Swinging Wake

“Hi Ben.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Tiffany Mack knew my name. I couldn’t fathom how, or why, but it was the encouragement I desperately needed in the moment. It had taken every last ounce of nerve I had to walk up to her and say 'hi', after nearly seven years of hopeless, distant pining.

Tiffany was the coolest girl who ever decided to dress like a librarian from 1912 and, appropriately, go work at a library. At some point in high school she’d decided that full skirts, tweed, and waistcoats where the way to go, I could not disagree with her. She was bold and confident, and I adored her. From a distance. Until that moment.

It was the town’s annual Harvest Party. Everyone turned out because it was one of the few things to do around Halloween that wouldn't get you arrested. I had tagged along with a few friends who had since abandoned me to hang out with other people. Tiffany was found standing off to the side of the cake walk, sipping an iced coffee through a straw. It was weird to see her alone. Although, when I thought about it, I usually saw her alone. I assumed she’d be there with friends too. From the spooky librarian aesthetic she absolutely rocked day to day, I assumed this was her season.

“You know, they say that library’s haunted,” I blurted out in the middle of the conversation. Things had rolled around to where we were working. I had a boring desk job, and it was the only thing I could think to say in the moment. The moment the words were out, I cringed. She had probably heard that stupid rumor a thousand times.

“Oh, that’s because it is,” she replied smoothly, swirling her coffee. She smirked, eyes glittering. “Like super haunted.”

I chuckled nervously. “Like, you see ghosts and stuff?” I asked.

“All the time,” she confirmed. “That’s why turnover is so high.”

I continued to chuckle, nodding and looking out over the party, not sure if she was messing with me or not. The music paused on the cake walk and a little girl squealed as she won a cupcake.

“You don’t believe me,” Tiffany said flatly.

“No, I—sure it’s just—you know…ghosts…” I replied lamely, grimacing and looking away.

“They’re having a party Sunday night, Halloween,” Tiffany said. “Do you want to come?”

“They?”

“The ghosts,” she replied simply, flashing him a grin. “Halloween is great for them. Something about the veil being thin, and it’s easier for them to move around, and they can invite all their friends over.”

“The ghosts are having a party?” I stated, nodding. “You sure they won’t mind me showing up?”

“Of course not! The more the merrier,” Tiffany said. “It’ll be nice to have another live one, you can help me with the music.”

“The music?”

“Yeah, the youngest person there is going to be like, a hundred years old—other than me, obviously,” she a little breathlessly. “They don’t know how to use Spotify.”

“Sure, yeah, I can help with that,” I said lamely. “So…Sunday?”

“Yeah,” she nodded and sucked the last of her coffee through the straw. “Things kick up right at sunset, but they’re going to go all night, so you can show up whenever. I realize it’s kind of late notice. You probably already have plans.”

“Nah, I’m—I’ll be there. See you Sunday.”

“See you Sunday.” Tiffany tossed her plastic cup in the nearest waste bin and breezed away.

It was a full minute before I could get my legs to work again. Was this a date? Had Tiffany Mack asked me on a date? It couldn’t be. She was just trying to get me to the library on Halloween to prove there were ghosts or something, that was all.

Just…ghosts.

I got ready Sunday evening and swung by the grocery store on my way to the library to get snacks. It was a party, and I felt like I should bring something, but what do you bring to a ghost party? Can ghosts even eat? Obviously there was a chance this wasn’t a ghost party at all and she was having a laugh at my expense. Maybe it would be the librarian Halloween party or something? I picked out some chips and dip and drove over.

The library was set back from the road, with a wide lawn and trees blocking the view of the front door. I pulled into the parking lot and froze.

There they were. Ghosts.

Luminous figures stood just outside the library doors, chatting and laughing and greeting even more ghosts who appeared out of thin air and walked or drifted inside. I stared at them through the windshield, swallowed hard, then picked up my chips and dip and made my way towards the door.

Their shapes became clearer as I approached. One was an older gentleman in a plush smoking jacket, with a frankly impressive mustache. He held a cigar in one hand that didn’t appear to be lit. Across from him was a tall woman in fitted coat and long skirt, with a ridiculous big hat covered in flowers and what I hoped were fake birds. She looked like she should have been strolling along the first-class deck of the Titanic, not hanging out at my local library. The final ghost at the door was a girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve, in a frilly dress and button-up leather boots. Her hair was done up in thick sausage curls, with bows just over each ear. She was the first to notice me, and turned to tug on the lady’s arm, pointing in my direction.

