#spengler

“Why?” Egon asked, staring at you from behind his large glasses. 

“They’re obviously fans,” you said, turning back to look at the children as they raced up stoops to catch imaginary ghosts. “It’d be really cool for them to meet their hero.” 

Egon scoffed and you frowned at him. 

“What? Why’d you do that?” 

“You really think that I’m their hero? I bet they like Ray or Peter better. Even Winston. You know, the guys people actually know about? The ones they remember?” 

“People remember Peter because he’s loud and obnoxious,” you noted, grasping Egon’s hand in yours. “But I have no doubt people know who you are. You’ve been in practically every magazine and news article, and on every TV station. You’ve even been on the radio!” 

Egon shrugged and tried to pull you down the street away from the children. “Yeah, but I never really did those interviews. That was all Peter and sometimes Ray.” 

You watched Egon carefully, feeling his embarrassment and annoyance radiate out of him in cold waves. There was always one forgotten person in a group, and the Ghostbusters happened to have two: Egon and Winston. You’d tried several times to convince Egon that his invisibility was only in his own mind, and that most people actually did know about the quirky, awkward Ghostbuster who had saved the entire city (and on multiple occasions at that). 

You pulled free of Egon and swiveled around on your heels, seeing the kids start to take off down the sidewalk toward the corner. 

“Hey!” you shouted, waving an arm in the air. “Come back!” 

Both the children and Egon looked surprised. 

“You guys like the Ghostbusters, right?” you called after them and they exchanged looks. It was hard to tell if they were wary because you were a stranger, or if they were in disbelief that you didn’t immediately know they were Number One Fans. 

“Yeah,” said one of the boys cautiously. He had wily black curls and tortoise-shell glasses that were too big for his face. 

“Well, come here,” you said, waving them back. “You probably didn’t recognize him because he’s out of uniform, but this is Dr. Egon Spengler—”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before the children came hurtling back toward you and Egon, their vacuum hoses flapping wildly against their backpacks. They were on you in an instant, chattering excitedly and staring up in wonder at Egon, whose face had turned the same color as his sweater. 

“Mr. Spengler, I—” one kid started. 

“It’s Doctor,” another corrected sharply, elbowing the boy in the ribs. 

“How do the proton packs really work?” 

“What’s the scariest ghost you ever saw?” 

“Everyone says Dr. Venkman is the leader of the group, but I think you are.” 

“Dr. Spengler, I got new glasses to look like yours. Do you like them?” 

“Could you take us with you on your next ghost hunt?” 

“My mom says our apartment is haunted. Will you come see?” 

Egon was overwhelmed but clearly flattered. He cleared his throat and held up one hand, silencing the crowd almost instantly. A pleased smile crossed his face. 

“I can only answer one question at a time. You’ll have to take turns, so raise your hand if you have a question.” 

Every hand shot up. Some of the children held up both hands. Egon paused for a moment to think it through and then nodded to one of the stoops where curled leaves had gathered on the steps. 

“Let’s take a seat. I have a feeling we’ll be here for a while.” He sat on one of the middle steps and the children crowded around him like water filling every empty crevice. They stared up at him with wonder and admiration, every hand still up. He pointed to a little girl with pigtails. 

“Dr. Spengler,” she began with an even, patient voice, “how exactly does all this ghost stuff work? Like the ectoplasm and stuff? I tried to ask my grandpa but he thinks it’s still just a bunch of hooey.” 

“A lot of people do,” Egon said with a serious nod. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It can be hard to explain, but …” He looked around the stoop and found an uncarved pumpkin, about the size and color of a basketball. He pulled it into his lap. “Imagine this is the world we currently live in. All of our apartments and businesses and cars …” 

You leaned against the stair railing and watched him, smiling to yourself. The longer he talked, the more animated he became, and the more excited the children got. Within a few minutes, he was positively beaming.