100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #59. Romy.

 If my memory serves me correctly, it was May 1981.

Our friend, Leonard Ataman, was hosting a housewarming party in his two-story home off Kahala Avenue. The following morning was the Marathon, so people were already posting their beach chairs on their front lawns to chair on the passing runners. Leonard's house was filled with many friends and people we'd never met. This was the beginning of the 80s' so there was a lot of food, drinks, and drugs that changed your state of mind. I was my usual social butterfly self and wandered from room to room and space to space, speaking briefly to random people. Some were funny, some were huddled together, discussing deep social issues, while others said nothing while inhaling imported weed from Thailand. In one particular room that looked over the front yard was Raymond Jesus nursing a bottle of beer while talking to a young nurse who, by her speech, was very articulate, obviously cultured, worldly, and way out of Raymond's league. 

I needed a break from exploring Leonard's house, so I sat in the opposite corner. By the way, I forgot to mention that each room in the house, no matter how big or small, had a cooler filled with soda, beer, wine, and whiskey. I reached into the cooler next to me and opened a cold can of Coca-Cola. A plate of cold cuts, cheese, olives, and celery sat on the small table beside the cooler. I went straight for the salami and cheese. A great combination if there ever was one. In each room, speakers were hooked up to the leading record player in the living room and played music from the Wurlitzer jukebox in the living room. The girl's name was Romy, a travel nurse from Cucamonga. Through the speaker, Rod Stewart sang about the death of his friend Georgie. Romy vacillated between listening to what Raymond was saying and letting her body sway to the music. 

"So you get plans aftah dis or what?" Raymond applied his best Barry White voice on Romy, hoping it would comply her to follow him to one of Leonard's back rooms. It usually worked on the girls from the housing where he lived. 

"I'm sorry, what did you say? I can't understand you," she scrunched her face and put her hand to her ear. "I don't mean to be rude, but can you say that again?"

Raymond adjusted his posture and cleared his throat, "What are you doing after this?"

"Oh, I'm actually going on vacation soon to Istanbul," she replied honestly, having no idea what Raymond meant. "I'll be gone for a month. It's a well-deserved vacation; I've earned it."

"Oh, where is that?" Raymond asked.

"It's in Turkey," she replied.

"Turkey?" Now it was Raymond's turn to scrunch up his face. "Where is that?"

"In Europe," Romy said. "It's surrounded by other countries, but Istanbul is one of the cities that's a part of Turkey,"

"Like the bird?" Raymond asked.

"It's spelled differently, but not like the bird," Romy laughed.

At that moment, Raymond realized he was limited. Looking back, Raymond wasn't really out of her league. If Raymond had the same opportunities as Romy, he'd be articulate and worldly, too. However, it was 1980, and who had time to think about things like that? Raymond excused himself and left the room in a huff, taking his beer. "Did I say something wrong?" Romy asked.

"No," I assured her. "It's just Raymond; you caught him off guard. He'll be fine,"

"Should I go find him and apologize?" She asked.

"Sure," I replied. "Except, do you know why you're apologizing?"

"Well, I obviously said something to offend him; I should at least say I'm sorry," she said, pointing toward the door leading out to the hallway.

"He just needs to calm down, and he'll be fine," I said. "He'll be back."

"You're his friend, I take it?" She sat in the chair next to mine and began picking from the plate of cold cuts. "Can you pass me a coke and a whiskey, please?"

She poured the contents of both drinks into her cup and swirled it around a bit before taking a sip. "Ooo," she winced. "Yup, just like that."

"I heard what you were saying over there," I began. "Is this your first time going to Istanbul?"

"It's my first time vacationing like this, but no, it's not my first time," she explained. "My family is from there, so I'm gonna spend time with my parents and grandparents."

"Oh, that's cool," I nodded. It's great that you have a good connection with your family.

"What about your family?" It didn't seem like she was asking that question to make conversation.

"Not so much," I answered. "My parents adopted me, and I keep getting reminded of that fact."

"Well, that's not good," she laughed.

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Not at all,"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, but it's just how you said it. You know, like how a comedian says it? You know, it's the timing and the irony?" She tilted her head to one side, hoping I'd understand.

