The landlady had warned me before I signed the rental contract,
“An eighty-six-year-old man died in the first bedroom,” she said, “I need to
disclose that before you move in, so you won’t quit suddenly without a thirty-day notice.”
I
have to admit it sounded a little strange, but at the time, I didn’t
pay enough attention and I disregarded the comment as useless and
unimportant. Later on, through the neighbors, I learned that the old man
that
died had lived here for fifteen years, after that, three new tenants
moved in
and out in rapid succession.
The house was old and unattractive, with a garage attached
to the kitchen and living room. The family room was next to the dining room
with a narrow hallway and three bedrooms. The floor plan was terrible. It had dark brown
paint, dark brown carpet, dark brown vinyl floor in the kitchen and dining
room. Seriously, this was the ugliest house on the block. I just couldn’t find
anything attractive or pleasant about this house, but I’ve never been a person
with many demands or requirements. Therefore, I signed the contract.
Before we moved in, I was installing shelves on the walls in
the garage for my tools and other assorted useless stuff that I have been
carrying with me from house to house for the last twenty years. It was still
daylight, and I was by myself when I heard a noise in the house like something
heavy dropped to the floor.
I went inside to find out what it was. I checked every room
and when I got in the first bedroom, (the old man’s room) my body shivered and
I went back to the garage. I thought it was probably the wind slamming a door.
Now, I must say that I have never been afraid of anybody, except the landlord
or as in this case the landlady, but only if I didn’t have the money to pay the
rent.
I was drinking a few beers while doing the shelves, and then,
I saw a young kid running and hiding behind some trees across the street. A patrol car stopped, and a cop came to ask me
about the kid, and I told him, “Yeah, he went in that house.” Another patrol car
stopped, and more cops came. Remember when I mentioned about things I’m afraid
of? I forgot about the police.
I
was afraid the cops
could see the empty bottles of beer or smelled my breath, so I had to
wait
until they left before I could drive to my old house. It was getting
dark, and
I didn’t want to stay alone with my ‘new friend’ inside the house. I’m
not afraid of apparitions or spirits, but sometimes I fall into the trap
of my suggestive mind. If it’s dark and if I’m alone, I start thinking
that
something might scare me and then I get scared as it happened in this
specific
instance.
After a few weeks, the house was finally a home, I didn’t
care about how ugly it was.
One time I was alone in the house, watching TV in the living
room. The volume on the TV was low; it was early at night when suddenly I
heard the radio go on in one of the back rooms.
I thought it was the radio. A male voice, but only for two
or three seconds. The sound was clearly louder than the TV. I turned the lights
on and went to investigate. I checked in my bedroom, where we have two alarm
clocks, but they were off and I had another radio but it was unplugged. I thought it was
very strange but I returned to watch the television.
As the days passed by, we kept hearing noises, normal house
noises like wood shrinking and swelling, or wind slamming doors.
One
time I really got scared. I was reading in bed around
2:00 am when I heard the patio sliding door vibrating strongly for a few
seconds, the way it shakes during an earthquake, and then it was very
quiet. I
convinced myself that it was my dog Diego pushing the glass door.
Otherwise, I would have to get up to investigate and walk across the
hallway (and
the old man’s room) and I didn’t want to do that, not at 2:00 am.
When
my daughter and my ten-month-old grandson Damian came
to visit for a week, I had to put them in that bedroom because that room
had furniture. At first, she said it was warm and comfortable, no
complaints. They were happy, and I was happy. A few days of pure bliss,
my grandson was as handsome and smart as his grandpa, (on his mom’s
side) and he liked me a lot.
On her last night, my daughter came into
our room carrying her son, and standing at the foot of our bed, said, “Dad, somebody's
moving our bed, even Damian woke up. We’re staying
in your room now.” Then she asked me to
get the small portable mattress we had in the living room for Damian to play on.
I stood up very brave and secure of myself to get it for her, but when I went
past that room my knees were shaking.
Next
day, I knew I had to confront ‘my new friend’ like a man. He won't make
me run away like the other tenants, after all, he’s not
paying the rent. I moved my computer from the garage to "his room".
That way I had to spend a lot of time in that room. When my wife leaves
for work, I'll speak openly and clearly to him. I need to find out the
reason
he is still here.
I kept talking to him for a week, sometimes even in Spanish,
but he suddenly disappeared. Or maybe I scared him off, or maybe he never existed. Just when I was feeling
relaxed and comfortable, I saw him.
The bathroom door had a mirror on the inside, and
before you close it, you could see that mirror and the one above the
cabinet sink. So it's possible to see the front and back of yourself at the same time.
That’s when I saw him.
Of course, it took me by surprise; I jumped back, and in a blink of an eye he
wasn’t there anymore. I’m sure I saw him,
but I’m not sure if he was inside the mirror or behind me. He was wearing a
light blue suit and a tie. I think he wasn’t trying to scare me.
