"Dad! There's a skeleton in the closet!" Billy frowned and poked at the jumble of bones hanging from the ceiling. The skeleton swayed a bit in a rather non-threatening fashion. Sighing, Billy pushed it out of the way and hung up his jacket.
Spencer Collins stepped out of the bathroom and grinned. "A skeleton, eh? I bet that was pretty scary!"
"As if. It's just some cheap plastic toy on a string."
"It probably made you jump, though," Spencer said as he ruffled his son's overgrown hair.
"Dad-"
"C'mon, tell the truth! I bet you got some air time when it popped out of the closet."
Billy rolled his eyes. "Please. They rigged the skeleton with a pulley so that it would fall down from the shelf whenever you open the door." He flopped down on the bed in a funk. "Lame."
"Are you sure?" Spencer went to the closet, closed the door, and opened it again. "Huh. Would you look at that."
"See? Lame!" Billy grabbed a pillow and screamed into it.
"Cut that out!" Spencer walked over to the bed and yanked the pillow away. "This is our first vacation together. All I ask is that you at least try to have fun, okay?"
"This place was supposed to be haunted, Dad."
"I know, kiddo." He sat down on the bed next to his son. "You know, the ghosts can't be 'on' all the time. They need a break once in a while."
"I guess. Still, a plastic skeleton?"
"It's a nice skeleton."
Billy shook his head. "Dad. It has twelve fingers and one hand."
"Maybe it has a genetic disorder." Spencer shrugged and put an arm around his son. What do you say we go downstairs and get something to eat?"
"I'm not hungry."
"You're always hungry." He opened the hotel's brochure and showed the page to Billy. "Besides, the restaurant is supposed to have a poltergeist."
__________
"Remember what I said about the skeleton, Dad?" Billy whispered across the table as he pointed to a chandelier that was supposedly moving on its own but was obviously moving by means of a string running the length of the ceiling and tied to a bell pull being yanked by a bored-looking busboy.
Spencer silenced him with a stern look, then turned back to the waitress. "And we'll start with the spinach-artichoke dip. Thanks!"
They handed the waitress their menus. When she was out of earshot, Billy opened his mouth to speak. His dad cut him off. "I don't want to hear it! That was rude. You understand?"
"But Dad-" Billy started to say.
"Stop. Just, stop." He put his hands to his temples and started to massage away the headache taking root there.
"I'm sorry, Dad," Billy said.
Spencer looked out the window. "At least we have a pretty view." He turned to his son and forced his lips into a smile. "So, what would you like to do after dinner? They have a small theater that shows Haunted Hotel on a loop. It was filmed here, you know."
"Yeah." Billy stared into his water glass and poked at the ice with his straw. "This is nothing like the Richardson Hotel. Mom and I went there for Halloween last year."
Spencer cleared his throat. "Oh, you did? Um, that sounds like fun."
"Yup. Every room has their own ghost. The ghost in our suite was so scary that I wet my pants three times." He smiled at the memory.
"Your mom always planned the best vacations, didn't she?"
Billy nodded. Tears threatened to roll down his cheeks. He crumpled up his napkin and ran it over his eyes.
The waitress arrived with their appetizer. Spencer thanked her and handed Billy a plate. They ate in silence.
After a few minutes, Spencer said, "You know, it's getting late. By the time we finish eating, well, why don't we just forget the movie?" When Billy didn't respond, he added, "Or, we could start watching the movie and see how long we last."
"Yeah, okay. I guess."
Spencer took another bite. "They say the movie's haunted."
"Of course it is." Billy sighed.
"Really," he said unconvincingly. "One of the stagehands died during filming. They say he pops up in a different scene every showing."
Billy shoved his plate away. "It's probably just some idiot with a slide projector in the projection booth."
Spencer started to speak, but couldn't find the right words. They certainly were hard to come by these past few months. He felt pretty stupid, thinking this trip would make things better. Instead of scolding his son yet again, he scooped up a dollop of dip with a celery stick and crammed the whole of it in his mouth.
"I'm kinda tired."
"So am I."
"So, um, how about we just go to the movie tomorrow?"
Spencer looked up in surprise. "Are you sure? You're probably right about the 'ghost'," he said, air quotes and all.
"Yeah, well, cheesy ghost effects can be fun, too." Billy gave his father a hesitant smile. His father's smile, however, was far from hesitant.
"Very true. Also, they probably won't make you wet your pants."
"But that was the best part!"
Right then, the waitress appeared. "So, how's everything? Are you ready for your entrees?"
"Just about. Can we have some more soda?"
"Of course!" She leaned in and lowered her voice. "What do you think of our ghosts so far?"
"Cheesy."
"Billy," his father warned.
"But they're still kind of neat," he admitted. "They're not real, are they?"
The waitress glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then whispered, "They're as real as you want them to be."
Billy chewed his lip in thought, then grinned. "In that case, they're the scariest ghosts I've ever seen," he said.
"You bet they are!" The waitress laughed. "Hey, look's like your dinners are here."
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome! You boys have a great time."
Father and son tucked into their food, awkward yet earnest attempts at conversation popping up between bites.
The waitress watched them for a while, then turned and walked through the kitchen door, leaving behind a faint, shimmering residue of ectoplasm.