Talk To Me

Chapter seven

Present

Emma walked off, leaving Oliver alone near the restaurant door. He put his palm on his stomach as an eerie feeling hit him. He stood watching the woman stepping away. As Emma reached the movie theater next door, Oliver noticed a glimmer beside her. He squinted his eyes hard, trying to make out a figure. It held a tall, lean man in his sixties.

Oliver buried his finger deep in his curls. "Shit," he shouted, not loud enough for anyone else to hear him.

"Who is the babe?" Mark stopped his car beside the path walk, lowering the car window.

Oliver slightly jumped at the sudden sound. "Shit Mark, you scared me." He put his palm on his chest, looking at his friend intensely.

"Seriously. I scared you?" He lifted his eyebrow as a slight laugh left his throat. "Hop in, I will take you home."

Oliver got into the passenger's seat. "I thought you said, my car will be ready by tonight."

The car felt warm just as a slight breeze came from the driver's window until Mark fully closed it. Silent music played on the radio. The smell of the vehicle felt very familiar to Oliver, cigarettes mixed with "Febreze". Oliver put on his seat belt and looked at Emma's silhouette one more time.

"You have a shitty car, man," Mark said, driving toward Oliver's house. "You should buy a new one. Don't duck the question, though." He smiled wickedly. "Who is the girl?"

"Emma, she is the waitress from the restaurant." Oliver glanced at his friend.

"And?" Mark bent his head, staring at the road through the windshield.

"And nothing." Oliver shrugged.

"I feel the tension coming from you, brother." Mark gave a side-eye to his friend. Oliver bent his head slightly, shaking it. "Fine. I will come by tomorrow and maybe ask her out. She looks cute."

"No, Mark." Oliver's eyes widened.

"Well then, spill," Mark said, turning off the radio in the car. "I saw you two talking, you know." Mark raised his eyebrow. "Seemed cozy."

"I think her father followed her," Oliver blurted out, rubbing the back of his neck. "She mentioned he died a few years ago."

"That's just creepy," Mark said. Oliver knitted his eyebrow, staring at him. "Wait, is that mean? You got it back, you know your gift?" He motioned with his hand.

"Yeah." Oliver bent his head.

"When?" Mark furrowed his forehead.

"Last night." Oliver lifted his eyebrows.

"And you didn't tell me this morning, why?" He glanced at Oliver. "Did you see her?"

"Not yet. But I have a guess why. Ann told me you have to stay very focused to appear in certain places."

"That's going to be a problem." Mark bent his head lightly. "Wait, who is Ann?"

"My landlord's mother. She was the first ghost I noticed."

Mark connected his eyebrows. "You mean the town slut?"

"You and your nicknames, but yeah, I guess," Oliver remembered all that Ann told him. "How do you know about Ann?" Oliver peeped at his friend.

"Remember, my parent's divorce?" Mark tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Not really, we were like five years old." Oliver shook his head.

"Seven, actually. So that's the woman," Mark said, glancing at the passenger's seat.

"No fucking way." Oliver smiled wickedly. "This is a small town." He rubbed his palms together.