I sighed when I saw the caller ID. There was no good reason why my ex-wife, Christina, was calling me so soon after I dropped our son off at her house after my visitation weekend. “Hey Chris, what’s up?”

“Ethan, what the hell is up with that shithole you call a house?”

“’Hi Ethan, how are you?’” I mimicked her voice. “‘Good, Chris, thanks. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, thanks for asking…’”

“Cut the shit, Ethan. What happened to Noah this weekend?”

“Wait, what? We went to the zoo. I told you that. What’s going–”

“He doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Said you let him sleep with you?”

“Well, yeah. He didn’t want to sleep in his room here. I mean, he didn’t want to be in there at all. So, yeah, I let him sleep with me. I figured it’s a new place, he’s just not used to it.”

“Christ,” Christina exhaled. “Nothing else happened?”

“No, nothing else happened.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Chris –”

“Please call me Christina.”

“For Christ’s sake, I’ve called you Chris since we met, I can’t turn on a dime and call you Christina every time.”

“Well, please at least try.”

“Goodbye, Christina,” I added extra emphasis. “See you in two weeks.”

***

 “I just don’t like it, Dad,” Noah said.

“But it’s your room, buddy. Look, I put your favorite dinosaur sheets on the bed. You like those sheets, right?”

Noah nodded. “Daddy, I want to sleep with you,” he whined.

Part of me wanted to take a stand – isn’t that what you’re supposed to do as a father? Put your foot down? This was the third weekend Noah had been over since I moved into the house on Sutter, and he hadn’t slept a single night in the room I made up for him. But I was tired. He was tired. Neither of us had the energy to talk this one through. Maybe in the morning… “Okay, buddy, come on.” He climbed onto the bed. I settled him in, turned off the light and then started to get into what apparently now was my side when Noah was over.

“Dad?”

I stopped. “Yes?”

“Can we leave the bathroom light on?”

I looked through the darkness to the outline of the dark bathroom. I sighed, “Sure, buddy.” I turned the light in the bathroom on before climbing into bed. “Good night, Noah.”

“Night, Daddy.”

He fell asleep almost instantly. Me, not so much. It’s weird, but it felt like the house changed when Noah was in it. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s just been my perspective on the house – with the little one around, it’s no longer my bachelor pad and now I have to change my mindset to be “Dad” – or whether it was something… else. That night I thought I heard whispers right at the edge of hearing. I couldn’t make out any words, and I thought it might be the kids next door having a party and the sound drifting over. But there was no bass music or laughing or anything you’d associate with a party. Just what sounded like people whispering. My mind tried to rationalize it, but nothing made sense and the more I concentrated on trying to figure out what they were saying, the more unsettled I got. But I must have been tired because next thing I know the sun is streaming in the window, and Noah’s head is on my chest leaving a drool puddle on my shirt.

Most visitation weekends I pick up Noah from his Mom’s Saturday morning and bring him back Sunday evening. This weekend, though, Chris had gone out of town for the weekend and asked if I could take him to school on Monday and she’d pick him up after school. To me it meant I had extra time with my son, so that’s fine. We watched the latest Minions movie and then I took him out to dinner at his request. Again, he wanted nothing to do with his room, and I was happy to have another night with him so I didn’t argue when he asked to sleep with me.

But the whispering was back again. I mentally tuned it out and was nearly asleep when movement caught my eye. Something had moved between the lit bathroom and the bed. Eyes wide open now, I stared hard t the rectangle of light that was the bathroom door, waiting for a repeat. No movement, no dimming. But the whispers grew louder so that I could almost make out words… but not quite.

***

“Who did you have over at the house this weekend?”

“Hello to you, Chris – Christina,” I caught myself. “What are you talking about?”

“Noah told his friends that you always have people over when he’s there. Is that true? Do you have what’s her name there? Ellie?”

“Eleanor? No, we broke up like six months ago. Christina, no one was over at the house. It was just the two of us. What exactly did he say? I had people over?”

“Apparently, he said he doesn’t like the people at your house. Ethan, if any of your stupid friends is messing with my baby, so help me God…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down there. No one is at the house when he’s here. It’s literally just us.”