“We’ve got a breather, Tiffany!” the woman called through the door. “Shall we run him off?”

“Uh…” I was already taking a step backward when Tiffany appeared at the door, wearing her very finest autumnal skirt and waistcoat. She smiled warmly, stepping between the ghosts at the door like they weren’t, you know, ghosts.

“You made it!” she greeted me. “And you brought snacks, thank you! Come on in!”

The woman in the giant hat cleared her throat.

“My dear, won’t you introduce us to your gentleman friend?”

“Oh, right! Everyone, this is Ben. We went to high school together,” Tiffany said. I raised a hand to wave feebly at the ghosts, who nodded politely back. “Ben, this is Winnifred, Penelope, and Aberforth,” she said indicating the woman in the giant hat, the girl dressed like a doll, and the man in the smoking jacket respectively. “They’re some of the regular library residents.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said nervously.

“Are you courting Miss Tiffany?” Penelope asked. I balked, and Winnifred chuckled amiably.

“Now dear, that is a very forward question to ask someone to whom you have only just been introduced,” she said primly, looking pointedly at Tiffany as if she still expected an answer to the question.

“Let me show you where to put the snacks,” Tiffany said quickly, waving me into the building.

It was dim inside, lit by a broad selection of votive candles and the gently glowing bodies of the deceased. There were dozens of them, chatting in the corners, drifting in and out of walls, and perusing the long table of snacks that had been set up near the customer service desk. Lively music played from the PA system, and a group of ghosts had gathered in the center of the space to dance, occasionally passing right through a shelf that got in the way.

We stopped at the help desk, and I went to add my contribution to the snack table, but Tiffany stopped me.

“Oh, wait! Not yet. There’s uh…there’s kind of an intentionality to it,” she explained plaintively, clasping her hands together. “You have to intend it for the ghosts when you set it down, like an offering, sort of. The first couple years it helped if I said it out loud, like—'this here bowl of M&Ms is for the ghosts’—that sort of thing.”

“Ah,” I breathed, nodding like it all made sense. An hour ago I would have firmly believed this particular direction was a joke, but the translucent man in a tailcoat walking through the table indicated otherwise. “So…I brought these chips for the ghosts. Please enjoy.”

“Thanks again for bringing stuff,” Tiffany said.

“No problem,” I said, gazing out over the party, slack-jawed. Tiffany waited politely, entirely unperturbed by the fact we were surrounded by dead people. “Uh… you said we were manning a playlist, right?”

“Right,’ Tiffany nodded and ushered me behind the customer service desk. One of the computers was on and displaying a media player.

“What is all this?” I asked, scrolling through the list of titles. “You’ve certainly got…variety.”

“I told you, the youngest person here is nearly a hundred years old—”

“Besides you.”

“Besides me,” she smiled. “They like songs they know how to dance to.”

“They know how to dance to ‘Thriller’?”

“I sneak in some new stuff, too,” Tiffany said mischievously. “If there were too many they’d complain, but one every so often is fun. I’ve gotten really good feedback on techno and dub-step, actually.”

I snorted out a laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Tiffany grinned. “Try ‘Death by Glamour’ next.”

“Will do.”

Tiffany slipped into one of the rolling chairs behind the desk and pulled another one out for me. We sidled up to the computer, shoulder to shoulder, scrolling through the options. I tried to stay focused on the songs, but she was right next to me. She smelled like cinnamon.

“Can we get a proper waltz next?” A woman with feathers in her hair draped herself over the desk. I startled, knocking into Tiffany with my elbow. The ghostly woman pulled an old-fashioned cigarette holder out of the air and took a long, fruitless draw off of it. Her dress was positively covered in ruffles, with a tiered mass of fabric gathered at her back. “We haven’t had a proper waltz all night.”

“Of course,” Tiffany said, cuing up something appropriately named, ‘Ghost Waltz,’ and rubbing her ribs where I had knocked into her. I winced. “Victoria, this is Ben. Ben, this is Victoria. She visits the library a lot.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, bobbing my head awkwardly.