"No, I get it," I told her. "A lot of great comedians come from a place of personal pain and strife, so yeah. Suffering makes great comedy."

Little Richard came blaring out of the speakers, talking about Ms. Molly, who couldn't hear her Momma call. Romy took a drink from her cup and got up, where she started dancing, doing the twist. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of my chair. "C'mon," she clapped her hands together. "Don't let me do this by myself!"

I was twisting next to her before I knew it. We laughed uproariously until the next song came in over the first before it could finish. It was K.C. and his sunshine band wanting the love to keep coming. The two of us danced out of the room and down the hallway, where we saw everyone coming out of their bedrooms and dancing their way to the living room. The whole human content of the house filled the living room and the kitchen, dancing in collective bliss. Foxxy barged their way in from the Jukebox, wanting to Get Off. More dancing morphing from the twist to moving our bodies to the driving downbeat. As if there weren't enough funky debauchery, George Clinton threw down his flashlight, shining it on those who needed it. After three highly charged songs that raised the funk bar each time, there was a pause after George Clinton. A second later, JT Taylor promised always and forever. I sighed and laughed a bit before going back to the room for a cold drink, but Romy grabbed my hand, gently pulling me back. 

"Not so fast," she stepped forward and put her arms around me. "Last song, then we go get a drink."

Respectfully, I placed my hands around her hips but very lightly, not as a handrest. People around us were retiring to the bedrooms and other private spots on their own. That left Romy and me to slow dance all by ourselves. "I never asked how you know Leonard?"

"He's my brother," she smiled. 

"Oh wow," I pulled back. "Is he gonna be mad that we're dancing like this?"

"I'm a grown woman," she playfully placed her pointer finger on my chest. "I make my own decisions."

~

I returned to the room while Romy ducked into her bathroom to bathe quickly and change into fresh clothes. When she came out, she handed me a shirt and a pair of jeans. 

"These are Leonards, but he hasn't used them since he started dating that girl. She wants him dressed up nicely, no more jeans and casual shirts. I can't stand her."

While I went into Romy's bathroom to change, I could hear Peter Frampton singing about being in you and you being in him. When I came out, Romy had a paper bag for me to put my clothes in, which I thanked her for. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Romy," I said. "Take care, and I hope to see you again soon."

She seemed surprised. "Oh, I thought we would hang out and listen to music? Unless you really have to leave because you have to get up early for work or something?"

"I don't really, but I didn't want to impose on your time," I laughed. "No, sit down. I like our conversation. You're easy to talk to; I like that."

"I like this next one," Romy said, indicating the song that was coming up next. "Lines on My Face " didn't get much play, but it's one of his better songs. I put all those records in that jukebox, you know?"

"You did?"

"I had to," she nodded. "Leonard has horrible taste in music; he likes all that stuff from the 40s'"

That's how it was for the rest of the night: easy conversations that went from wild laughter to deep discussions about philosophy, favorite writers, and foods. Of course, when it came to food, we went downstairs to the kitchen, where Romy whipped up the best mushroom cheddar cheese I'd ever had. We washed it down nicely with a large cup of guava juice. We finally fell asleep around 9:30 am and didn't get up until five. I was on the chair, and she was on her bed, which gave Leonard immense relief seeing that I hadn't taken advantage of his friendship. In the following weeks leading up to her vacation, Romy and I spent much time together just hanging out when we weren't working or doing other things. There was a day when she insisted on hanging out at my house, but I didn't want her to. 

"I'm ashamed," I told her.

"Why?" She asked.

"It's a duplex down the end of a dirt road. It used to be houses for those working on the watercress farm. It's just me and my dad now, but he's been weird since my mom died, so I don't want to subject you to that," I explained. "That's why."

Miracle of miracles, Romy understood. However, as fate would have it, we were returning from the beach on the north shore, and she had to use the bathroom badly. We'd already passed Waipio, so I had no choice but to let her use the facilities at my house. I walked her in and kept making excuses for the house's appearance. Waiting patiently in the living room, I prayed that my dad would stay in his room and not come out. When she finally came out, so did my dad. She greeted him graciously and introduced herself. 

