2018

31 Ghosts 2018: October 28 – Leftovers

“Your leftovers, sir, and here is the bill. No rush, please take your time.” The waiter set the take-out container and the small leather folio with the check on the table. “Everything was good?”

“Everything was amazing!” Lisa said.

“Absolutely,” I agreed. “We drive past here all the time. I can’t believe we didn’t notice the place until now!” I slipped my credit card in with the bill and handed it back to our server.

“But we’ll definitely be back!”

“Definitely,” I agreed. The waiter took the bill away and I looked around at the scattered groups of people among the empty tables. “Seems a lot of people haven’t discovered this place either.”

“It’s a weeknight,” Lisa pointed out. “I bet they’re hopping on the weekend.”

The waiter brought back the folio and I signed the credit card slip, adding a healthy tip and we stood to go.

“Please come back soon, our server said.”

“We will,” I said, holding the door for Lisa.

We parked across the street and down a bit, so we crossed the empty street and started down the sidewalk.

“Oh,” Lisa said, “I wonder if they have a takeout menu?”

“I’ll go check,” I turned and froze. “Lisa?”

“Yes?” She turned and gasped.

The lights of the restaurant were gone. In its place was a boarded up building with a red tag in front of the door. The big front windows were covered by plywood, but the telltale black smudge of smoke was visible in the streetlight.

Lisa looked at the cardboard box in her hand. “Guess takeout is out of the question…”

31 Ghosts 2018: October 27 – Hairpin Curve

“It’s stupid, right?”

The bartender gave me a steady look but didn’t answer the question. He poured me another Jack and Diet before he said, “Let me get this straight… You live in Woodside, and you’re coming from Pescadero.”

I nodded and took a drink, “Right so far.”

“And yet,” he continued, “instead of driving straight down 84 here to your home, you regularly drive 45 minutes out of the way because you’re afraid of a sign?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds pretty silly…”

“That’s the story you just told me.”

“Sure, yeah,” I stammered, “but it’s not a regular sign…”

“Oh, right, when you’re going downhill…”

“Downhill only,” I emphasized.

“When you’re going downhill and look in the rearview, the yellow hairpin sign for people going uphill is a psycho man?”

“Well, a man in a yellow slicker with a lantern. He might be psycho. I don’t know. I don’t stop to ask…”

“You know it’s just the sign, right?”

“Yes, yes… Logically I know it’s just the sign. It’s just the sign, right?”

He nodded. “And yet…”

“And yet I drive 45 minutes out of the way to take an alternate route over the hill.”

“You’re a good guy, Milo,” the bartender said.

“But?”

“But you’re an idiot in this case.”

“Call ‘em like you see ‘em, Dale?”

“You know it. And you’re being an idiot. Seriously, Milo. You hear yourself?”

“You’re right. You’re right. That’s why I’m here tonight. I’m heading down 84. Facing my fear!” I held up my glass and jiggled the ice cubes, “A little liquid courage, too.”

“You’re not driving right away, are you?”

“No, I don’t think the psycho in the slicker is going anywhere. Too late to get wings?”

“Not at all.”

After a few minutes, Dale came by and checked on my empty glass, pointing to it with a silent question. “Hold the Jack this time.”

“Wise,” he said, pouring a plain Diet Coke.

“Just to be clear,” I asked. “You’ve never heard of any slickered murderer around here? No one died a horrible death while wearing a yellow slicker? Holding a lantern?”

Dale laughed a deep belly laugh. “There’s been plenty of accidents around here, sure. But as far as I know no yellow slickered psychos.”

“Okay, just being sure.”

I didn’t leave Alice’s Restaurant until they were starting to close, around 8. By that point I didn’t feel anything from the alcohol except I felt slightly less anxious for the drive down the hill. Dave was right, it was silly. I knew that. But it was good to talk to someone.

I took my time starting down the hill. I even pulled over to let someone pass – usually I’m the one hoping someone pulls over. I wasn’t in a hurry tonight. There’re a few hairpin curves on the road, and only the last one is the one I have any issues with. The first two – and all three have the yellow hairpin curve warning – have always been fine and were tonight as well.

My palms started sweating as I approached the last major hairpin curve. No cars behind. No lights coming up ahead. I brake for the right-hand turn, swallowing hard. I turn into it, heart pounding, straighten out, and then I look in my rearview mirror…

And I see the street sign, bright yellow illuminated by light. Not a psycho in a slicker. I let out an audible sigh and smile relieved. Just a sign! As the road is about to curve again, I look into the rearview again to see the sign again. Instead, I see the scarred, weathered face of a man wearing a yellow slicker sitting in my back seat.

“Boo.”