“Oh, but you’re living!” Victoria exclaimed, shimmying around the desk to take a closer look at me. “Tiffany, dear, do you have living friends now!”

“Yes Victoria,” Tiffany replied stiffly. “I have living friends.”

“Marvelous!” Victoria said, extending her hand to me. “A pleasure to meet you, dear.”

I took her hand—or I made contact with her hand. There was a physical presence in the air, like cold electricity, but it felt nothing like a hand I could hold. Victoria accepted the gesture though, and dropped her hand again.

“Victoria!” Aberforth boomed from across the room, having come in from outside. I saw Winnifred stroll over to a group of similarly dressed women in the corner. Penelope darted through the dancers towards the snack table. “How perfectly splendid!”

“Aberforth!” Victoria drew his name, gliding to meet him halfway to the door and walking with him back towards the desk. “Tiffany is preparing a waltz, would you join me?”

“I’d be delighted,” Aberforth replied, kissing her hand.

Tiffany’s expression lit up suddenly, and she lifted up from her chair, waving both hands. A pair of ghosts across the room, a boy and girl dressed like an old-timey Christmas card, complete with bonnets and capes, responded in kind. Rather than moving through the dancers, they drifted up into the air, passing over the dance floor and coming to rest lightly on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Tiffany said happily. “I was worried with all the frosts we’ve been getting.”

“Nothing is properly frozen yet, so it’s fine,” the girl said, passing through the desk to embrace Tiffany. I wondered what that felt like. Up close, the girl looked more like a young woman—probably seventeen or eighteen—the boy as well. He removed his hat, nodding to Tiffany and then me.

“Right! Ben, this is Agnes and Gilbert,” Tiffany introduced them. “Agnes, Gilbert, this is Ben.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gilbert extended his hand and I…made contact for the strangest handshake I had ever experienced. Agnes shot Tiffany a bright look, and Tiffany shook her head quickly. “I think I’ve seen you at the pond before.”

“The pond?”

“We haunt the skate pond at the park,” Agnes explained, as if that were a completely normal thing to do.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve been down there a couple of times,” I said, trying to remember if I’d ever seen any ghostly figures on the water.

‘Death by Glamour’ ended, and Victoria’s requested waltz picked up. Gilbert grinned, turning to Agnes with his hand extended.

“Would you do me the honor?” he asked.

“Of course,” Agnes said, doing a ghost’s best impression of a blush. They turned back out on to the dance floor, walking this time instead of floating.

“They’re the sweetest,” Tiffany said, taking a seat again. I followed suit.

“You know a lot of ghosts,” I observed.

“Yeah, you know, they’re around,” Tiffany said with a little shrug, fiddling with the edge of her skirt.

“I’ve never seen ghosts before,” I said. “Even in the library. Are they this…visible… the rest of the year? Or is it because it’s Halloween?”

“They’re visible when they want to be,” Tiffany explained. “It’s just easier this time of year, and this is when they can travel away from their usual places and pay visits.”

“Everything alright over here?” Winnifred wandered around the corner, picking a chip out of the bowl and sampling the dip—or rather, she picked up a strange, ghostly echo of a chip. The food in the bowl remained untouched.

“Yes Winnifred, thank you,” Tiffany replied. “Have you had a chance to check in with everyone?”

“Not yet,” Winnifred said haughtily. “Mrs. Bennet hasn’t made an appearance yet.”

“She usually prefers haunting her old house on Halloween though.”

“Oh yes,” Winnifred smiled wickedly and winked at me. “We all know how fun it can be to spook the tourists!”

As if on cue, Penelope dropped from the ceiling to perch on the desk, right over the keyboard.

“Boo!” she shouted, throwing up her hands and cackling. I jumped, making an entirely undignified sound and pushing my chair back from the desk hard enough to hit the wall. Winnifred laughed gleefully. Tiffany had barely reacted.

“Well done, dear!” Winnifred said to Penelope. The girl gave them all a dainty curtsy before hopping down off the desk.

“Nice, yes, very scary,” I managed, tapping my chest lightly with my knuckles. Penelope giggled, snatching a phantom cookie from the snack table. Winnifred helped herself to some punch.

“Are you okay?” Tiffany asked quietly, leaning in close. I couldn't bring myself to admit how hard my heart was pounding.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I told her entirely unconvincingly.

