Banish Me

Tell Me The History Of Your Family

We decided to go by the school on the way back. The school was technically closer but the apartment was more of a straight shot.

I found, as we drove into the parking lot, that the apartment wasn’t technically an apartment. It was a small condo in a building full of bigger, more expensive apartments and condos. Their Aunt’s home was on the top floor; technically it was the top floor. It’s not as big as it sounds, the building was in a pyramid shape, much like the one building in San Francisco.

The condo was modestly decorated. It had a feeling of antiqueness. All the furniture was well loved, with nicks and scratches. The only thing that looked out of place was the big screen TV that was mounted on the wall. I was starting to get the feeling that the Marks were a very humble family, something I hadn’t expected.

“So…what are we looking for exactly?” Gwen said looking around.

“Yearbooks and old photos,” I said, skimming the nearest bookcase.

I had a familiar feeling that was slowly creeping up my spin, like there was something familiar about my surroundings but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

There were dozens of bookcases, subjects ranging from current literature to how to work Windows 2010. Their Aunt was well read and, I could only imagine, extremely knowledgeable of the modern world.

But it was the last bookcase, the last shelf on the bottom that caught my attention. Several yearbooks lay horizontally covered in dust.

“I got it!” Gwen and I both yelled.

We were both in different parts of the condo and we ran to the living room with our finds. Peter was the only one who didn’t have anything to contribute.

“I found yearbooks!” I said.

“I found photo albums!” Gwen said.

We both looked at Peter, waiting for him to tell us what exactly he had found.

“I found an empty fridge and the TV was turned to Lifetime.”

“OoOo, I love Lifetime!” Gwen squealed.

Peter rolled his eyes and Gwen directed him to get the other albums she had found out of their Aunt’s bedroom.

“It’s the same yearbook,” Gwen commented on the top book in my stack.

“I know but I want to start with her freshman year.”

“Why?”

“There is something bugging me about the timeline. The young man was wearing a uniform from the Second World War.”

“And that is important because?”

I looked at Gwen and she shrugged. “Trust me, it’s important.”

I opened the yearbook and on the inside cover was your usual inscriptions from fellow classmates. I skipped it, my fingers doing the walking. I stopped at the dedication page and noticed that the yearbook staff and student body had dedicated that year’s book to a former classmate. A soldier. He had been killed in action.

Joseph P. Harris

1927-1945

The face was familiar.

“It’s him,” I said pointing at the picture.

“Him him? The second ghost?”

I nodded and pointed to another picture. “Look at the girl in this one picture.”

The dedication was a two page spread, filled with a collage of pictures. Several of them captured him while he played football and just everyday life. But there was one that was taken at a dance with a girl that looked an awful lot like their Aunt.