Page 27 of The Accidental Ghost

Ralph’s mouth fell open, unable to process any more paranormal oddities. Not today. “Thanks for the distinction.” She knew her words dripped sarcasm, but she felt petty and tired and very unlike herself.

Nina frowned at her. “Hey, don’t be such a rude shit. Rocky’s an amazing kid, and she might be able to help your transparent ass. You know, tips on how to cross your next soul?”

Closing her eyes because the room was beginning to spin, Ralph apologized. “I’m sorry, Marty. You’re right. I’m being incredibly thickheaded right now. Please, Shamus, go on.”

“The kind of people you’ll take to the afterlife are exceptional. They’re kind and selfless. Good, giving people.”

“Which is why Marty got a grim reaper, “Nina snarked on a cackle, to the tune of Marty flipping her off.

“So where was my psychopomp? If I earned this alleged honor, and I qualify to be a psychopomp as a result, why wasn’t I ushered in?”

Shamus sighed with a shake of his head. “That’s where the hitch in my giddy-up comes in. I can’t explain why no one has come to collect you, Ralph. I don’t know why no one has explained to you what’s happening. I’ve only met one or two of your kind, but they always had a guide to lead them into their duties.”

“But you’re sure she’s a fucking psycho whatever?” Nina asked.

“Psychopomp,” Wanda corrected with a sympathetic smile in Ralph’s direction. “Don’t be willfully obtuse, Vampire.”

Shamus gave Nina a playful nudge. “I’m sure. I’m more than sure. Someone should have retrieved Ralph and acquainted her with her new position. I don’t understand what’s gone wrong.”

“So why the fuck don’t you talk to your afterlife cronies and figure it out?”

Marty rolled her eyes, pulling her hair up into a knot of blonde cascades on the top of her head. “Because it’s not like the afterlife’s on social media, Nina. He can’t just send them a private message on Facebook and say, “Hey, whassup?’”

Nina gave Marty the finger. “Fuck off, Blondie. You know what I mean.”

“Marty’s right. I don’t have a direct line to the afterlife. They show up when they show up, and I can see them. That’s it. They’re actually a lot like toddlers in that respect. Unpredictable, difficult, evasive.”

Ralph swallowed, bile in her throat rising up, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. “So I just stay like this—forever? I stay invisible, floating aimlessly with a stash of fairy dust so people can see me? With no guidance? No instruction?”

She leaned forward, looking for the silver lining her optimism always provided, but she had to admit, her glass-half-full attitude was poor at best.

Wanda tilted her head, her eyes warm. “You didn’t need much guidance with Gloria, Ralph. You knew exactly what to do. You were amazing. Maybe whoever’s in charge of psychopomps thinks you’re a shoe-in and you don’t need any guidance.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but if what Shamus says is true, and I’m supposed to guide the good people of the world to their destinies, what if someone’s destiny is death? How do I get to the afterlife to deliver the package? Do they have a map? Will the voice in my head guide me all the time, because it was getting a little impatient there for a minute.”

“The voice in your head?” Shamus asked. “What voice?”

She pointed to her head. “There was a voice, telling me what to do with Gloria. Isn’t there supposed to be a voice inside my head?”

“If there was a voice, then I’m sure it was supposed to be there, honey,” Wanda reassured her.

Panic was beginning to settle in, square in the pit of her stomach as her knees shook and her mind raced. “That’s a very Rose Nylund thing to say, Wanda, and normally I’d agree with you. But somehow, I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Nina snickered. “Rose, like from The Golden Girls, Rose?”

Ralph let her cheeks puff out. “Sorry. It’s a habit. I compare people’s personalities to The Golden Girls. I mean no disrespect, Wanda. I really love Rose.”

Nina tipped her head back and barked a laugh. “When I was getting up at all hours of the day to feed Charlie, I used to watch GG reruns. Loved those fucking broads, especially Sophia. Congrats, Ralph. No one’s ever nailed Wanda’s ‘yippy-skippy, it’s all gonna be fucking fine’ better. She def has Rose properties with shades of Dorothy.”

“Wait a minute. Nina’s definitely Sophia. Wanda’s Rose with shades of Dorothy…but who am I?” Marty asked.

In unison, everyone yelled, “Blanche!” Then they all began to laugh—even Marty.

Despite how miserable she felt, Ralph laughed, too. “Yep, you do remind me of Blanche. You’re flirty and fun, and you love fashion and jewelry.”

Marty batted her eyes and twirled a stray strand of blonde hair. “I do declare,” she said in an attempt at a southern accent.

That made them all laugh again.

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