Page 23 of Ghosted
“I don’t want to be involved… But I might look the other way if you haunt him,” I muse, pushing my nearly empty plate aside.
“What do you mean?”
“You know—” I wave my free arm around and groan theatrically. “Haunt him.”
She scrunches her nose delicately, and I have afleeting thought about botox and the afterlife. “Is that something that actually happens?”
“You can make it happen. You just have to practice asserting your presence over objects and then you’ll be well on your way to haunt your douchebag of a boyfriend.” I flourish my hand to the side like a gameshow host.
“Fiancé,” she corrects, ice frosting her words.
“Fiancé,” I amend, taking a sip of soda. “Anyway. If you want to practice, you can come back to my place and work on it in a low-pressure environment.”
“Your place?” Her lip curls. When she notices my scowl, she sighs and says, “Fine.” Without another word, she blinks out, and I pretend to end a call on my phone.
Goody.
FOURTEEN
After showering off the woods,I sit on my couch and get ready to binge-watch my newest reality TV obsession. I have a few hours left of my day off, and I intend to take full advantage by vegging out on the couch with some snacks and other people’s dramatics.
I’m two episodes and a glass of wine deep into my Sunday night when the hairs on my arms stand up. The sigh that leaves my body should be studied. It feels at least three times my actual lung capacity. I look up to see the pull chain on my ceiling fan swaying ever so slightly and begin a slow clap. “Alright, Rebecca, look at you go,” I say with mild approval.
She pops into existence, sapping some of the warmth from the air. She takes a dramatic bow in the middle of my living room. “Thank you very much,” she says and stands.
“Pretty impressive considering we just talked about this less than five hours ago.”
“I did tell you I was on my way to med school, right? I’mnothing if not determined.” In a blink, she’s next to me on the couch and wrapping her arms around her knees. She looks like a model posed for a picture, her hair still scraped back into that bun that would be severe on someone else. But on her, it just serves to highlight her delicate bone structure. She’s also changed into expensive looking loungewear. I see she’s mastered altering her appearance already.
“Who knew being an over-achiever would serve you in the afterlife?” I ask rhetorically. I look over to see her concentrating on some knitting needles I’ve left on the coffee table. If I squint, I can see them vibrating the slightest bit. It really is pretty impressive that she’s already able to move things.
I return my attention to my show, miffed that my favorite contestant has been kicked off the island and I missed it. I rewind the episode to the beginning and settle in, content to let Rebecca use the Force or whatever to move my knitting needles.
I’m just getting to the dramatic climax of the episode—someone had a drink thrown on them—when Rebecca asks, “What’s that?” She’s pointing to my desk where I have a ton of inventory set up for when I go live online for The Veil. I briefly explain about the shop and what I do, not wanting to be berated with her judgmental commentary.
To my surprise, she doesn’t bat an eye or even make a snide comment. She seems genuinely curious and interested in the store. “So… You’re a medium who runs an occult shop? Very on brand.”
“Let’s just hope I get to keep my job, because I really don’t think my skills are suited for much else,” I say, picking the emerald nail polish off my thumb nail.
She frowns at me. “Why would you lose your job?Didn’t you say your aunt owns it? Oh my god! You’re embezzling aren’t you?” She gasps dramatically and leans in closer, dark brown eyes sparking with curiosity.
“Sorry to be a disappointment, but no. Forget I said anything.” I wave her away, attempting to go back to watching my show.
“You can’t just say that and then not tell me. Comeon! The afterlife is boring and you’re literally the only person I can have a conversation with. Who am I going to tell?”
I think about the fact that she really can’t talk to anyone else about this. And that she has a unique perspective considering she’s a ghost. Even if she isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, it might be useful to talk it over with her. “You actually care?” I ask.
“Care? I mean, if it’ll make you feel better, then sure. I care. I’m not in it for the drama of a stranger at all.” When I scowl at her, she says, “Oh, come on. I haven’t been able to scroll a social media app in forever. I miss hearing about other people’s problems.”
I sigh and relent. “Okay, fine. But one rude comment and I’m done.” She mimes zipping her lips, so I continue. “We’re going to be short a lot of money in the coming year. My aunt who owns the business is going to go to a nice retirement home and the landlord who owns this block is raising the rent. We do okay, but not so great that an extra four thousand a month wouldn’t tank us. And because I’m the one in charge, I have to come up with a plan to make up the difference.”
“That’s a lot of pressure,” she says, propping her chin on her hand.
“Yeah,” I agree, annoyed at myself for bringing up the one thing I’m not supposed to be stressing about right now. “We’retrying to figure out a way to make our surge of customers in October become returning customers the rest of the year.”
“Do you have any ideas?” she asks.
“I mean, my aunt had one but I’m not sure about it.” She gestures for me to continue. “She wants me to use my Gift to contact spirits on their living loved one’s behalf.”
