“You don’t believe in ghosts?”

“Why, that’s preposterous!” I said with a smile.

“Oh? Why on earth not?” He said with a hint of sarcasm.

“I don’t know. I guess because I never have. Why would I? I’m just a person who simply loves life and doesn’t believe in death. What does your grandmother have to do with ghosts?”

“Well.… she could explain.” He said.

“How long have you been at this business?” I ask.

“I’ve been investigating for about ten years.”

“Well then you must be an expert on something that doesn’t exist?” I ask.

“I just know how to handle myself. That’s all.”

“I see.” I say.

I study him for a moment. He is in his 20’s, dressed immaculately with a handsome face, good body. I am only in my mid-40’s but still I feel youthful. I like to look good when I go out, like to stand out. It’s kind of my thing. I think I must have been a poor child, because I always want to be dressed the best. I’ve always had pleasure in clothes.

“Do you?” I ask.

“What?” He asks.

“Know how to handle yourself?” I ask.

“Well I—”

I laugh out loud.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but didn’t you just come in here and attempt to scare me?” I ask.

He looks stunned, and then laughs in a confident way.

“I guess I did.”

“Thought so. I’m very sorry. I’ve just had some bad experiences with people like you. I’ve spent most of my life alone, and out of nowhere, spiritual exorcists come to my door. So, you see, I’m just a bit tone deaf to that kind of thing.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Now, how about you tell me why you are really here.” I say.

He laughs.

“I like your sense of humor. I think we’re going to get along. You’re funny.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was asked.”

“Asked? By whom?” I ask.

“By the grandmother you see here.” He says and points forth.

I look over at the old lady sitting in a rocking chair on the porch. She looks up at me with her beautiful blue eyes.

“Oh, I see.” I say and glance at him. He looks at me with amusement, some sort of understanding. It’s sexy.

“Is this your grandmother?” I ask indicating her.

“Yeah.” He says.

I sit in the chair next to her. There is something very sad about her. It sounds like she is sad. I’m sad, but I’m sad about happy things. She is sad about sad things. She looks up at me again, but this time there’s a sadness, despair. It’s an awful sensation.

“Why are you sad, grandma?” I ask.

She laughs at the question.

“What! Why should I be sad? I just want to be left alone. Why is that so hard to understand?” She asks in a strange tone, confused.

“Don’t you want to tell your grandson something?” I ask.

“You’re not, my grandson.” She says.

“Oh, so you know who he is?” I say, surprised.

“Of course I do. I’m his grandmother.” She says.

“Grandmother, please tell me about what happened when you were younger. Who did you love a long time ago?” I ask.

She is silent for a moment, looking at something she can’t see.

“Oh. He’s one of my best friends.” She says.

“You loved him?” I ask.

“I don’t know. He’s one of my best friends.” She says with a sense of deep confusion.

“Why?” I ask.

“Why? Why what?” She asks.

I lean back slightly so I can see her face. I find her expression mysterious.

“Do you know?” I ask.

“Yes, I love him.” She says.

“What happened?” I ask.

“It was something silly.” She says.

“Were you both sorry?” I ask.

“Of course I was!” She says and laughs.

I have a feeling that there’s more.

“Why didn’t you ask me to come see you? Why did you wait 15 years?”

“I don’t know.” She says.

“Why do you think he doesn’t want to see you?” I ask.

“I don’t know. He’s my friend.” She says and laughs again.

“Feelings are confusing sometimes.” She says.

“Is that what’s happening to you?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I’m just confused.” She says.

She looks up at me again. There is emotion but I am not sure what it is.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” She says.

“No, not at all. I just like to try to figure out what is cross current.” I say.

“Oh. I guess I’m trying to chase him, but I think he doesn’t want me to. It’s not that I don’t want to.” She says.

“What is it that you want to chase?” I ask.

She laughs again.

“Why do you think I want to chase him?” She asks.

“I see.” I say.

I feel something strange in me. It’s confusing, too. I scratch my head for a moment.

“What do you think about us, or about me?” I ask.

“You’re a nut.” She says.

I don’t let it bother me.

“Right.” I say.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I think you’re very interesting.” She says.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Why do you think I’m a nut?” I ask.

“You aren’t normal.”

“How so?” I ask.

“I don’t know. You talk to me. You’re so different from the others.” She says.

“I’m the first woman talking to you?” I ask.

“Yes, of course. How many men have come and talked to me?” She asks.

“All right.” I say and lean back.

“Hey! Tell me!” She says.

“Tell you what?” I ask.

“What do you mean ‘what.’ What is it that you want from me?” She asks.

“I want you to tell me about what happened.” I say.

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[image s](https://i.natgeofe.com/n/502f8d6f-9394-4cd1-a134-c648a0fdc22a/71416-cb1378495631_4x3.jpg)