“So you’re here after all,” I said to him, “I hope you’re not
shy and start talking because this is very interesting. I have many
questions for you, what’s your name? Come on man, I know you know my name already, tell
me yours” and then I heard a hesitant voice.
“My
name’s Peter Shelby,” he answered in a soft, cavernous voice. Instead of
getting scared I got genuinely excited, I bet he noticed because I was
smiling, almost laughing. Then I asked him, “Tell me, are you with God? Have
you seen Him?”
“What
a joke man, I was eighty-six years old when I died. My parents raised
me a catholic and I have been a catholic all my life. I was baptized, I
had my first communion, I took part in all the sacraments and I even
gave a
small fortune in donations to the church and he’s nowhere to be seen.
Maybe he
is on vacation, but I haven’t seen him. I can’t believe it. I spent,
maybe I
should say; I wasted many hours of my life in church. I was afraid to
commit sins and to be punished, and it was all for nothing. There’s no
heaven
or hell just Purgatory or Limbo, but I still hope he shows
up.”
“And why are you still here? You might be right, you might
be in Purgatory, and God could be undecided on what to do with you. Maybe you’re
paying for some pending sins. Who knows?” I said.
“I hope you’re right because it’s boring here,
that’s why I was making noises and I was trying to manifest my in-conformity, I
was trying to rebel against my unfair situation.”
“But why did you have to scare my daughter, for that I can
kill you. Can I?”
“No, I don’t think you can. I scared your daughter because you
weren’t paying attention to me; you were ignoring me, and that was very
frustrating. Being alone, bored and ignored, I just couldn’t take it anymore,
tell her I’m sorry.”
“No, you go tell her yourself. No, wait, just leave her alone, never mind.
But answer me this, what’s your purpose in life? I mean, in death?”
“I have no idea, I think I need to do something but I don’t
know what. My wife died three years before me. We were very happy in this ugly
house. We spent our best years here.”
“And where do you think your wife is?”
“She must be in heaven; I guess. She was a much better
person than I was. I wish I could communicate with her, be with her, and then
maybe, I can ‘die’ in peace.”
“Okay, next question, do you eat, sleep, take showers, brush
your teeth or go to the bathroom?”
“No, no, no, no, and no.”
“Can you cross walls or doors? Can you touch me or hit me?
Do you touch the floor when you walk?”
“Yes, I can cross anything.
No, I cannot hit you, although I tried a few times, ha, ha. I just float
a couple of inches above the surface; I don’t need to sit or rest because I
don’t need any energy. I’m dead.”
“I just need to tell you something; you can’t appear or
manifest yourself in any way while my wife is here. Otherwise, she’ll bring the
priest with his holy water and won’t rest until she makes you disappear for
good.”
“But she seems to be such a nice lady, well sometimes.”
“Well, just consider yourself, warned. Oh, one more thing,
how should I call you, Peter, Mr. Shelby, Poltergeist, Mr. Ghost, or what?”
“I don’t care; it’s not like I’m going to get mad and hit
you, let’s just be friends and make the best of it, okay?”
“Okay, Peter. Oh, one last thing, is there anything I can do
for you? You know; to help you do something, find something. This is so weird
man, talking to a ghost, no one would believe me.”
“If you start telling everybody that you can talk to a
ghost, they’ll put you in a mental hospital. Oh,
and yes, you can do something for me, I'd like to go to the cemetery and
see what kind grave my family bought for me.”
“Okay, it’s a done deal; we’ll go tomorrow morning, what time
you want me to wake you up?”
“No need for that, I’ll be ready anytime.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow Peter.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Then I opened the passenger
door of my small pickup truck and after a few seconds I asked, “Are you
in Peter?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you.”
“Okay, now, shut the door,” I said
“How?” he replied.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Then, I went around and closed the
passenger door.
“Okay, Peter, put your seat belt on.”
“Oh, you’re funny!”
“Peter you want to drive?”
Then ignoring my last question, he said, “Man, you
need to replace this old piece of junk.”
“Peter, you want to walk, you want me to call you a taxicab
or you want a limousine or . . . ?”
“Sorry, sorry, can we just go, already?”
As I started to drive I asked him, “Hey Peter, do you go out of the
house, to walk or float around town?”
“I tried a couple of times, but I think the dogs can see me. They bark at me, and I can’t stand it, it’s very
annoying, they want to bite me and I want to kick them. Your little dog, what’s
her name? Yes, Frida, when I go to the back yard, she can’t leave me
alone, she follows me around and barks and barks, it’s so fastidious. I just
don’t go to the patio anymore, but Diego, the other dog, he doesn’t know I exist.
And he’s right.”
