(E 79th St and York Ave – Photos by Joe)
Nearly a week passed before I found time to return to the “house on the river’s edge.” The demolition company where I work had previously gotten a call for an estimate to cart away junk from that home. In part it had been a trick by a boy named James. He wanted my help with a ghost that terrorizes his little sister. On that initial visit James’ mother had taken my business card, seemingly unaware of her son’s plan or the ghost, and said her husband would get in touch with me.
Given the guilt the boy had managed to lay on me, I should have gone back that first night. Maybe there would have been a way to lure the ghost or whatever it was, into the street.
In the time since, the husband has not called for a proper estimate, while James, who had first contacted me via email, doesn’t return my emails. Plus I’ve called their number, but it just rings and rings.
(E 78th St by York Ave)
As I remembered, the home was at the end of E 51 St, just south of the Queensboro/59th St. Bridge. In the last post, I didn’t identify the street number or mention that it intersected Sutton Place. That was in order to maintain privacy for the homeowners.
Upon my return, I was vexed when I didn’t find the home on E 51 St. So I proceeded to walk up and down Sutton Place, and look for it on all the dead ends streets which intersect Sutton. Then I headed up past the Queensboro, and did the same on York Avenue.
My boss had received the original call for the estimate. When I called and asked him if he remembered the address, all he had said was, “You f–king went ‘dare.”
Yeah, but where . . . It’s like I lost my car in a parking lot, and I can’t even find the lot. I spent over two hours searching up and down Sutton and York, before I figured either the house was never there or???
The latter two pictures from the previous post were taken when I went on the estimate. They are proof I was in the right place. Though interestingly, the area populated mostly by apartment buildings and stately homes, nothing I saw resembled the more modest, suburban-type dwelling I had originally visited.
(Church of the Epiphany on York Ave)
I keep thinking about things James said in his emails. In one he had cryptically stated, “You have a friend here. He’s been here since the beginning,” while another mentioned that I would know the house but didn’t elaborate.
Then there is the little girl. I think I heard the mother call her Lara. I know what it’s like to be tormented by the supernatural. For an innocent, it could only be much worse.
My lady friend is upset that I didn’t speak up sooner. She thinks there is a chance Lara is being abused.
Today is the rare Saturday that I’m off from work. So my lady friend and I along with the pizza and Chinese delivery guys are going to see if we can find Benny, ‘the cigar store Indian.’ I’m hoping he can set me on the right path.
(PS158 on E 78th St and York Ave)
Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Thirty-Four