“So, he’s lying then?” she said in clipped tones. “You’re saying our son is a liar?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache I felt coming on every time Chris and I would fight. “Christina, no, no one’s calling him a liar. I don’t know why he’s telling people there’s people over here.”

She was silent for a long moment. “You swear to God?”

“Jesus, Christina…”

“Swear to God?”

I sighed heavily. “Yes, my hand to God, I’m not having anyone at the house when Noah’s here. That’s our time.”

She was quiet again. Then said, “…Because I won’t hesitate to go to court…”

“Goodbye, Chris,” I said deliberately, ending the call.

***

Two weeks later, Noah was asleep next to me in bed and I couldn’t tune out the whispering. I rolled over and caught something slip between the bed and the bathroom. I stared at the lit bathroom doorway – nothing. Something blurred in my periphery by the door to the hallway. The whispering grew louder, so loud that I looked down at Noah to see if it had woken him – still sound asleep. My eyes dart from the door to the hallway to the bathroom doorway and back, my arms instinctively holding Noah.

The whispering stops suddenly. The house is silent.

“You can’t protect him,” a female girl’s voice whispered right behind my right ear.

I leapt out of bed, spinning to see who was there. No one. I saw a shadow cross in front of the bathroom.

“Did they talk to you?” Noah’s voice came from the bed.

I looked down at him staring up at me, fear plain on his face. “Who? Did who talk to me?”

He shrunk into himself, tears welling up in his eyes. “They told me I can’t tell you or they would hurt me.”

The door to Noah’s room slammed shut with a bang. I jumped. The door to the bathroom slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness.

I lunged for the light switch, but no lights came on. I leaned over and scooped Noah up and moved into the hallway, heading for the front door. The table by the door tipped over, sending everything crashing to the floor, including the little bowl I kept my keys in. I bent, grabbed the keys, unlocked the front door and pulled. The front door didn’t budge. With a Herculean effort I can only attribute to Dad adrenaline strength, I wrenched the door open and strode out into the night, the door slamming behind me.

“I’m scared, Daddy,” Noah said as I buckled him into his car seat with shaking fingers.

“I know, buddy,” I said as reassuringly as I could. “We’ll be fine…”

“Where are we going, Daddy?”

I didn’t rightly know – I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “We’re going to find a hotel for the night. Everything will be better tomorrow. You have school in the morning.”

I started the car and hurried out of the driveway as I could see lights inside the house wink on and off furiously. As we sped through the neighborhood, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with my house, but I’d sort it out. Or burn the place to the ground – I didn’t rightfully know. I turned the radio on to soothe my nerves.

The loud whispering emanated from the car’s speakers.

Going with a little shorter story tonight. The goal is to get a full night’s sleep – especially since it feels like the heat might actually have lifted!

As I approached my dorm room at the end of the long corridor, I was grateful to see light coming from under the door – Aiden was still up. Not surprising – I was expecting him to be studying, what with midterms coming up.

I unlocked the door and let myself in. “Hey buddy,” I said.

“Hey Jacob,” he said over his shoulder as he sat at his desk.

“Sorry I’ve been a shitty roommate, bro. It’s just…”

“Ella,” he said with a smile. “Dude, I can’t blame you. Why would you hang out here when you could hang out with her?”

“I know, but I feel bad – we haven’t hung out in like a week.” I dropped the small duffel on my bed and started putting the dirty clothes in my hamper.

“Dude, seriously, it’s cool,” he turned completely in his chair.

“Let’s do something this weekend,” I offered. “Just the two of us – you want to drive up the coast and hit that surf spot off the point?”

“I’d like that,” Aiden said, turning to look at his surfboard leaned up against his bureau. Then added, “I need to see if I’m available, though.”

I laughed. “See if you’re available? Should I check with your secretary?”

“Screw you, man, I’ve got, you know, stuff…”

I stopped and turned to face him. “Stuff?”

“Stuff,” he said flatly.

A grin spread across my face. “Dude, what’s her name?”

“Who?”

“Whoever it is you’re going to see this weekend instead of surfing. You tell me!”

