Page 14 of Ghosted
“You were probably drawn to me without even realizing it. Unfortunately for me, I act as a sort of beacon for the dead. I don’t know where you all go when you aren’t ‘here’ with me, but it seems like you can travel vast distances without a conscious thought. At least, that’s what I’ve gathered over the years.” I don’t know why some come to me when others don’t. I have to assume it’s because they don’t want to be helped.
“Oh, no. I don’t want to be stuckhere,” she says, putting her face in her hands.
I take in a breath and count to ten before letting it out again. “Perfect! That’s what I can help you with,” I say with forced cheerfulness.
“How can you help me?” she asks, quirking a dark brow.
“Well, I can sort of help you move on. We’ll figure out why you stuck around, because most people don’t, and then we’ll try to resolve whatever issue you’re having. After that, you should be able to go on,” I say, gesturing vaguely out the window.
“Go on,where?” she cries, looking at me with suddenly teary eyes.
I don’t think she’s going to like my answer, but… “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wish I did, but I can’t see beyond where you are now. I’ve never been there. It’s better than here, though, wherever it is,” I say gently.
“This wasnotsupposed to happen to me. Not yet. I just graduated from college, my boyfriend just proposed, and I was supposed to start med school next semester. I had a five, ten, and twenty-year plan! Dying at the age of twenty-three wasn’t on it.” She caves in on herself, shoulders drooping forward as she grips her elbows.
My heart cracks for her. “I’m sorry,” I say, hoping she can hear how much I mean it. Even if she has been abrasive, no one deserves to die so early.
After a while, she sniffs and looks at me to explain, “I used to bike everywhere. Heart health, you know? One day, I went to the grocery store to pick up a few essentials, and when I was on my way home … I got hit by a car. They didn’t see me, I guess. I was wearing a helmet, but it wasn’t enough. Apparently, I died on impact. I figured it out after I attended my own funeral and heard everyone talking about it. Just my luck that the thing that was supposed to make me live longer is what killed me.” She looks more furious than sad, like she’d avenge herself if she could.
“Just please tell me you didn’t die over kale,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. Death isn’t something you can really dance around when someone has already died. I’ve found that it helps sometimes to joke about it. It’s just too horrible otherwise.
She chuckles seemingly against her will and says, “No. But I may or may not have had sprouts on my grocery list.” She groans, “Ugh, what an awful thing to die for. I should have eaten more ice cream.” I laugh a little at that, wishing I could comfort her more.
“So, do you know why you’re still here?” I ask eventually. I want to help her, but I also really need to get to work.
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. I mean, like I said, I had my life all planned out, and now that’s not going to happen. So maybe that’s why?”
“Maybe, but it’s not like you can go to med school like this, so it must be something else. There’s usually some sort of unfinished business, and in my twenty-nine years, I’ve never seen someone stick around for a degree.”
“You can’t tell me why I’m here?” she asks.
“No, sorry. Believe it or not, it’s rare for a spirit to remain here. Sometimes it takes a while for them to fully understand why they’re stuck, and I’m no fortune teller.”
“No offense, but what do you even do? If I have to figure out why I’m here, why do I need you?” she questions with a snotty uptilt of her chin.
“You’re right. I can’t automatically see what has you stuck here. All I can do is try to help you figure it out. Sometimes, I can contact family members or friends and help in that way. Or I’ll pass along physical objects or messages. But a lot of it is just talking and trying to think through the problem. And honestly, if you’d rather try to figure it out on your own, that’s fine. It’s no skin off my nose. I actually need to get ready for work, so if you could just… Go somewhere else for a bit, that’d be nice. If you want my help, come back whenever, but preferably during waking hours. If you don’t show up, I can assume that you’ve got it handled.” I’m trying to be patient, but I am over her rudeness and in desperate need of some me time.
“Fine,” she agrees. In a blink, I’m alone again.
NINE
After callingWren and getting her voicemail, I fear I’m on my own for the night. I know most people would probably think it was pathetic that my sister is my only friend, but it’s just easier that way. Growing up, I had friends here and there, but I found out most of them were using me to get to my cool aunt, who had already become something of a local legend by the time I was in high school. Teenage girlsreallywant their tarot cards read.
Wren has never had that same problem. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not exactly a social butterfly, but the confidence she carries herself with is magnetic. People are drawn to her, even if they are a little afraid of her. Sure, she had the same issue with people trying to get to know Aunt Clarissa growing up, but she usually got rid of those “friendships” before they even truly began. Maybe watching me get hurt over and over was enough to prevent her from attempting connections withthose types. She saw how I often made myself smaller, trying to keep friends who didn’t care about me, and decided never to shrink.
So, my sister usually ends up being out with other people on the weekends while I stay in to work or grab a coffee solo across the street. It’s not that she doesn’t invite me; she does. I just usually decline. I don’t want her to feel like she has to be my buffer, which is what typically happens when I go out with her and her friends. I can be friendly on a surface level, like the way I am with Misha, but anything deeper spooks me. That’s why I’m so disappointed about Dean. It felt easy in a way I’ve never experienced before. It sucks to learn that feeling didn’t go both ways.
I shake my head, reminding myself that I amnotsupposed to be thinking about him because I’ve given him too much of my bandwidth already. I look around my living room and sigh, resigned to spend another Friday night alone. I perk up at the sight of the box of goods on my desk for the witchy mystery boxes and decide, like the rest of my generation, that the company of strangers on the internet is preferable to being alone. Even if they never see my face.
“Rae Baby!How is my favorite niece?” Aunt Clarissa billows into The Veil, bangles jangling on her wrists and dripping in a multitude of gems.
I can’t help but chuckle from my place behind the counter. “You say that to both me and Wren. How am I supposed to believe you?”
“Well, you’re the one carrying on my legacy,” she says, sweeping her arms in a grand gesture around the store, making the bell sleeves of her shirt flap like butterfly wings. “That must mean I like you at least a little more,” she argues.
“Ah, or it means that Wren couldn’t be bothered to run an entire store,” I say with a raised brow.
Aunt Clarissa scowls. “That girl never did care about our legacy.”
