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Fiction: Ghosts in the Machines
Jennifer Woo liked the peaceful atmosphere of the Dish Mat. Movements were slow and conversations were held in subdued voices. Most days, she sat and read novels behind the counter in the back. The Dish Mat was an automat that mostly ran itself. Anyone could get a quick meal from the multiple vending machines that lined the walls. During the week days, Jenny was there before 8am and closed a few minutes after 10pm. Despite the many instructions on the walls and the tent cards in various languages on the tables, people still asked Jenny questions. She had learned to disregard the minor irritation answering the same questions.
Occasionally, Jenny's mother, Prue, would come for a quick visit. Prue had appointed Jenny the publicist for their family businesses but Jenny didn't use much of that skill. Her mother liked to consult her daughters on nearly everything. She often said 'a family business needed all the family members or else it would collapse.'
On a rainy Tuesday, Jenny sat in the back trying to read an old Mary Higgins Clark mystery. The novel involved the kidnapping of children which had Jenny thinking of her daughter, Lucy. Her husband blamed Jenny for Lucy's disappearance. Why did Jenny take Lucy to the mall when there were perfectly good places to shop near their home? Why was she so stupid to play hero catching a purse thief while their child was being kidnapped? Why was she so ignorant as to believe her flakey sister Alex would be able to look after their child? For years, Jenny had ran the scenario over and over in her head but she couldn't see how anyone could snatch her child and sped off without being seen. With a fervent madness, she had ran around the entire ten-story mall looking for Lucy, pushing people aside, asking anyone if they had seen a three-year-old wearing a unicorn onesie and a cap with rainbow tassels but ended with nothing. The mall cameras caught nothing as they were broken. Witnesses saw nothing as they were all too busy. In her dreams, back in the mall, a ghost grabbed Lucy straight from her arms but after a time, it was Jenny who snatched Lucy away.
Jenny put the novel into her handbag and took out her notebook and pen. Lately, she had been noting customers' habits. In the five years she had worked at the Dish since her divorce, she had noted all the regulars and made charts of when they came in and what they ate. It was a habit that soothed her and kept her stationed in reality. Her wandering mind could go to the brink of destruction if it wanders too far. To anchor herself, she wrote trivial data. Her ever expanding notes had filled over 100 notebooks.
After having her homemade lunch, Jenny walked around the cafe, picking up trash and bussing tables. Sometimes unopened food were left but she couldn't put them back in the machines because they couldn't resell food that had been sitting out. Most times, Jenny took them home and gave them to her neighbor Mrs. Oats and her children.
Returning to her counter, she heard someone cursing at #10. It was rather strange for #10 to act up since it was barely a month old. There were three machines duplicating each content so if one was down, it wouldn't be a problem.
Jenny refrained from yelling at the man kicking #10. He was large and wide and probably could lift a car on his shoulders. She had to stretch a bit to look up at him as he was a foot taller than her.
"Sir, please stop kicking the machine," said Jenny.
"This piece of— This machine ate my money and gave me nothing. I want a refund." His dark brown eyes veered toward the scar on the left side of her face and settled on her two different colored eyes.
"Fine. May I have the receipt please?" She took the receipt and walked back to the counter. Underneath, she pulled out the top drawer and took out a form. "Fill this out and I'll give you your money." After he was done, she handed him a five dollar bill from the cash box. "Thanks," he said and grinned. This surprised her but she pursed her lips into a tight line. He kept on grinning as he turned toward another machine.
She pulled out the second drawer and retrieved a Out of service sign. As she pressed at the tape around the sign on #10, she caught a movement through the glass. She turned to see if anyone was looking her way. All were focus on their food or their companions. She leaned in for a closer view. There was a girl sitting cross-legged in row three instead of a sandwich. She was about three inches tall with chubby cheeks. Her rabbit-ears hair band swayed when she moved her head. Jenny's therapist said it was perfectly normal to see little girls like her daughter everywhere even after all these years. She quickly checked the sign was holding up and rushed back behind the counter.
Sometimes in the late afternoon, a customer was complaining about #11. Jenny gave the customer her refund and was sticking a Out of service sign on #11 when she noticed movement inside the machine. In place of a slice of pie in row three, there was a tiny boy sitting there and holding a teddy bear. Jenny gasped. She dared not veer her eyes toward #10 on her left. Hastily, she taped up the sign and rushed back to the counter. On a post-it, she wrote a note to have #10 and #11 check by their supplier's repair guy and stuck it into her notebook.
At 9:40 pm by the clock on the wall, someone stopped at the counter. Jenny looked up from her novel. The woman held the hands of two small children. It was early October and the weather had been cool but the woman wore an open-knit long blue sweater over a t-shirt and jeans while the girl wore a thin long-sleeved shirt with a faint unicorn drawing over a box pleat skirt and a rabbit-ears hair band and the boy, cradling a teddy bear, wore a quarter-sleeve shirt and cargo pants. Their innocent smiles made Jenny's heart skipped a beat.
