The Ghost Who Tried to Love Me (3 page)

I didn't check the time when I woke up, I
ripped out of my confused covers and tore through the house. I
grabbed my keys and wallet and hit the door at a run. I tried to
call Brenda to find out how to go back to the temple, but she
didn't pick up. As I made it out the door I looked around. It was
still dark, but a hint of light was peeking over the horizon. I had
no idea how to get back to the temple, but I knew where a local
temple was. You can't live here for as many years as I have without
having some idea of the way people pray at the local temples, so I
decided I would hit the 7-11 and buy some food and see if the local
god could help me out until I could go back to the ghost master
with Brenda.

What does a local god like for offerings? I
had no clue. I picked up a two-liter bottle of coke, a couple of
packs of Oreos, and a steamed bun and rode as fast as I could to
the temple. There was only one old woman there, lighting her
incense and saying her prayers to the idol, no master around to
show me what to do. I asked the woman if she could help me, but she
didn't speak English. Feeling frantic, I lined the food up on the
table before the god and started to genuflect. I guess the lady
realized what I wanted to do because she lit a stick of incense for
me and then stood next to me and showed me how to go through the
motions. I wasn't sure what to say, so asked the little idol if he
could ask the ghost to find another house to haunt. I wasn't
interested in the romance she had to offer me. I felt pretty stupid
talking to a wooden idol, but I said I appreciated any help he
could give me and then stuck my piece of incense in the big bowl of
ash with the other smoldering sticks.

I turned and thanked the old woman, and she
gathered my food up in her arms and gave it back to me then shooed
me away. Exhausted, I went home and sat on the couch, sure that if
I fell asleep the dream and the ghost would come back. After most
of the coke and half a pack of Oreos I fell into an exhausted
sleep.

She never came back. I have to suppose that
the local god decided to help me, maybe he had a netherworld
conference call with her and asked her to come onto someone else, I
don't know. Brenda asked the people in my building for any
information on anyone who had lived there before me, whether there
had been suicides or murders in that apartment, but no one knew
anything. The dreams have never returned, and the fan over the
stove never shorted out again while I lived there. I hope that I
never see her again.

But I know they're out there. Some nights I
can feel the places she touched, just like old joints stiffening up
before a storm comes. I know when ghost month comes because my lips
burn and I dream of her blank face, screaming back at me as she
fell back out of my world and into hers.

Adam Tervort was born in northern Utah and
grew up in the Kansas City, Missouri area. Since 2005 he has lived
and worked in Taiwan as a writer and English teacher. His wife,
Mei-yun, and three children, Emerson, Langston, and Adriana
consider him to be a bit wacky but mostly harmless and lovable. He
welcomes readers to contact him as long as they have less than
eight legs, if you happen to be a spider then keep to yourself.

He can be reached through
Adam
Tervort.com
, or by
Twitter
.