Aiden chuckled. “There’s no one…”

I was going to press him, but his demeanor had changed, he looked sad. “Alright, man. Text me, okay?”

“I will.”

I nodded at the book on his desk. “O chem?”

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Ugh,” he groaned.

“I’m telling you, man, Comp Sci doesn’t require O chem,” I threw a couple clean shirts in the duffel and grabbed some clean-ish underwear.

“I know…”

A knock came at the door.

Aiden and I looked at each other. “Expecting anyone?” I asked.

Aiden shook his head.

I shrugged and moved to the door. Opening it, I saw Mason, one of our RAs. “Hey Mason, what’s up man?”

His face was drawn, his eyes serious.

“Bro, what’s up?”

“I… I saw the light and hoped you were here. I didn’t want to text you…”

The look on his face started to make me nervous. “Dude, what’s up?”

“You haven’t heard?” he looked incredulous, his expression falling further.

“Heard what?”

“Aiden was in an accident. He was killed by a drunk driver two days ago.”

“The hell?” I said, confused. I turned to ask Aiden what Mason was talking about, but Aiden’s chair was empty, desk light off. I stared at the dark desk, at the empty chair…

“Daniel?” Mason asked gently.

I turned back to him, “I… he… We were just…”

“I’m sorry, man, I thought you already knew…”

I stared at Mason wordlessly, my brain unable to process.

Behind me came a crash that made both of us jump as Aiden’s surfboard crashed to the floor.

While I generally don’t write ghost stories through the year, I do jot down ideas whenever and wherever they strike. Case in point, I have a note with the above picture from November 25^th of last year when Akilah and I were driving back from Thanksgiving in Anacortes, Washington. I was trying to get my steps in wandering the Baldock Rest Area outside of Portland when I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the season. I snapped the above picture and titled the note with what is now the first sentence of this story.

Forget cemeteries, highway rest stops are the most haunted places.

Let me set the scene: it’s three am (you know, the Witching Hour), in the middle of Nowhere, Oregon just off of I5. I noticed the rest stop we pulled into had an interesting collection of trees that was at least noticeable in the dark. (I’m a bit of a tree nerd after all). At that moment there were still a few folks coming and going, so it didn’t feel like I was, you know, going off into the darkness (I was going off into the darkness)…

And my ride left me.

After reading the plaque about the “Grove of the States” (“a tree representing each state in the USA and the District of Columbia. […] conceived by the Oregon Attorney General, Robert Y. Thornton to honor the passage of Lady Bird Johnson’s 1965 Highway Beautification Act” in case you were wondering…), I wandered back to where Dave had parked the Subaru Crosstrek. Gone.

There’s a second set of bathrooms farther down – maybe I got turned around while I was taking issue with the selection of the bougie Giant Sequoia for the California tree instead of the much more appropriate Coast Redwood.

No Crosstrek.

Okay, that’s a lie – I think there’s probably always at least one Subaru Crosstrek in a rest stop at any given time. But no Dave’s sunshine orange 2019 Subaru Crosstrek. In a panic, I sprinted the length of the sidewalk until the road lengthens into an onramp for southbound I5. No Dave. I was alone. And the last streetlight in the rest stop chose that moment to wink off, the tall Douglas firs swallowing the light from other lights, leaving me in darkness. I felt an unnatural chill run down my spine as I slowly turned towards the tall evergreens.

I swear I saw a shadow move from dark trunk to dark trunk. I spun to face a whisper that seemingly came from behind me. A gray orb streaked past in my peripheral vision and I turned to face that, my heart beating faster with the realization that I wasn’t alone, that this copse of trees was teeming with spirits and they were all coming to me.

“Wait a minute,” I said out loud. “I’m a ghost. Why am I scared?”

“You’re scared?” a woman’s voice came from behind me. I spun to see a young woman with her blonde hair in dreadlocks that fell over her threadbare flannel shirt.

“I.. uh… was that my out loud voice?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “It was. Are you new here?”

I looked around and saw figures emerging from the trees – men, woman, some dark shadows. “Uh… yeah. I think I am.”

