To Be A Ghost

I woke as if a fade-in to daylight. I can’t pinpoint it exactly but our bedroom looked different somehow. I went downstairs and saw my sisters sitting in the living room and dining room. They were looking off in the distance or looking down at photo albums, not talking to each other. It seemed normal to me and I didn’t acknowledge them.

I wondered where my wife Victoria was. I wanted to talk to her, but she wasn’t downstairs. I went back up to the office and she wasn’t there. I heard a noise in the bedroom and I went in. Victoria was there, sitting on the bed. She looked pensively at my cell phone as she placed it in a small container. She didn’t look up at me. I wondered if she was upset with me for something as she walked out of the room. I followed, but she was already gone. I went back downstairs where my sisters were, but Victoria wasn’t there. I figured I’d call her but I couldn’t find my phone. My sister Pam sat in our favorite, colorful reading chair and told me to look in the dining room, or the bedroom. I did, but it wasn’t there. I couldn’t find my phone anywhere. I urgently wanted to contact Victoria.

My laptop was open, but it looked like someone else was controlling it. I couldn’t make the cursor go where I wanted. I was frustrated and wondered if it was my son remotely accessing my computer. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t will the computer to go to one of my email accounts to send Victoria a message.

Downstairs was dark and depressing. My sisters just sat staring into space. I went upstairs to see if Victoria was anywhere up there. As I moved down the hall to our bedroom, I noticed movement outside on the street. I stood fully in the frame of the window and looked down. There was Victoria with a man, shorter than me, but also more slender. He had dark, wavy salt and pepper hair and smiled a lot. He was putting bags into the trunk of a dark-colored, expensive looking sedan.

It had rained, the street was wet. Victoria was wearing the same green dress she wore to the wedding of some friends of ours this past summer. She stood quietly, her hands folded together in front of her, watching the man put the bags in the sedan.

What was she doing? Who was that guy? Why was she dressed like that? Why was she with him and where was she going with him? All at once I felt confused, angry, and jealous. Desperation overtook me. I banged on the window and called out, “Victoria, where are you going? Why are you leaving me?”

Victoria looked over her shoulder; a quizzical expression crossed her face. She turned and faced the house and looked up right at the window in which I stood. Her face was calm, her eyes large and dark. Even from where I was I could see her eyes brimming with tears. I desperately wanted to race downstairs, throw open the front door, run to her and hold her in my arms. Inherently I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go outside, and I couldn’t hold her. I didn’t know why and I didn’t question it.

Our eyes were locked on one another for several moments. Victoria looked away, my heart sank and then broke as she opened the passenger door of the sedan and got in. The man closed the trunk, got behind the wheel and he drove away with my Victoria, my wife, my best friend.

I went downstairs in a daze. All the rooms echoed with an unnerving stillness and quiet. In the pale gray light, I could see all the rooms were now devoid of people, furnishings – and life.

I never felt so alone...