There was no answer, but Ben had nowhere to go and nothing to do, so he walked into his attached bathroom and looked around. There was nothing new there, not that he’d really thought the ghost had anything to do with his shower or his toilet.
“I don’t have a name for you, so why don’t I just call you John Doe? I bet that’s what the cops are calling you.” If a lamp could blink in a sarcastic way, Ben thought he’d just seen it happen. “Not fond of that, Johnny?” The bathroom light went off and didn’t come back on again. “Fine, fine….”
Ben went into the little corridor and stepped into the tiny guestroom that was more like an extra storage unit, now that his roommate had moved out. The kitchen gave no results, so finally Ben went into the living room.
The light flickered once. “Bingo.” Ben peered around the cozy space. It was small but enough for his needs, and he’d used plenty of time trying to make the house feel like a home. It didn’t, not exactly, but he thought of it as a work in progress anyway.
“Say, Casper,” he started absently, only to have the lights go out. It was like a power cut, and for a moment, Ben was startled before he realized what he’d said. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” The lights went back on. “Wereallyneed to come up with a name, though….” He glanced at the bookshelf, wondering if he’d bought any new books in the right timeframe, but didn’t think so.
“I can’t remember what I was going to ask, but how about you do your thing with the lights if I get closer. Like, you know, flicker faster if I get warmer—that sort of thing.” With that, Ben began to walk ever so slowly around the room.
He had just stepped toward the windows when the light flashed for the first time. Ben looked at what was in front of him, except for the said windows that overlooked the front yard. There was just an old armchair in the corner, next to a lamp with a wobbly shade.
Curious, Ben took the two steps closer, and the lights flickered again. “But there’s nothing he—” and then he spotted it, behind the chair, leaning against the wall where he’d left it oh, just about six weeks ago.
“Of course!” Ben reached to pull the painting out of where he’d thought it would be safe. He hadn’t counted on forgetting all about it. “Shit, okay… let’s see….”
He’d bought the painting on a whim from a yard sale he’d spotted while driving through Georgetown after visiting his mother at the nursing home in Lexington. It was a lovely realistic landscape with vivid colors and a few surrealistic details dotting it like a puzzle. He hadn’t counted onthis kindof a puzzle, though.
“Why this painting?” he asked, but there was no answer. Ben sat in the armchair and unwrapped the painting with care from the couple of ratty, towels the lady selling it had put around it for protection.
It wasn’t a large piece. He could easily pick it up, and he placed the bottom of it on his knees and leaned back, holding it by the frame on both sides. Something about it screamed Kentucky, but that was to be expected. There were green meadows and trees, with white fences and horses, and pretty flowers here and there. The artist had signed it.
“Adrian DuBois?” The light stayed on and still, so Ben looked more closely.
“Okay… flowers, trees, horses, fence posts…. One horse with six legs, a cloud that resembles”—he tilted his head— “a dragon?” The light flashed once. “Okay, dragon it is.” He didn’t see anything else of interest other than a flower that seemed to have teeth and was about to devour a butterfly, until…. “Hey, there’s a guy standing where one of the fence posts is supposed to be!” The lights went nuts.
“That’s you?” Ben asked and huffed out a relieved laugh. “So this guy DuBois knows who you are?” He stared at the painting, and the more time he spent, the more details he could see in the fencepost-man. “Okay, it’s safe to stop now, Sal, I’m beginning to feel like I’m in a disco.”
The lights went still but stayed on. Then one flicker that seemed somehow questioning. “Oh, why Sal?” Ben asked, and got another blink-response. “Someone Adrian Loved,” he explained. The lights went off, then came back on again.
“He loved you,” Ben stated, suddenly knowing why Sal was bothering him. “Adrian doesn’t know you’re dead.”
The lights went off and threw him into a darkness that felt a lot like sadness.
***
The next morning, after restful night—because Sal had most likely used all his energy and there was no butt-staring going on—Ben went to work as usual. His job was a regular landscaping gig in his brother-in-law’s company, and it was mindless enough to let Ben think while he planted things or shoveled some shit, sometimes literally.
He had dug up a couple of rosebushes to make way for concrete, when he realized he needed to figure out how to explain the situation to the Adrian guy.
Hi, I’m Ben and I think I your ex is dead.Yeah, maybe not that particular line.Hi, I’m Ben. Do you happen to know the whereabouts of every guy you’ve ever loved?Not better.
Ben sighed and immediately heard a familiar chuckle from behind his back. Rolling He rolled his eyes, then glanced at his brother-in-law Ross. Somehow, he knew he shouldn’t ask, but did anyway.
“What?”
His boss grinned at him. “You can take those poor roses home. I already asked. They’re going to the dump if you don’t.”
“It wasone time, Ross. One time. I have taken doomed plants homeonce, because they were a rare species of lily and you know your mother-in-law, my mother, loves lilies.” Ben always took her some lilies when he visited her at the nursing home.
“Right, right.” Ross’s grin widened. “If you weren’t such a huge guy, I’d totally call you a momma’s boy.”
“If you did, and I didn’t think being married to Belle wasn’t enough of a punishment, I’d kick your ass.”
Laughing, Ross walked back to their truck to continue his job, and Ben considered the rose bushes. “Then again, who knows how pretty you would be. Might as well take you home. Maybe Sal would like you.”
***