She laughed again. “Think you are? What happened? Too busy looking at the trees to notice your Living driving off?”

My eyes widened. “Yes, exactly that! I mean, the Grove of the States is a nice idea and all, but I have some legitimate concerns about some of the tree choices…”

“Whoa, tree guy…” She laughed as she put up her hands defensively. “Do you think you are going to stick around a while…?”

I raised an eyebrow, “I… I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, I didn’t know I could be apart from my… what did you call him? My ‘Living’?”

She shrugged. “That’s just what we call the people we attach to. I mean, generally, yeah, you need to be attached to a living entity – kind of tethers you. Otherwise you can kind of fade away. Isn’t that right, Jason?” She motioned to one of the dark shadows approaching.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said the shadow, the voice sounding hollow and muffled, like it was coming from deep inside a well.

“Give Jason a break,” a tall, well-built man with a neatly-trimmed goatee and shaved head. “I’m Alex,” he reached out a big paw of a hand and I shook it. “This is Autum,” he gestured to the dreadlocked girl. “You didn’t know you could change Livings? How did you attach to your Living that just drove off?”

“He… uh, he was at the coffee shop where I… I died. He performed CPR, even tagged along with the paramedics to the hospital. Seemed genuinely moved when I never came back…” I thought back to the day I died.

Alex nodded. “You didn’t have any family?”

I shook my head. “No. Only child. My parents died years ago.”

Autum shrugged. “I guess it makes sense you stuck with that Living.”

“Dave. His name was Dave Allen.”

Alex put his hand on my shoulder, “Dave Allen is probably halfway to Salem by now.”

I sighed heavily. “So… how does this place exist? Didn’t you say we have to stick with a Living?”

“That’s technically true, yeah,” Autum said. “Case in point, our cautionary tale, Jason, who thought he could just walk along the highway.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Jason’s far-off voice came from the shadow.

“I know, buddy,” Alex said. “We don’t know why rest stops allow ghosts to gather without Livings – and it’s not just this rest stop. It’s like they’re such transient places that they have their own energy vortex.”

“And you give me shit for being all woo-woo,” Autum laughed.

Alex smiled and rolled his eyes. “Just a theory…”

“Whatever it is, here we are,” Autum raised her arms over her head.

“So, we’re stuck here?”

“Nah,” Autum said, doing a little spin. “You can latch on to any of the Livings that pass through here…”

“Life-Latching, we call it,” Alex interjected.

“Alex calls it that,” Autum rolled her eyes now.

He shrugged sheepishly. “I’m still workshopping the term – do you prefer ‘Catching a life draft?’”

Autum laughed hard, “Oh my god, that’s terrible!”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Maybe drop that one.”

“Anyway,” Autum gathered herself, “Anytime you want to head out you can. Or,” she added with a smile, “You can hang out with us.”

“Did I hear you talking about the Grove of States?” Alex asked.

“I did, yeah. I mean, what’s with that spindly ponderosa pine for Arizona?”

“It should have been the Palo Verde, the actual state tree,” a voice came from behind me.

I turned to see a short black man in a genuine tweed jacket. “Parkinsonia florida, exactly,” I said excitedly.

He sighed. “That would make sense. Alas, Parkinsonia florida wouldn’t survive in this andisol soil.” He chuckled, “It much prefers the dry, sandy washes to Oregon’s rainy climate.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah… good point…” I offered my hand. “I’m Peter.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said shaking my head. “Dr. Lindon Hargrove. Pleased to meet you, Peter.”

“Doctor?” I asked.

“My PhD is in dendrology, the study of…”

“…The study of trees,” I finished, a smile creasing my face.

Lindon smiled back, surprised. “Yes… no one knows that.”

“I’m a bit of a tree nerd,” I said.

“Ah, of course.”

“So, why did they go with the pretentious Sequoia for California instead of the more egalitarian Coast Redwood?”

As Dr. Lindon Hargrove started explaining, “Well, don’t forget, technically both Sequoiadendron giganteum and Sequoia sempervirens share the California state tree designation…” I heard Alex say to Autum, “I think he’s going to stay awhile,” and Autum’s lilting laughter in reply.