Poltergeist and Me

As I look back and open the memory box in my mind, I recall a Halloween night in the mid 1980’s. My boys were grown (in their late teens) and rather than go “Trick-or-Treating”, they opted to go to the local park and watch the little kids’ Halloween parade. They brought bags of candy to dole out as they also reminisced about when they were younger and walked in the parade.

Through the years while my kids were growing, my friend Anne and I had gotten into the habit of weekly family dinners. We were both divorced and our children were still little – just pre-teen little. We kept this weekly ritual even after our children were teens and no longer wanted to spend every second with their moms. We’d have dinner, and they’d leave before dessert. Anne and I would laugh as we called them “typical teens”.

Anne and I became best friends while we were married and comforted each other through our divorces. Each week when we'd get together for dinner, we took turns cooking and visiting each other’s houses. Once when it was my time to cook, Anne arrived with her son and daughter, and we all enjoyed my mom’s recipe of homemade baked ziti.

That night, after our meal, as I brewed a pot of coffee, the kids said their “See ya, later” comments and left. Anne and I shook our heads and smiled our usual, “There they go” smiles.

Then it happened. I don’t know why it took so long but for whatever reason, I knew that was going to be the night my secret was revealed. I anticipated something coming; I just didn't know what or when. I looked at my dog and saw the hairs on her back begin to rise.

I never told anyone, not even Anne fearing they'd think I was losing my mind. Now, there would be a witness. My secret was out. How could I possibly explain the situation without losing my best friend? I wondered if any friendship could survive this kind of secret.

Anne brought a delicious cake for dessert, and I placed it on the table with the hot carafe of coffee.

As we sat and talked after dinner, I noticed Anne's half-filled cup of coffee slowly move towards the edge of the table. I didn’t say anything, wondering if she noticed what I saw. She did and became very quiet as she sat completely still and stared at the cup not quite believing what she was seeing.

When the cup reached the edge of the table, even slower than before it slid off the edge, stayed verticle, and gently lowered itself to the floor - never spilling one drop of coffee! It was as if it had been guided and yet, if I had tried to do that, there would be drops of coffee splattered everywhere.

Anne inched her chair away from the table and almost jumped out of her seat when her cup reversed its movement and gently sat back on the table. She decided she wasn’t far enough away from whatever just happened. She backed away even further as the dog began to growl. She stood and walked behind the chair tightly gripping its back. Her face was pale, almost white with fear. The wild look in her eyes was a mix of fear and confusion. She opened her mouth to speak but at first no words were spoken.

Trying to take control of the situation, I tried to explain that this sort of activity happened frequently but rarely in front of visitors, adding that other similar events also happened. I told her about the dish cupboard doors rattling; faucets turning on and off on their own; the dog refusing to go down the basement stairs and frequently sat at the basement door, growling while showing her teeth.

These things and more are events I’d already gotten used to seeing. They didn’t bother me and no longer frightened me or my sons. I just accepted them. I shrugged and tried to make light of the situation as if all these things were completely normal. They weren’t but I didn’t want to frighten my friend any more than she already was.

I said, “What can I say? My poltergeist wants to welcome you into the family.” My smile was weak, but I tried.

Anne said that she found the situation bizarre and difficult to accept as she walked out of the kitchen backwards and vowed to never step one foot inside my house again.

Although we stayed friends for the next ten years, she kept her vow. As for our weekly dinners? When it was my turn to cook, I’d prepare the meal and bring it to her house. She was much too traumatized to come back to my home.

Five years later, she was able to acquire a promotion in her job which required a move to another state. With her company paying for the transfers of all willing employees, she knew it was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.

While Anne and I stayed friends with letters and phone calls (there was no internet connection yet, nor were there cellphones available to the general public) she never once mentioned the incident again. She would on occasion ask, “So, how are you doing? Any major problems you want to talk about?” I knew she didn’t want to hear about my poltergeist, so I always answered that we were fine. We’d talk about our children and their adventures. We’d tell each other about our jobs and any new promotions we had. And yes, we’d talk about the weather.

However, we did not talk about what happened the night my poltergeist came to visit. Neither did I ever mention the fact that he decided to bring a few friends to take up residence in my home.

About fifteen years later, I met someone (a widower) whom I began dating. Not quite a year later, we talked about marriage. He insisted to “spruce up” my home since we agreed that his home was in a better neighborhood, so I should move my family in with his.

One night as he was whitewashing the walls of my basement, he quickly but quietly put his paintbrush in a plastic bag, sealed the paint can and said, “Let’s get out of here and go to dinner.”

It took him one year later to tell me that his hurried exit was sparked by a shadow that walked behind me, stopped, turned, and looked directly at him before moving on.

He was so unnerved; he silently swore to never go in the basement at night or alone again. He hurried to finish the basement and, well, he never set one foot on the stairs and insisted I bring my laundry to his house to wash and dry. Naturally, I refused that and continued to live with my shadow friends until I married and moved out.