I knew she was there before I actually saw her. The atmosphere changed. Just slightly. At first I mistook her for one of the mourners but then I realised that it was just me who saw her. My heart starting beating at a rapid speed and I wondered if anyone around me could hear my heart beat.
Too many emotions were flurrying in my chest that it was hard to pick out the one I was actually feeling. Ghosts always have crappy timing, showing up at my dad's funeral. Not that they cared; they were too self-centred to even think.
I always saw them when I was young. They used to be a silent part of my life that no one ever bothered to check up on. It was actually my dad who taught me how to get rid of them. Just ignore them, he used to say. Show them that you don't care about them. They just want attention. Now oddly enough, the man who taught me to protect myself from the dead had gone to join them.
The ghosts retrieved to their hideout for a while. I always knew that they would come back to haunt me. I guess they waited until there was no one left to threaten their fun but my little brother, who unfortunately had no idea of my 'gift'.
I sat to the left of my brother, Austin, with my aunt Cadence on his right. As I watched my dad's shiny mahogany casket being lowered into the ground, I felt like crying. Only, there weren't any tears left to shed. As dad's coffin settled on the damp ground, I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in. Aunt Cadence was gripping my hand and giving me sympathetic looks while trying to hide her own sadness. After all, he was her only remaining family member. Now she was on her own. Just like me and Austin.
I noticed that my brother's fists were clenched and that he looked ready to go jump into the grave along with dad, if it wasn't for aunt Cadence gripping his shoulders. As everyone was leaving after the service, aunt Cadence finally cracked and started crying hysterically. I don't blame her. My dad was probably the friendliest man in the neighbourhood. This was the first time I've ever seen her show true emotion in public. Not that she's uncaring. She was just like me. Even though I rarely express emotion in public, I really do care about people. Most people.
I stole a glance at the ghost and was relieved when I saw that she had disappeared. Just as we were about to leave, I excused myself and went to see who owned the grave that the ghost was 'oh so interested' in. The tombstone looked like it was set there 100 years ago, with all the vines and dirt surrounding it. In scripted on the stone was-
Beckett James Oliver
9th February 1844 – 15th October 1863
"Re-examine all you have been told, dismiss what insults your soul"
Below it, someone had placed a black and white photograph of a young man, with extremely fluffy, dark brown hair, brown puppy dog eyes, wearing a black trench coat over a flannel shirt.
So, ghostie wanted me to find the grave of a guy who died over a hundred and fifty years ago, who also had a weird fascination with Walt Whitman. Interesting.
"Come on Jade, we have to go" Aunt Cadence called out quietly
In the car, Austin was giving Jade weird looks despite the obvious tension. His face clearly stated that he was worried but with the auburn curls, which made him look like a 12 year old instead of a 14, it was hard to say.
"So Jade, the school called, they said you and Austin can take a few weeks off of school but they need you back by the start of next term, also, your mother will be flying down from New York tonight so she'll be here tomorrow morning"
Jade cringed when aunt Cadence mentioned her mother. The thought of having to share a house with Cheryl West was like having to live with the ghosts themselves. When Cheryl was in the house, there was no privacy whatsoever. No wonder Jade's parents got a divorce. Her dad kept on telling her that she was just like her mum. As stubborn as a mule but brave as a mountain lion. Also as loud as a blue whale.