When we arrived at the graveyard, we needed to look for his
grave because he didn’t remember where they put his body, or as he says ‘his
deceased body’. When we found it, he immediately says, “Those cheap bastards,
look at my wife’s grave. I bought her a top of the line, expensive
tomb. Now look at mine, looks like Saltillo tile, even the headstone looks
second hand, so small and ordinary. But at least someone brought me flowers, and
they look fresh. There’s a note in them, can you please read it for me?”
“Yes, of course, Peter. It says, “I miss you, Uncle Peter. I
will always love and remember you.” signed by Nancy Shelby.
“Oh, my dear Nancy, my favorite niece, too bad I can’t cry.”
Back at the house, he asked me if I could write a letter for him,
I agreed, and he begins dictating.
“My dearest Anais Neess:
I miss you more than you can imagine, please don’t disregard
this note thinking it's just a joke, and please don’t be afraid; this seems unreal to me too.
I’m still at the house. I don’t know why, but I’m taking advantage of it to let
you know that I left some money for you. You’re the only beneficiary. I found
my last friend in the person who is writing this note. He will give you more
details on how to get this money. I didn’t put this in my will because I
didn’t want the rest of the family to know about it.
I will keep you in my heart forever. I love you, Nancy.”
Peter Shelby.
After I had searched for a few minutes on my computer, I found a government site for unclaimed money. A savings account under the name of Peter Shelby, $45,000,00 I wrote down some account numbers and other details and put a separate note along with the letter. And sent it to an address Peter gave me.
He said that Nancy was a nice girl and that she
might give me a commission for helping her get this money. I said I didn’t care.
Then I asked him if he could show himself again like he did in the bathroom mirror
and he said, “I have no idea how that happened, but one time when I was
watching the TV with your wife I saw my reflection on the TV screen.”
“You watch TV with my wife?”
“Yes, all the time. I sit right next to her all morning, but
when she changes the channel to her Spanish soap operas, I just disappear from
there. But I like it when she listens to her music while cooking. We like the
same kind of music except for her mariachi songs.”
“And how can you move things around, or make noises? I mean
if you say you can’t touch anything.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I guess when I get too desperate or
frustrated, I might have telekinetic powers, but I don’t know.”
I wanted to try
another experiment with Peter. I asked him to come out with me to the back
yard. “Okay Peter, what I’d like to do, with your permission, of course, is try
to paint your body, soul or ghost or whatever. You just stand right here in the
middle of the patio; I’ll bring my spray paint gun and some white paint and see
what happens, okay?”
“Okay, that sounds like fun.” he answered.
After I brought all the stuff I needed, I asked him if he wanted a
mask and he said, “What for?” and then I said, okay, close your eyes, and then
he said, “What for?”
“Okay, okay, just stand still,” I said, and I start
painting him. Then my little dog Frida comes around him and starts
barking, and it seems like she’s barking at a ghost, running all around
him. We start laughing out loud, and that’s when my neighbor’s head appears
above the fence and asks me, “Hey, what are you painting your dog for? Are you
crazy or what?” Then I noticed Frida’s all white. I don’t know where Peter is,
and I can’t stop laughing.
Before my wife came home from work I asked Peter if he wanted
to do something next day. “Yes, if you don’t mind I’d like to go to
church and have a talk with God. Because I don’t think he’s in this house.”
The following morning I realized that it was the
first time I came to church this year and November’s almost over. I guess
I’ve been very busy doing nothing, but the truth is that I don’t need intermediaries or priests or
churches to talk to God.
When Peter finished with God, he whispers in my ear “Let’s
go, I’m ready.”
On our way home he said, “I have a feeling that pretty
soon we won’t be able to be together or communicate anymore. I want to
tell you that I appreciate your friendship and your companionship very much.
I hope someday I can see you in ‘my house’.”
When we returned to my house, we found a woman knocking on the
front door.
“Hi, I live in this
house, what can I do for you?” I asked her. She seemed to be in her thirties; she
had a quiet and tender beauty, and she appeared to be a little shy.
“Hi, my name is Nancy Shelby, I believe I received a letter
from you. At first, I thought it was a tasteless joke, so absurd and incredible,
but when I checked the account, I knew then that it was true. I wanted to tell
you how fortunate you are to be able to communicate with my uncle Peter he was
such a good person. At his funeral, my mother told me that my uncle Peter paid
for all my college tuition, I knew my mom didn’t have the means to afford it.”
“But who’s Anais Neess?” I asked her.
She answered with a smile, “It’s a game of words, Anais
Neess, or ‘a nice niece’ I always loved it when he called me that.”
After that day Peter disappeared from the house. I went
crazy talking to him in every room, to no avail. No signs or signals from him.
I missed him a lot. Then one day I received a letter from Nancy, a note with a
few words, a check for $5,000.00 under my name and the most important thing, a picture of Peter.
Now I keep that photograph on my desk, next to my computer. In his room.
Edmundo Barraza
Visalia, Ca. 11-29-2010
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