Texting the Dead
by Michael C.
Keith
There’s
a ghost in the new machine.
–– Tracy Kidder
Martha Lambert was
devastated by the death of her husband of thirty-five
years. For weeks she would not leave the house,
and then suddenly her children noticed a
remarkable change in her mood. She was bright and
cheery and seemed almost like her old self.
“What’s up, Mom?
You seem so much . . .?” asked Martha’s
youngest child, Carol.
“Better?”
answered Martha.
“Yeah, I’d say,”
said Carol’s older brother, Jonathan.
“Well, I feel much
better, kids.”
“Ah . . . why? I mean
just yesterday you were so . . . “
“Miserable, Carol? Yes,
I was, but then something changed that, and I’m
really feeling . . . well, less depressed and
lonely.”
“It’s so
wonderful to see you like this. Mom. We were so
worried about you. What happened to . . .?”
“A message,” said
Martha, smiling.
“Message? Who from?”
asked Carol.
“Well, maybe you two
better sit down.”
Jonathan and Carol
did as their mother suggested, taking a seat on
the couch
“What’s
going on, Mom? This all sounds so mysterious.”
“Your father . .
. I got a text from your father,”
said Martha, her eyes welling up with tears of
joy.
“Huh? A text?
Mom, are you all right? Maybe we should take you
to see the doctor.”
“You’ve
been under a lot of stress since dad died. It can
cause you to imagine things,” added Jonathan,
looking at his mother with growing concern.
“I’m not
going crazy, kids. I’m getting texts
from your father,” protested Martha.
“Look . . . get
your coat, Mom. We’ll take you to see
someone to make sure nothing . . .”
“Yes, let’s
go right now. Maybe you’ve had a mini-stroke,”
appealed Jonathan.
”I’m not
having hallucinations, for Heaven’s sake!
Your father really did send me a . . .”
“C’mon, Mom.
We’ll get you checked out,” said Carol,
fetching her mother’s coat from the hall
closet.
Suddenly Martha’s
cellphone began pinging and she looked at its
screen.
“There, you two.
See!” said Martha, smiling and holding
her phone up for her children to see.
Their expressions
instantly changed to one of incredulity as they
read the text.
“Mind your
own damn business, Dad!”
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