“I can ask them to leave you alone.”

“No, it’s fine, just…” I swallowed. “This is all very…new.”

“You’re handling it very well, all things considered.”

“Thanks.”

“Poor dear,” Winnifred commented, gazing sadly towards a girl who had just emerged from the far wall. She was dressed in the kind of long, narrow dress you saw in Jane Austen movies, with curls around her face and long gloves up to her elbows. The girl looked around the room, silver tears streaming down her face, before finding an empty seat against the wall and sitting down, wringing her hands anxiously.

Tiffany tapped my shoulder. “Do you know how to waltz?” she asked urgently.

“No,” I replied quickly. “Why?”

“Just checking,” she said. “Be right back.”

Tiffany hurried across the room, slipping around the assembled ghosts and dodging between the dancers as if they were corporeal. She stood in front of the weeping girl, back straight and hands folded. Between the distance and the music, I couldn’t hear what she said, but after a moment, the girl seemed to giggle, putting a hand over her mouth and looking about the room bashfully.

“You think she’d expect it by now,” Penelope commented. “Tiffany does this every year now.”

“Expect what?” I asked.

“Poor girl’s on a loop, she can’t help it,” Winnifred said, sipping her punch. I was about to ask again what they meant, but Tiffany extended her hand to the girl, bowing slightly, and the girl stepped out onto the dance floor with her. They moved together for a waltz, Tiffany in the lead, and set off twirling over the dance floor. The new girl beamed, laughing and spinning with Tiffany, tears gone.

“Ah,” I said to no on in particular.

Penelope finished her cookie and ran up to Agnes and Gilbert as they came around near the desk, tugging on Gilbert’s cape.

“Gilbert!” she chimed. “Can I have a dance?”

“Do you mind?” Gilbert asked Agnes.

“Of course not,” she replied warmly, kissing him on the cheek and breaking away to make room for Penelope. “Have fun.”

Penelope reached for Gilbert’s hands, but instead of crouching to make up for their height difference, he just grabbed her around the waist and spun away, Penelope shrieking giggles. Agnes joined Winnifred and I at the desk, lightly hopping up to sit on the counter. It was strange to me how some of the ghosts embraced their freedom from the laws of physics, floating and passing through things with ease, while others moved about as if still rigidly bound by them.

I stayed and manned the playlist while Tiffany danced along with a few more waltzs, and then 'Time Warp', chatting with Agnes. Like many of the more familiar ghosts, she seemed to already have ideas about Tiffany and me. She was polite about it, asking questions about my work and how Tiffany and I knew each other, but the subtext was blatantly there, and I was sweating by the time she left to rejoin Gilbert on the dance floor.

As it turned out, the ghosts did know how to dance to ‘Thriller’. Winnifred sidled up next to me while the others rushed the dance floor to explain that Tiffany had taught everyone the moves a few years back. It was nice to learn something new every so often, after all. Things could get bland when you lived eternally.

They all liked Tiffany, and I mean, of course they did. Tiffany was great. The ghost’s questions had me wondering if they thought Tiffany also liked me. The chances were so slim I couldn’t give myself room to hope. It was probably just like bringing someone to a family gathering and all the aunts assuming you were dating. That had to be it.

The playlist had circled around to a reel before Tiffany made her way back to the desk.

“Thanks for keeping track of that,” she said.

“No problem.”

“Margaret is here every year,” Tiffany said, nodding towards the weeping girl, no longer weeping. “She’s a lonely one. Always looking for a partner and having trouble finding one.”

“Do you always ask her?”

“The last couple years,” she said. “I started practicing more old ballroom dances so I could join in sometimes."

“You seem pretty good at it.”

“Thanks…” Tiffany looked all around the room, sitting on her hands. “Do…you want to dance with me?”

My hearth thudded again. It was a very nice thought, but I inwardly cringed at the thought of making a fool of myself trying to keep up with someone who actually knew what they were doing.

“I don’t know how to dance,” I said. Tiffany smiled slyly.

“I asked if you wanted to,” she said pointedly. “Not if you knew how.”

“I’ll just step on your feet,” I insisted, avoiding eye contact.

Tiffany nodded slowly, her smile becoming somewhat fixed.

“Okay,” she said softly, then after a moment, “I’m gonna go check on Margaret again.”

