Walter
Walter stared at me, as he had been doing for sixteen years straight. Water dripped from the twelve-year-old with a continuous plink, plink, plink. Ash gray skin stretched over bones and dark bags cradled piercing eyes. What used to be a honey brown but turned milky white stared intently at my back, never looking away even as dirt from my shovel flies through him. I try to ignore it as I shovel, but the weight of his gaze settled into the back of my mind. I shoveled faster.
Thunk.
Finally! I tossed the shovel to the side and pried my fingers under the lid of the coffin. The muscles of my arm burned as I pulled up, wood splintering around my fingers. With a grunt, the nails were ripped off and the lid opened. The acrid scent of rotten meat hit my nose; I swallowed the bile that shot up my throat. The skeleton still had a few strips of rotting tendons on it. Just the sight would’ve made me gag if I weren’t used to it by now. Besides, I wasn’t here for the body anyways. I pushed it to the side with the tip of my shovel to look under. Nothing.
“Fuck.”
I placed the lid back on the coffin and shoveled the dirt back onto the grave. Another waste of time. Patting it down neatly, I turned to go to the next spot. Walter stood in the way, his gaze more scathing than it was before. He was getting impatient.
“Look, I’m trying. Do you know how hard it is to find the grave of a woman you’ve never met only based on what’s inside the coffin? Maybe if you gave me a name, or a description, or anything I’d be able to find her.”
Walter remained silent, as always. Well, not always. He spoke for the first and only time last week. Just two words: Mom and locket. I sighed, grabbed the bag on the ground next to me, and continued walking. He followed me, always a step behind, though I never heard footsteps. Just the dripping. Always the dripping. And the stare.
Some days it was easy to ignore. It was just the background to my everyday life, and no one else seemed to notice it so I might as well pretend I didn’t either. It was easy when I was in public. When I’m lecturing to my class about A Wrinkle in Time, he blends in with the other twelve- to fourteen-year-old students…if I don’t look too closely at him. He always liked when we got to that part of the curriculum, though you wouldn’t tell from his face. Fantasy was his favorite genre, and he showed up for this lecture consistently every year. He’ll be disappointed that I cut it from the curriculum this year in exchange for The Outsiders.
Some days it was even comforting. When I got back to my empty apartment and the silence weighed me down on me; when I came back from another failed date because they leaned too close to me and I panicked over the thought of them kissing me; when I gotggotet the call that my mom and dad, the last of my family, died in a car crash and I was relieved they were gone, and guilty I even thought that, and hit with the sudden realization that I was utterly alone in this world, Walter was there with his gaze and rhythmic drips, reminding me that I never will be.
But some days it was too much. The world was too loud and the water was louder, and the gaze turned judgmental and cruel. The past weighed down on me and I couldn’t escape because Walter was always there. Always watching me.
Today was one of those days, and I had been in the damp heat all night digging up bones, all for some thing that followed me around and never said anything except for the one time he said two words, and–
“Would you leave me alone for a fucking minute!?”
In a blink, Walter disappeared, but I knew he was still there. His eyes always watched me.
A breeze blew through the trees, rattling loud, but not loud enough to cover the plink, plink, plink. The sky was clear so nothing blocked my view of the full moon. The cemetery was diffused in silvery moonlight, making the graves glow. The air was heavy with the post-rain dew. My lungs ached from breathing through the humidity.
Stupid Georgia summers. Stupid graveyard. Stupid unhelpful ghosts. How did he expect me to find a random locket in a random grave? I’d been at it for three days already, and it was not cheap to bribe the groundskeeper to look away so many times. Surprisingly, middle school teachers don’t get paid much, so I had to dip into my savings. At least it was summer break so it was easy for me to start searching the second he said those two words.
Plink, plink, plink.
The sound continued to follow me. It was loud enough to almost drown out the gurgling I heard in the back of my mind. The plea of a young voice crying for help. The cruel shouts of my dad.
I approached the next target. Margaret Sawyer, May 12th, 1976-June 15th, 2023. She died a few weeks ago. At least this grave will be easier to dig up. I placed the bag on the ground next to me, gripped the shovel, and speared it into the dirt. The dripping grew louder, and I didn’t have to look up to know Walter made his reappearance.
I got lost in the rhythm of shoveling, unconsciously moving to the beat of the dripping. I tried to focus on digging, but the gurgling in my mind got louder and the shouts harsher. My voice, about a decade younger, whimpered as I watched Dad hold down the kid’s head in the lake. It was just a kiss. I was just curious. It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t even know him. I’m sorry! Please stop, Dad! I wanted to say it, but the words died in my mouth. I couldn’t even run. All I could do was watch and let the guilt corrode me. The splashing got more and more frantic. “No son of mine is gonna be a faggot!” The thrashing slowed and then stopped. Then a deafening silence.
Thunk.
I put my weight on the shovel as I leaned over and retched. I could still remember the look on Dad’s face when he realized what he did. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. His face paled and his eyes looked anywhere but at the boy whose head was still underwater. “I saw what you were doing and–and I got so angry. I couldn’t control myself. You know how I get.” He rubbed his hand through his hair and took some exaggerated breaths. I flinched as he suddenly gripped my shoulders. His eyes were wild. “Listen to me, boy. No one can find out about this. No one. Do you understand me?”
