Part 3: Hiding from ghosts

On days when Molly sat alone in the house, it felt unbearably empty. Sometimes she swore she heard whispers of distant memories down the hallway and they made her shiver just as much as the day her mom died. They haunted her whenever things got too quiet, so she didn’t give them a chance. As soon as her dad left for work, she was out the door right beside him.

Classes at community college kept her occupied, but added a twinge of guilt. When Lizzie left high school, she’d been passionate about biology. Now she was in grad school going after a degree in genetics and the cure for cancer.

For Molly, school was a way to divert her attention away from her grief. Plus her mother would have wanted her to get a degree. Her father, sister, and grandparents reminded her of that every time she talked to them. But was that enough to justify the cost? She had no idea what she’d be doing with that degree, let alone what she’d be getting her degree in. Maybe her time would have been better spent getting a few extra years of work experience. She probably would have been more productive that way.

Today she typed a few words of her English midterm in between intense staring sessions out the window. To an outsider it might appear she was watching the Santa Ana winds wreak havoc through the street outside. But in reality her mind kept skipping between the present and the past.

At that moment in particular, she could almost see her mom walk past the window holding the hands of her two small girls as they oohed and aahed at the display in the toy store across the street. Grandma and grandpa followed close behind, visiting for the afternoon. Little Molly and Lizzie pointed and tried to cross the street, and mom gave a lecture about not stepping out into oncoming traffic. Behind them, grandma and grandpa conspired to stop by the toy store later and buy two of the ballerina dolls in the window display.

A chill ran up Molly’s spine and she blinked. Now she could see clearly that the family in front of her wasn’t her family at all, but strangers on their way to their car. For Sale signs materialized in the windows across the street and Molly shook her head. The ghosts were following her.

She took a sip of coffee and turned back to her paper, but the hot liquid didn’t do anything to warm her. In fact, she shivered even more than before.

Clenching her coffee mug, she wondered what it meant. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself, drinking more of her coffee to chase away the cold. She shivered more, in spite of herself.

There must be a draft coming from the door. Or I’m getting sick.

Whatever it was, she shut her laptop and packed up her things. Clearly she wouldn’t be getting any more words written for her midterm today. Besides, it would be dinner soon.

She kept her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her as she walked to her car, shielding herself from anything else unexpected that might pop up as much as from the wind.

When she got home the cold spell had gotten worse. It dug right between her ribs, making it difficult to breathe. But just like at the hospital, it seemed to be centralizing toward that one spot. What could make it gather like that? Chills should be moving outward, filling her whole body, if she was truly cold. Not moving inward.

“Dad?” she called.

Her voice echoed down the entryway, followed by silence. Usually he’d be home by now. She shuddered once more, this time in anticipation of what she might hear in the quiet.    But then the icicle digging into her chest disappeared, just as suddenly as the chills had started.

It must have something to do with the wind, she told herself, only half believing it. Just in case, she pulled a can of tomato soup from the cupboard and started heating it up. She’d stay warm tonight to make sure her chills didn’t come back.

But before she had a chance to drink the first spoonful, the phone rang and she froze.

“Hello?”

“Oh good.” Her dad’s voice sounded strained. “I tried calling earlier.”

“I was getting some homework done.”

Molly listened to her dad take a few deep breaths and held her own breath until he finally spoke. “I got a call from the hospital earlier. Your grandfather, he had a heart attack earlier today.”

“Is he okay?”

“He… he died a few minutes ago.”

The shaking started again, although this time she felt hot. She had so many questions, she didn’t know where to start. And even if she did, where would she get answers? This wasn’t something she could bring up casually with her dad or her sister without making them worry. Hell, she was worried.

But for the first time since her mom died, she felt like she had a purpose again. She needed to know what was going on, and that meant getting more familiar with the cause. And from what she could tell, that was the hospital. Or maybe death. Or traumatic incidents in her family.

She couldn’t replicate that last one very easily, but the other two were certainly possible.

All she needed was a job in medicine.

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