Ghosts that Watch Us

11

Time flew by between Thanksgiving and Christmas, yet another reason why Ellory didn’t understand the necessity for a Thanksgiving break in the first place. They were hardly weeks apart, since they let out a week before Christmas day, but Ellory tried not to get himself in a twist about it. He prepared his final exam quietly while Delia graded the assignments from the night before, both of them ready for the upcoming free time. On the last day school let out, Ellory found a small bundle on his office chair.

Merry Christmas, Professor, the card read. I thought you might like a new one(s).

Inside he found a deep and wide coffee mug, dark green and rimmed by a brown stripe dotted with black. Inside was a bed of chocolate mints and a voice recorder, sleek and silver-toned. Delia knew the condition of his current recorder, dented and scratched and about the size of his entire hand. He’d had it since he was an undergraduate, and figured she was right. It was about time to retire it.

With Delia gone for winter break, and the university observing holiday closure, the campus fell into a cold-ridden silence. Mist sloped down the barren hills, slinking in between the tall maple and oak trees, shrouding the lower halves of the buildings. Clouds banked low in the skies and Ellory thought it might snow before the new year. He most likely wouldn’t be able to visit his friends in Washington state until the following summer, once his article draft was submitted and squared away. In the meantime, he would take the opportunity to plan more of his lessons and snuggle down on the sofa with hot chocolate and episodes of Project Runway. He was so ready for some time to himself. 

**

The cold weather wasn’t all that bad, Sean thought. Having grown up in Louisiana, he was used to heat more than anything. But the cool air here in the Northern coast felt pretty good on his skin. Others tended to hurry from place to place bundled up in scarves and coats and knee-high boots. Sean felt completely comfortable walking around in his shorts and trainers, maybe throwing on a light sweater if he was going to be outside for an extended amount of time. 

With practices every afternoon during the semester, he’d hardly had time to decorate his apartment for Christmas. He didn’t plan on doing much, but he always figured a few lights in the right places could make any place look festive. The coaching staff had a small get-together at the dining hall the Friday school let out, had invited their players and had a table full of food – a whole turkey, ham and green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, muffins and rolls with butter, juice and water and beer for the staff. It was a calorie fest that the students deserved, pushing their physical limits, enduring both harsh weather conditions and Sean’s brutal scrimmages. It was the chance everyone needed to relax and enjoy each other’s company without the threat of whistles calling them to order, the pressure of practice and performance hanging over their heads. 

It would be a relaxing break, he thought. He could jog in the mornings, relax through lunch, hit the gym in the afternoon and tune in for the newscast by dinner. And then sleep, because sleep was his favorite thing to do. Sleep and food. You couldn’t go wrong. And with everyone gone, Sean imagined he might have the campus all to himself.

One icy Saturday afternoon, padding around his apartment wearing wool socks and boxers, he rooted around the top shelf of the hallway closet and found his box of decorations. He pulled at it, but it seemed stuck to the shelf. Finally managing to yank it free, it came down with a strip of wallpaper glued to the bottom.

He set the box down on his coffee table and began bringing out lights and window stickers and a wreath to hang on his door. He didn’t have a tree, but he liked to wrap a string of lights around the potted plant he kept in the corner of the living room. It was a bromeliad, almost impossible to kill and perfect for someone who spent most of the spring travelling to other campuses for games. And it was enough for his little family, even though they’d tease him when they got here. The apartment was small, or rather it was cozy, with one bedroom and a spacious living room adjacent to a kitchen and small alcove for his dining table. It hardly even took him an hour to decorate.

Picking up the left-over decorations, he piled them haphazardly back in the box to store away. But he hesitated, his eye catching on something poking out from beneath the box. It was the wallpaper stuck to the bottom, and it looked like something else was trapped beneath it. He fingered the edge and slowly peeled it free, eyes widening as another paper fell out from between and floated to the floor. It was a folded piece of cream parchment, thicker, a nice sort of paper. He scooped it up and examined it, opening it with his thumb. It was yellowed and slightly oily, probably from the glue of the wallpaper. He sank onto the sofa and read.

My dearest Ellory,

You looked so beautiful standing at the window just now. So tall and lean, with the white curtains fluttering at your feet. So beautiful. And the more time I spent with you these last two months, the more I couldn’t believe a person as extraordinarily beautiful as you could ever exist. I’ve not seen or met someone like you before, and I know in my heart that I never will again.

Sean stopped, looking away. This was--this wasn’t right. He felt suddenly uneasy holding the letter in his hands. The apartment had been wiped clean when he moved in, but he’d always known that it used to be Ellory’s residence, finding the fact both mildly thrilling and incredibly annoying. But there wasn’t a speck of anything personal to indicate that someone had once lived in the apartment. And now this letter, stuck and forgotten at the top of a high shelf in the closet, yellowing over the years, just waiting to be read again. Talking about the cold, detached professor Sean had known for almost three years now as beautiful, radiant, loved.

Why had Ellory left it? 

Sean shook his head, just putting the letter back on the shelf. He didn’t think he should know any more.