I nodded. Together, we picked up the body and threw it into the lake as far in as we could. We snuck into the cabin so Mom didn’t see and changed our clothes. Dad quickly threw them in the wash while I took a shower, hoping the soap would wash away the musty lake smell. It didn’t. That night, I sleeplessly lay in bed, hearing the pleads and the thrashing and the shouting, imagining the mom or dad or siblings or friends who were missing him, wondering how long it would take to find the body, imagining a funeral I would never go to, wishing I never met him. I fell asleep to the ghost of a kiss.
And when I woke up, there Walter was, staring at me as he would for sixteen years.
My stomach emptied itself again and I wiped the taste away. Get a hold of yourself! Straightening up, I scooped the last of the dirt off the coffin and pried it open. I’d like to say that after days of smelling decomposing flesh, the smell didn’t get to me, but I was once again swallowing bile. The body was mostly intact. It was bloated and its skin turned red. On its right cheek, I could see something squirming underneath it and I had to look away. A glint of silver caught my eye. Tangled in the fingers was a chain. Could it be?
Quickly, almost as if it would disappear any second, I snatched the chain and held it close. Attached to the chain was a locket. With shaking hands, I gently pried it open. There were two pictures on each side. On one was a man with curly dark hair and familiar honey-brown eyes. On the other was the ghost that haunted me. I closed and flipped it around. Inscribed into the metal was a message: “Happy birthday, Maggie! Love, both your boys.” Finally…Finally! I found it! Sawyer was his name. Walter Sawyer.
“Mom,” a voice gurgled from behind me.
Turning around, I jumped back as Walter’s decomposed face appeared inches from me. He wasn’t looking at me; his milky gaze focused on the locket in my hand. I held it up, waiting for him to take it. He stood frozen for a few moments, just staring at the locket. I didn’t mind the waiting, because, for the first time, his eyes weren’t on me. In fact, I felt pity. He looked lost, like he didn’t know what to do. I understood that. If I were a ghost who made it his mission to haunt someone for sixteen years just to have them find a special locket, how would I feel once it was accomplished? Now that after all this time I could go to the afterlife?
Then I noticed he wasn’t looking at the locket at all. He took a step forward, then another, getting closer to me. I backed up. What was he going to do to me? I did what he’d wanted. Why wasn’t he leaving?
My foot hit the air and I whirled my arms to stop myself from falling into the grave. Walter still moved forward. “What are you doing? Stop!”
He stepped into me. For a second my body froze. My blood stopped pumping. My heart stopped beating. My lungs stopped breathing. A deathly chill slithered down my spine. I choked on the scent of rotting flesh and lake water. Then, in the next second, I could move again.
I put my hands on my knees and gasped for air. What the hell was that? Did he just walk through me!? I looked over my shoulder for him, but he was gone. No, not gone. He lay in the coffin, holding the decomposing corpse. He placed his head on the sternum and gently moved one of the body’s arms around his own waist. He closed his eyes and…smiled. I’d never seen him smile, not since that summer day.
My parents took me to my uncle’s cabin in Georgia one summer when I was twelve to spend some quality time together, but the fighting followed us. I don’t know what my parents were arguing about this time, but I didn’t want to stay for the aftermath. I wanted to escape Mom’s cries and Dad’s rage. I didn’t want to risk him using me to let off steam, so I grabbed a book and explored the forest in search of a good reading spot. I found a lake with a big tree near the waterfront. I sat in the shade and entered the world of Harry Potter. Or was it Percy Jackson? Either way, I was sucked in until Walter ran through the treeline covered in dirt and leaves. A compass was in one hand and a notebook in the other. He turned to me in surprise and asked what I was doing in his spot.
I apologized, telling him I didn’t know it was anyone’s spot. I was just here for the summer, so would he mind sharing for a few months? He didn’t answer the question, just sat down beside me and grabbed my book. He said it was his favorite series and we got talking. We chatted for hours, not stopping until the sun started setting.
“Oh, shit,” I said, scrambling onto my feet. “I have to go. Dad will kill me if I’m not back soon.”
Walter stood with me and held my book out. “Can you come by tomorrow?”
I paused. “I don’t know…”
I never knew what my parents’ mood would be. They could demand the family time they came for, and I would suffer hours of fake smiles and forced pleasantries. Or they could hate each other’s guts and Mom would go paint while Dad left the cabin to do who knew what and come back drunk, leaving me to entertain myself.
“Well, I’ll be here anyways. It is my spot after all…but I don’t mind you borrowing it.” He pushed the book into my hands and I fumbled not to drop it. My face heated up as Walter laughed at my clumsiness. “See ya.”
We went our separate ways, but we met up the next day, then the day after that, and after that. Anytime I could, I snuck out to see him, and we talked about everything and anything. But never family, we both avoided that. When he wasn’t there, I read my book in the peaceful atmosphere of the lake. When my parents demanded my presence, when Mom pissed Dad off and he took it out on me, when I had a black eye or a bruise somewhere I couldn’t hide from Walter, I lay in bed with my eyes closed, imagining I was with him at the lake. I thought the summer wouldn’t be so bad.