"I'm Daniel," he said. "I'm his father," he pointed to me.

"I didn't mean to intrude," Romy said. "But I really had to go to the bathroom. Thank you for allowing me to do so,"

"No, no," he said. "Don't worry, you can come anytime you want if you don't mind a home occupied by two men like us,"

Who the hell is this graciously kind guy in my dad's body?

~

"You shouldn't feel bad," Romy insisted. "You have a nice place; I actually kinda like it."

"What? Not you too? Now you're weird like my dad!" I screeched.

"Everyone has problems; it doesn't make them more or less human," Romy began. "Whatever is going on between the two of you hasn't affected your father to the point where he's lost his humanity."

"I understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore," I choked up. "It's really embarrassing, so I get it."

"I'm still your friend, stupid," she rubbed my shoulder. "In parts of Turkey, some families don't have a home and live on the streets. People like them would do anything to live in a house like yours. Be grateful because it could be worse."

That's when I knew I'd met a genuine human being who cared more for others than herself. This made Romy's departure for her month's vacation very hard. There was no reason to be sad because Romy said she'd return to Hawaii after, but something about it felt final. At the airport, she told me, "I've got some money saved up and I'll pay for way to Istanbul. You can meet my folks, and it would be fun to show somebody around town, but you have to pay me back; how's that sound?"

I was all for it, but after waiting some time, Romy never sent the tickets. I didn't want to pester Leonard, but I went to his house to see if he knew anything. His new girlfriend made me wait outside while she vacuumed the house, top and bottom. "Leonard, Romy, she was going to send for me to join her in Istanbul, but I never heard back," I said. Do you know what happened?"

"I thought she told you already, so I never said anything. She was offered a job in El Salvador, where she helped other nurses at a church run by American Missionary nurses. Right then, Leonard's phone rang in the kitchen. He excused himself to answer it, and when he came back, he handed the phone to me. "It's Romy."

"Hey there," I smiled even though she couldn't see it. "Leonard tells me there's some stuff going on with you?"

"It happened so fast, Bubs, and I had to move and fly out the moment I got the call," Romy said. "I was gonna call you after I spoke to my brother. But since I have you on the phone, would you mind caring for my car?"

"Yeah, of course, but what's this thing in El Salvador?" I asked.

"Helping missionaries with their flock mainly. A lot of people are getting affected by the civil war, so they are in sore need of nurses, and I want to go because I know I can make a difference," she explained. 

"I get it, I do," I replied.

"I'm glad to hear that," she sounded relieved. "It's only for a month, and a new group of nurses come in, so I'll be back in no time. Listen, I want to tell you something,"

"No," I cut her off. "Tell me when you get back."

"Ok," she said. "Love you, Bubs,"

"Love you, Roams," I returned the phone to Leonard.

~

Those of us who loved Romy and cared about her never heard back from her after that. During that time in the 80s,' there were news reports about American Missionary nuns, nurses, and a female photographer being killed in El Salvador by the El Salvador National Guard. In 1981, one hundred and eighteen civilians were killed in a massacre in El Mozote by the Salvadorian Army for selling supplies to the guerillas. More of those incidents were never made public. More than anyone cared for. Could Romy have been involved in one of those incidents whether publically known or not? 

I saw her in town today while ducking into a Starbucks for a fruit drink. She was coming out with a cheeseburger and fries in one hand and a soda in the other. I'd forgotten that Bubby's Burger used to be there before it was even a Starbucks. Romy and I went there so often that I got the nickname "Bubs" from her.

"Romy!" I called her name without thinking about the situation.

She turned and looked at me, "I bet we can still find a good spot at the beach!"

Romy ran to her Corvair parked on the corner. As she got in, the vehicle faded away with her in it, and it was 2024 again. All those years ago, Raymond was out of Romy's league at Leonard's old house in Kahala. However, getting to know Romy the way I did because of her internal call to a higher cause, no matter what it was, she was way out of anyone's league unless they were committed to a similar higher cause. This is why things between her and me never became romantic, even though we always held hands and hugged. Yes, there was love there, but there was also respect and trust. Someone like Romy comes around once in a lifetime. Hopefully, I'll run into her reincarnation sometime soon.