“Okay,” I replied, but Tiffany had already turned away. I had barely enough time to let out a beleaguered sigh when a strange, icy tingle impacted the back of my head.

“What was that?” Gilbert demanded, appearing at my side.

“The lady asked you to dance,” Aberforth added, striding right through the snack table to join in.

“You hurt her feelings!” Penelope popped out of the ground at my feet, sending me scrambling backwards again.

“Penelope, darling, this is a conversation for the men. Do run along,” Aberforth said, waving her away. Penelope stuck her tongue out at him and sank back into the floor.

“I don’t—It wasn’t—she was just being nice,” I protested.

“We are all well past niceties around here, young man,” Aberforth said, taking a pointless puff of his cigar. “The lady showed an interest, and I can’t imagine you showing up tonight if it weren’t reciprocated.”

I wanted to fall through the floor. This really was all the aunts assuming we were dating—or uncles, in this case.

“I really don’t know how to dance,” I defended, weakly. Gilbert rubbed his eyes.

“So let Tiffany lead,” he said. “She knows how.”

I winced. “I’ll just embarrass her.”

Aberforth rolled his eyes, but Gilbert grabbed the arms of my chair, reaching through me to do it. With what looked like a goliath effort, he rotated the chair so we were facing each other.

“You are not guaranteed tomorrow,” he said forcefully. It sounded like something that would have been a threat, but the way his voice strained made it sound desperate instead.

“Gilbert, what are you doing to Ben?” Tiffany asked. She stood on the other side of the desk with Agnes, who had an arm around her shoulder like she had led Tiffany back over. Tiffany’s nose was a bit red, and I wondered if she was getting chilled being in such close contact with Agnes.

“We’re just talking,” Gilbert said nonchalantly, leaning back against the counter.

“Right,” Tiffany said flatly. She took them all in—Aberforth looking annoyed, Gilbert playing cool, even Penelope, who had stuck her head back up through the floor. “Will y’all give us a minute?”

“Certainly,” Aberforth exclaimed, strolling off and waving the others away. Tiffany circled the desk and sank into the seat next to me, sighing.

“I’m sorry if I’m causing trouble with your friends, ” I said.

“No, no, you’re not causing trouble,” Tiffany said quickly. “They’re…very opinionated. And, honestly, they understand a lot about people. They just, um…don’t have any patience for certain things.”

“Such as?”

“I like you, Ben,” she said softly. I blinked at her, certain I’d misheard.

“Sorry, what?”

“I like you,” she repeated, chuckling anxiously. “It’s why I invited you. I’ve had a crush on you since high school, and I was really happy when you came over at the harvest party, and…” she picked at her thumbnail, “I don’t know if you agreed to come tonight because you were curious or—”

“I like you too,” I said quickly, heart hammering. “I’ve had a crush on you since high school, too. It took all the nerve I had to talk to you on Friday.”

“Really?” Tiffany asked, scrunching up her nose in the cutest possible way. “Why?”

“You’re so cool…” I said before I could stop myself. Tiffany snorted.

“I am not.”

“You are so.”

“It has been made abundantly clear to me, by a great many people, that I’m… a freak,” Tiffany said, her voice cracking over the last bit.

There was a look on her face I didn’t know how to deal with. I wasn’t used to seeing it on other people.

“I like your style, and how confident you always seem,” I said shyly, “and I think it’s pretty cool that you just casually hang out with ghosts.”

Tiffany smiled, biting her lip. It was hard to see in the dim light, but I thought she might actually be blushing.

“I really don’t know how to dance,” I said nervously, “but it looks like you’re pretty good at leading, so…”

Tiffany grinned. She stood, putting one hand primly behind her back and extending her other hand to me.

“Would you do me the honor?” she asked grandly.

“It would be my pleasure,” I said, taking her hand and letting her pull me to my feet. “Oh, wait.”

I leaned back to cue up the next song, then followed her out onto the dance floor. The waltz faded out, and “Spooky, Scary Skeletons” stared to play. Tiffany cackled.

“This is fun,” I said as she moved us both through footwork that matched the beat. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“We should get together again sometime.”

“Next Halloween?”

“Next weekend?” she suggested, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Next weekend,” I agreed.

“It’s a date,” she said brightly. I beamed.

“It’s a date.”