But Dad got suspicious about me disappearing so often. I should have told him about my friend, but I didn’t want to mix my two worlds. What if Dad came home angry and Walter was there? No, I had to keep him away. I was doing a good job too, and I thought I would get away with it as the summer was ending.
It was my last week and we both knew it. We met up earlier and left as late as we dared. We sat side by side under the tree, so close our legs were touching. I don’t remember all we talked about that day, but somehow we got to talking about how Walter heard about someone’s uncle who had a husband. I didn’t know two guys could marry each other, and Walter said only in some places.
“I could never live somewhere like that,” I said.
“Why not?”
“My dad hates people like that. He said it was disgusting how men like that could go against God.”
Walter scoffed. “How could they be against God if He made them that way?”
“But he didn’t make them that way.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s in the Bible.”
“Where does it say that?”
I paused. “Um…Well…I’m not sure. But my dad said so.”
“Maybe your dad doesn’t know dick.”
“Walter!” Walter laughed as I pushed him. I couldn’t hold back a chuckle myself. “What does your dad think?”
Walter’s laugh immediately cut out. “I don’t know.” He had a faraway look in his eyes as he said that. He never did talk about his dad…maybe his was like mine. Before I could change the subject he continued. “Mama doesn’t understand people like that, they creep her out, but she doesn’t hate them. What about your ma?”
“I don’t know,” I said looking at my fiddling fingers in my lap. “We don’t talk about serious stuff.”
“Oh.”
We fell into silence. Walter leaned back against the tree and stared out into the lake. I wondered what he was thinking about now. His parents? Those married men? Or did he already move on from the subject? That was very like him, hopping from topic to topic with no rhyme or reason. He said his mind was like a hummingbird. It would hover around one thought then zoom to another quick as a flash. Who knew what could come out of his mouth next?
“I wonder what it would be like to kiss a boy.”
As always, he kept me on my toes. “W-What?” I sputtered.
“Do you think it’s different than kissing a girl?”
“You’ve kissed a girl?”
“Duh. Have you?”
“No.” I scratched the back of my neck, my face heating up.
Walter waved a hand. “You’re not missing much. It’s actually a little gross. A lot of spit is involved. Ugh.” He sat up straighter and leaned in. “But maybe it’s different with a boy.”
I leaned back. “Or maybe it’s grosser?”
“There’s only one way to find out. You wanna try?”
“What—You—We can’t—”
“Oh come on! It’ll be quick.”
“But my dad—”
“Who cares what your dad thinks? He’ll never have to know about this.”
The thought of Dad finding out sent ice through my veins, but…there was no one here. Mom and Dad don’t even know about this spot. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious what a kiss, with a boy or girl, felt like. So I gave a hesitant nod.
I felt nothing with the kiss. It was actually kind of weird, but I didn’t know if that was because I was kissing another boy or if all kisses were like that. Walter though, I could tell he felt something. When we leaned back he had the biggest smile. I bet he was going to tell me exactly how he felt, but I never got a chance to hear it. That was when my dad grabbed Walter and dragged him to the lake.
The smile he wore now wasn’t nearly as big or as bright, but it was peaceful. At that moment, he didn’t look like a ghost, he looked like a kid.
“I’m sorry, Walter,” I choked out as tears streaked my cheeks. Walter looked up at me; I didn’t mind his stare this time.
When I imagined a ghost moving to the afterlife, I imagined a bright, blinding light, then, bam, he’s gone. Or maybe Death or God would show up and lead him away. Or maybe he would float to the sky like an angel or something. In reality, he slowly started to fade, and then he was gone.
I placed the locket back into the coffin, shoveled the dirt back on, gathered my stuff, and left. The sun’s rays started to peek above the horizon. I couldn’t wait to sleep the day away after three days of research, digging, and very little sleep. With my mission done, the world felt different. The air felt a bit lighter, and the trees stopped rattling. It was quiet. My ears strained to hear the plink, plink, plink of water, but there was only silence. I searched for the everpresent eyes staring into me, but the only eyes were those of a bird perched in a tree. For the first time in sixteen years, I was alone.
I got back to the empty hotel room that was waiting for me and thought about the empty apartment I would be coming home to in a few days, and the empty life now that all my family was gone. Searing tears streaked down my face and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, I rifled through my suitcase for my pajamas until I bumped into a book. I pulled it out. My hand flew to my mouth to stifle the sobs punching out of my chest. A Wrinkle in Time. Forgetting about sleep, I sat on the bed, not caring for the mud and dirt smearing on the sheets, and opened to the first page. “It was a dark and stormy night.” Maybe I’ll switch out Holes for The Outsiders instead. Walter would like that.
Halle Harper is a senior at University of Nevada, LV, pursuing a degree in Theatre Design/Technology and a minor in Creative Writing. Her poetry will be appearing in the upcoming 2023-2024 edition of Violet Margin, and she has had performances and staged readings of her plays. When not writing, she likes to design shows and rides for theme parks for fun, though hopefully one day she can get paid for it.
The Albion Review 