31 Ghosts 2018: October 26 – The Exhibition, 2

“Did you enjoy the exhibit?” Rachel smiled as she took the red audio tour devices from the two women, disconnecting the player and handing the headset to Jason to sanitize.
“It was… unbelievable,” the blonde woman said.
“You have amazing tour guides,” said the other. They shared a look and walked away laughing.
“Tour guides?” Jason asked.
Rachel shook her head. “No clue. We don’t have anyone on the floor tonight, right?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Jason said.
Rachel shrugged.
“Check it out,” Jason nodded behind Rachel. She turned to see an older couple – early sixties probably – staring around in a daze. But apparent confusion wasn’t what caught Jason’s eye, it was what they were wearing. The woman had a well-worn black coat over a navy dress dotted with small yellow flowers, while the man had a long trench coat over a suit with a dull black tie and a brown fedora. Both outfits looked very well used, but more than that they seemed… dated. Other patrons fluttered past them without taking notice, and the woman noticed Jason and Rachel looking at them. Saying something to her husband she pointed, then they started hurrying over.
When they came within a few feet, Rachel gave them her best warm smile and said “Guten Abend!”
The woman’s face lit up. “Oh! Du sprichst Deutsch?” and she took her hand to shake.
“Ja,” Rachel replied, “Ich bin ein wenig aus der Übung…”
The man beamed as well, “Es ist ein Glück, dass wir dich getroffen haben!”
“What are they saying?” Jason asked.
“She asked if I spoke German. I said yes, but I’m a bit out of practice. He said it was lucky they ran into me.”
“You speak German?”
“Year abroad in Berlin. Will you cover for me?”
“Yeah,” Jason said a little surprised at the exchange. “No worries.”
“Bist du hier für die Ausstellung?” I asked if they had come for the exhibition.
“Oh, ja, ja!” the woman confirmed.
Rachel suggested they check their coats so they’d be more comfortable and led them to the coat check.
“Hey, Taylor, these two would like to check their coats.” Turning to the couple – Hans and Emma – how the coat check worked and handed them their ticket. “Thanks Tay!”
“You know them?” Taylor asked.
Rachel looked at the couple who were grinning with excitement now that they had a guide. “Just met them. But I don’t think anyone else on staff knows German, so I figured I’d take them around the Baumann exhibition.”
“Have fun!”
They took the elevator up to the fourth floor and as soon as the doors opened the tail of the line snaking out came into view. This looked longer than Rachel had seen the exhibit.
“So many people!” Emma exclaimed in German.
“Yes,” Rachel replied in German. “The exhibit closes this weekend. Everyone wants one last look at Baumann’s work.”
The two exchanged a prideful look.
Rachel led them past the serpentine line up to the front where Aly metered the number of people going into the exhibition at once. “Hey Rach,” she started. “You know no passes, right?”
“Oh, I know – nothing during the last week. These are VIPs,” Rachel explained. At the museum “VIP” had a very quantifiable designation and referred to those who donated an obscene amount of money.
Aly looked them up and down. “Really? They don’t look like VIPs…”
Rachel knew she was going to have to bluff, but she decided to bluff big. “They’re from Germany. One of the largest and oldest shareholders in Volkswagen.”
Emma and Hans waved at Aly enthusiastically.
“You wouldn’t know it…” she said, suppressing a sneer. “Go on in…” she waved a hand at them and turned back to the line.
“Thanks, Aly!” Rachel led the couple into the exhibit where they walked to “Toy Horse With Duck”, one of Baumann’s first successful paintings where a toy hobby horse lay on its side, with the viewer up above and in front of it. Looming over the horse and stick was the deep shadow of a yellow ducky toy.
“That’s the horse you gave him when he was four!” Emma said to Hans.
“Yes, yes,” he agreed. “I don’t remember the duck, though…”
They had a running commentary on just about every painting. “Was this when he was visiting Dusseldorf?” and “Really! Affe should have some decency – that woman has no clothes on!” and “I just don’t understand.”
When we came upon “Harvest at Mainburg,” Hans and Emma stopped in awe. Hans discretely dabbed at his eyes, while Emma openly sniffed and let tears run unchecked down her cheeks. “Heimat” Hans said putting his arm around Emma and holding the woman tight against him. Home.
“This was one of his favorites,” I explained. “He never sold it. Never parted with it until he died.”
Hans closed his eyes and nodded solemnly.
By contrast, when we stood before Baumann’s widely regarded masterpiece, “Moon Over Dresden,” Hans and Emma stared openly impressed, but not moved in the way they had been. “When was he in Dresden before the war?” Emma asked Hans.
“Before the war? I didn’t think he’d been there…”
“The left side there is clearly Dresden before the bombing. Didn’t your brother live there before the war?”
“Oh, Gerhard, yes, yes. That must have been it.”
Rachel watched fascinated at the contrast of the two older people bickering over logistical technicalities while the patrons around them gawked in amazement at the painting.
They continued on through the rest of the exhibit, their comments less personal for the second section, and more simply appreciative of the works. Finally they came to the end and Rachel escorted them to the coat check to retrieve their coats.
“Thank you so much, Rachel! We are so grateful you were able to show us around the exhibit,” Emma said, embracing Rachel in a tight hug.
“Yes, thank you so much. Seeing Werner’s work was… such a treat. Thank you.”
“Habe einen wunderschönen Abend!” I called after them as they headed down the main stairs.
“I heard you said they were VIPs,” Jason said. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get busted?”
“Not in the slightest,” she said as she pulled out her phone and started browsing.
Jason shook head, “Seriously? Who were those people?”
Rachel turned the phone to Jason, showing him a photograph of the same couple, younger by perhaps a decade. The sepia-toned picture had scratches and was marred around the edges. The caption read, “Hans and Emma Baumann.” “They died in the camps during the war,” Rachel added.
The blood ran out of Jason’s face as he stared at the picture and Rachel took the red audio tour devices from the family coming out of the exhibit, disconnecting the player and handed the headset to Jason to sanitize.