Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Feb 12, 2022

Love 2022

Donna saw me hovering around and manifesting.

I moved objects, and I called out to her through the dissonance as best as I could. Finally, I came to her in her dreams to let her know that it was me, but she was too caught up in the drudgery of her everyday life, and so my message was muddled. So, she feared me instead rather than knowing that I loved her and I was with her. I was so heartbroken that I balled myself up into a bit of sphere of energy and hid in the corner of a shelf above our sink. Some snot-nosed teenage wanna-be paranormal investigator found me and tried to extricate me with a smudge stick. I lashed back and sent a teacup flying directly at his forehead. It left a nice little knot right below his hairline where everyone could see it. Jerk.

When things settled down, it finally hit me. Donna really didn't understand, and because of that, she was actively trying to get rid of me. I heard her mention the words attachment and demon to the paranormal investigator. Those words were about me; that's what I was to her now. I sat at our kitchen table and cried. I'm not sure how long I must have been there; it must have been some length of time because a Catholic priest showed up, but not just any Catholic priest. It was our Catholic priest. The one who performed our wedding ceremony, Father Angeles. I was so relieved to see him that I got up and ran to him and gave him a big hug. He cried out in pain and recoiled from my embrace. Now, he was screaming and yelling at Donna to back away while he began to mutter in Latin. My God, he was performing the rites of exorcism on me, casting holy water at me while he made Donna and himself take the blessed sacrament. Donna! What the fuck is wrong with you! It's me! It's Sidney, your fucking husband! 

"There! Do you hear the demon Donna?" Father Angeles bellowed. "Do you hear its vile, filthy words that it hurls at us? But, pray Donna, only prayers to God can help us now!"

Geezus, is he serious? It's me, Sidney Wong! I knew it, I knew Father Angeles was a drama queen, damn him! Look at him and his affectation! No wonder his sermons were like watching a one-man Shakespearian play. Fuck you, Father Angeles.

"It's swearing at me, Donna!" He bellowed and swooned in such a grandiose way; it was like watching Ed Kenney singing Beyond The Reef at the old Hawai'i Theater. I have to get out of here.  


The most I can do these days is keep silent and watch as Donna swipes through her phone, looking at old photographs of our previous life together. Finally, she cries and tells herself how much she misses me and that if I were around, I should give her a sign. "I have Donna," I tell her. "I've given you so many signs, but you keep misinterpreting them as evil. I don't know what to do anymore, so I just stopped."

That's about when she cries herself to sleep. After that, all I can do is watch and wait. I watch her age as the days go on. She has friends along the way, relationships that don't amount to anything serious, but by herself, late at night, she goes through the old pictures. Then, one night she did something unexpected. She went into her closet, got out her old wedding gown, and tried it on. "It still fits," she whispered to herself. Then she said, "Hun, please come and tell me that you love me? Hun, please?" She lay back on our bed and waited until she finally closed her eyes. 

Our bedroom door opened and in walked Father Angeles. "I'm here, Donna."

"I knew you were out there," she smiled.

I couldn't watch as the two fell into each other's arms and Father Angeles began to take off Donna's old wedding gown. I couldn't, so I went up to the attic and stayed there for a while. When I decided it was time to come down, the house was old and dusty, like no one had been in it for a long time. That's when I saw Donna sitting in front of her bureau, looking into her mirror, crying.

"Donna?" I spoke her name without thinking of how it might come across as demonic to her. She turned around, and her arms went up into the air, and she fell into my arms.

"Sidney! Sidney! Sidney!" She cried. "I've been here for so long, and I've been so lonely; when did you get here?"

"I've always been here," I replied.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She wondered.

"I have, for ages, but when you were alive," I said evenly, "you always thought that I was an attachment or a demon."

"That was you?" She was dumbfounded. "That was you all that time?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm gonna go before Father Angeles shows up."

She began to say something when she realized the depth of what I had just told her, "I know he's been coming in and out of our home for a while. It's really become more his house than mine, so what's the point, you know?"

"Sid, let me explain," she pleaded.

"No need to explain," I assured her. "I was gone, you were lonely, and Father Angeles convinced you that I was a demon. I mean, what else were you supposed to do, right?" I left her then, I popped out and left and went to the light. Father Angeles never came for her; he couldn't. He'd broken his priestly vows, so imagine he must have gone to a place where you repeat the same action over and over again, knowing that the result will always be the same. I wonder what that is? My Donna, she's in our old house, living with the fact that I was there the whole time and that at each moment when I tried to make myself known to her, she cast me out. Not much I can do for her from the light; she'll just have to pay her penance.

Photo Credit: Wedding Flare.

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