Andi Cumbo-Floyd - Charlotte and the Twelve

I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.

Maya Angelou

W hen my eyes flashed open from a blink, I was no longer staring at the snow falling outside our front door. Instead, I was inside a sagging building with huge windows. The snow was still falling, but now it didnt matter if we had school or not. Now, I had to figure out what adventure the universe, God, a ghost, whoever had taken me on. I never could quite explain what had happened the last time Id mysteriously appeared somewhere, and so why would I be able to do it now.

Heres what I know:

If its happened once, it can happen again.

People say that kind of stuff about bad boyfriends and shoplifters, but its true of the good stuff, too... like, say, the way a girl might get transported, teleported, reassembled in a place that she hadnt been a second before.

Ah, but Im being cryptic. I wonder where that expression came fromcryptic as intentionally vague... does it come from crypt, like a grave? If so, is my experience with graves going to haunt my language forever now?

Also, sorry for the haunting pun. My ghost experiences have shaped me, I guess.

So here I was in a big roomIm terrible with sizes, but lets say the size of a Tastee Freez dining roomand there were two huge windows in front of me. Even on this early January morning, I could see well within the room because of these windows.

I stood still a while to get my bearings AND because I wasnt sure I wouldnt fall through the floor if I took a step. The prime days of this room were long gone, and I could see over in the corner that water had made its way down the walls for a long while now.

Kitty-corner to the water stain, I saw a big jumble of wood and metal that looked kind of like those old desks Ive seen in the big houses around here, the ones that are used as decorations in a front hall. I eased my way over, testing every step as I went. It was winter, so I knew I didnt have to worry about snakes if I put my foot through the floor, but I didnt really want to have shards of wood piercing my teddy bear PJ pants.

As I got closer, I found that these were, indeed, desks. Old desks. Dusty for sure, but also filmed with the grime of years and use. I bent low and put my hand against the seat back in front of me to steady myself as I got a closer look.

Thats when I saw her.

My last experience with a ghost had been wonderful and not at all scary. But still, having the figure of a young girl in a white dress appear right by your sidethatll take out anyones breath.

I jumped back and stared. Yep, there she wasa tiny slip of a girlprobably about six, with a halo of brown hair framing a thin face that ended in a softly-pointed chin.

She looked absolutely terrified.

I knelt down a couple of feet in front of her and said, My names Mary. Whats your name?

She stared at me with her wide, soft eyes for a minute longer. Henrietta Lovely Jones. Her voice was almost a whisper. It sounded like a kittens mew.

Its nice to meet you, Henrietta Lovely Jones. Do you live around here? Now, in the past couple of months, I had done some reading about ghosts, and Henrietta Lovely Jones was definitely a ghost. When you can see a person and also see through them, its a pretty clear sign.

The tiny girl began to cry, and so I moved closer and sat down. Oh, sweetie, what is it? Sit down here with me and tell me about it.

January in the Virginia mountains is cold, and I was wearing a t-shirt I caught at a UVA basketball game about three years ago and those cotton teddy bear PJs I mentioned. Henrietta was in this white dress with fine lace around the collars and sleeves, and her arms and legs were unclothed; and while I had on sheepskin slippersa gift from Mom this past Christmasher feet were bare. Yet, I was shivering like the dickens, and she seemed to give off that perfect gentle heat that children do. I wanted to hold heras comfort for her and warmth for me.

Henrietta plopped down on the wide, wooden planks beside me and leaned her shoulder against mine. She wasnt actually warm, but the gesture was sweet anyway. I glanced down at the space where my pinkish, white skin met her golden brown elbow and leaned in.

I live here, I guess, she said. But I used to live just up the road a ways. I havent been able to go home for a long, long time. Her face broke open with the sorrow only a child has not yet learned to hide. She wailed long, shuddering sobs that wound around my heart and squeezed.

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her into my lap. Oh, Miss Henrietta, Im so sorry. Im so sorry. Maybe I can help?

This quieted her a bit, and she looked up into my face with eyes so wide I thought Id be able to see the moon behind them.

Are you here by yourself? I said quietly.

She shook her head over and over again.

Okay, who is here with you? I wasnt scared of ghosts, but the idea of a group of them made my voice a little shaky.

All us kids is still here. Miss Braxton is here, too.

I looked around, but I didnt see anyone... not yet. I set Henrietta on the ground so I could stand, then scooped her against my hip. She weighed little more than a gallon of milk.

I walked over and placed my hands on every desk in that little pile. As I watched, a dozen childrengirls in simple calico dresses and boys in cotton pants and shirts with buttons appeared around me, each of their faces turned toward mine with wonder and fear.

Then, I saw her, a regal woman in a blue-flowered dress. She was at the back of the room, and she didnt look happy to see me.

I smiled because thats what I do when Im nervous or scared or unsure. I smile... not a bright, wide-open at the eyes smile, but that one thats tight in the corners of my mouth, like that emoji with the clenched teeth. I mean to appear harmless, but I fear I may look more like Ive just had some pretty awful dental work.

The woman did not smile back.