"I don't suppose the machines still take cash?" said the woman with a half grin.
Jenny nodded. "Yes."
"How is the coffee? I am unfamiliar with this new brand," the woman smiled.
Last year, when the supply manager raised prices, Jenny's mother struck him on his head with her shoe. Then they changed supplier. "I do not know. I don't drink coffee." Jenny had quit ever since her first taste at age eight.
"Oh." The woman laughed like a bird, twittering lightly. "I suppose I should give it a try. It won't kill me, I'm sure. Thank you." She led her children toward one of the pie machines. Jenny noticed the three wore white sneakers with pink shoelaces.
At 9:50 pm, Jenny started cleaning up. The only table occupied was near the front. The woman and her two children were staring at the four sandwiches unopened in their paper triangle wrappings, two slices of apple pies in their paper cases, two cups of coffee and two juice boxes on the yellow tray.
It was not yet ten so Jenny returned to the counter and took out her novel.
When the clock struck ten, Jenny stood up and walked toward the table with the family of three. "We're closing," she said, looking from the children to the mother. The woman glanced at Jenny. "Please, just a few more minutes? We're waiting for my husband."
Jenny peered down at her wrist watch. There was no reason for her to wait and yet the sad look on the woman's face made Jenny relented. She took her seat behind the counter.
Twelve minutes passed and someone bursted through the door, sending the bell above ringing. A man limped in, a cane in his hand. He was breathing heavily.
Jenny made her way toward the front. "Sir, we're close. Come back tomorrow."
"Please, I just need a few moments. This is where my family had all been together before we were separated." The man was maybe in his late thirties. His tired blue eyes had deep lines and shadows beneath them.
Separated? Did that mean by death? And why did Jenny immediately think this?
Through the glass door, rain was pouring down. The man's clothes were damped and his face was covered with sweat beads and rain. Had the man ran all the way here in the rain? His white sneakers with pink laces squeaked as he moved.
"Just a few minutes," she said. What's a few minutes? No one was waiting for her at home. Though her mother will probably scold her for working late. Sometimes her sisters also texted or called. Of the five sisters, Jenny was the shy one, the one who needed coaxing before joining anything.
"Thank you." The man smiled. He limped toward the table where the woman and children sat. Grabbing a few napkins from the holder on the table, he dabbed his face and clothes. Jenny didn't know why she was looking. It wasn't her business.
It was 10:17 when she looked up from her reading. The man had his head down on the table but the woman and children were gone as well as the food. But as Jenny glanced around the space, she spotted them by the front door. The family of three was now with one extra - a man with tired blue eyes. The four waved and then they disappeared.
Did I really see that? Jenny shook the thought away. It was time to go home. She gathered her things into her bag and put on her coat. By the table, she called to the man to wake up but he didn't move. A sudden thought came to her - was he dead? His skin was cold and there was no pulse, not on his neck, wrist and no air coming out of his nostrils. The man was gone. He came only to die so he could be with his family. How or why did she know that? She got out her phone and called the police.
It took two hours before the police arrived and by then it had stopped raining.
"So you just found him dead, just like that?" asked Officer Crooke as he held the pencil over his pad. With his drooping eyes and wrinkled uniform, it was as if he had just woken.
"Yes, I found him dead." Jenny was exhausted. She glanced at her wrist watch: 1:10. The small crowd attracted by the flashing lights had all gone.
"Alright, we can stop here. But you will have to come down to the station and make a formal statement tomorrow. Can you do that, Miss Woo?" He met her eyes.
She didn't look away. "Yes."
"Do you need a ride home?"
"No." She walked around him to the door of the Dish. They had been standing outside while the other policemen did their work inside. After a quick glance around the entire space, she turned off the lights and locked the door. Only when she had pulled down and locked the security gate did she realize Crooke was still there.
"Are you sure you don't need a ride?" He crooked one thick eyebrow.
"Yes. Good night." Jenny stood, not wanting to move until he did.
"Good night," he said. He got into the police car, gave her a glance and drove off.
Jenny should've been frightened - seeing ghosts, founding a dead body, being out late - but she wasn't. Fear is born out of people's discomfort with the truth and fear leads to evil impulses. Or said Mrs. Oats.
Ever since Jenny saw her father's ghost at his funeral asking her if they remember to put him in his blue suit and seeing his corpse, she had no fear of ghosts or corpses. As for being out late, she was used to it. Only the halting of the planet will make her afraid.
Across the street, by the hair salon, the man who kicked #10 was smoking a cigarette. Jenny knew his name was Apollo and he owned the salon. Behind him, his deceased mother sat on the bench - she appeared only when he smoked.
Jenny could feel Apollo's eyes following her as she took the couple of steps to next door. But once she unlocked and entered the iron door, she forgot about him. Walking up the flight of stairs, she thought of the dead man. If he was able to be with his family after he died, wouldn't she reunite with Lucy when she die? The thought made her smiled.
Good -Christine cmlk79.blogspot.com
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