Page 9 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

“No one special in my life. Plus, I’m living with my parents.” Sara was laughing again, but it sounded slightly maniacal. “Oh, and directing a geriatric play. Winning at life, that’s me.”

More laughter. Tinny and high-pitched.

Sara Murphy was a former high school it girl on the edge.

Feeling awkward, I said, truthfully, “I think it’s amazing you’re directing this show. My grandmother loves it. She’s been practicing her one whole line every day for a week.”

“It’s court ordered community service,” she said flatly.

Um…

“Sara!” a gravelly voice bellowed from near the stage. “Let’s go!”

Sara rolled her eyes. “George, the pianist. He’s full of himself.”

“I’ll let you go. Great to see you again, Sara.”

Lie.

Sara Murphy was scary now.

I was questioning if I should actually be leaving my grandmother alone with her.

“Can you believe our ten year reunion is this summer? Are you going?”

“I guess?” I posed it as a question because I had given zero thought to it. I was more preoccupied with sorting my life out.

“Why are the hot girls always crazy?” Ryan asked.

“Jesus!” I jumped. I shot him a look of annoyance.

“What?” Sara asked, bewildered. She took a step back away from me, like I was the one who was a little off.

I bent down and slapped at my ankle. “Something just bit me. Must have been a fly. Hey, do you know why the coroner’s van is outside?”

“Oh, I guess the janitor died. They found him in the supply closet. Heart attack or something, I don’t know. I never met him.”

With that, she turned and strolled away, a sway in her hips that I had never mastered.

“I guess if she didn’t meet him, he doesn’t matter,” I mused to Ryan.

“She’s exactly my type,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Sexy and crazy. That woman has restraining order written all over her. Too bad I’m dead or I’d totally go for it.”

He wasn’t even lying. Alive, Ryan had stumbled from one hapless dating disaster to the next. If a woman was fragile orviolent, he was right there buying her a drink. It was a terrible gift he’d had.

“I don’t remember her being like that in high school. She always seemed put together, sure, but also genuinely sweet.”

“A decade changes people.”

“I’m exactly the same,” I declared confidently.

“Even wearing the same T-shirt,” Ryan agreed.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, let’s go figure out this James Kwaitkowski thing.”

I wasn’t trying to disguise the fact that I was talking to what most people would perceive as thin air. Now that people talk on their phones all the time with airpods, most people didn’t think it was odd I was speaking aloud to no one. All hail the blue tooth.

“Did you hear what she said about court-ordered community service?” I asked as I headed for the hallway. “Is that really a thing? Unleashing criminals on seniors who may or may not have dementia?”

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