Once we had navigated the assault course of fences and shrubbery, the door was firmly closed and locked by Nick, who had a fearful spark in his eye. “I hate to burst your bubble, but not all ghosts bother with doors…” Nick finished bolting the door regardless, seized my hand and pulled me into the living room “what the fuck just happened?” he never was one to mince his words, a pastime I excelled at. “I… I don’t know! They shouldn’t be able to see us!” “Shouldn’t or can’t?” the man had a point, all my knowledge of keepers was learnt in idle gossip with the neighbours. Nick was pacing the living room; the excursion had undoubtedly distracted him from his mother’s phone call. “You said they maintain the balance and stuff, have we broken any rules?” God I hope not. I stood perfectly still in suspense that a defining memory might cherish the static and sneak into the room like a wild animal. Nothing came.
I sincerely hope we hadn’t broken any rules. The fear of that totally overshadowed the fact Nick had almost kissed me; I couldn’t relish the moment for one minute with the weight of those demonic children weighing on my shoulders like lead hands pushing me down. Ghosts just don’t get close to anyone; certainly not close enough to warrant any sort of physical interaction. It was like having the grim reaper as a chaperone all the time. I had always assumed that the lack of physical sensation was intended to keep you focused on completing what you needed to. Like ghost population control, helping us to finish our homework without sneaking out after dark for earthly distractions. Everyone started out in death alone, even soul mates; they weren’t lying with ’till death us do part’. It wasn’t being the universe being spiteful, it’s just everyone has different things to finish, everyone is unique, and the pressure of the solitude helps you to complete your business quicker. In theory. If you’re not an indecisive idiot like me.
Nick observed my attempt to recall and humoured me for a minute before growing more irate “well? …” why couldn’t he stand still for a minute, pacing about wasn’t going to solve anything. I wasn’t exactly calm either at the thought of those children’s impassive yet judgemental faces, but I needed to think “I don’t think we’ve broken any rules?” “Think? Isn’t there ‘ten commandments of being dead or something? Like a handbook you’re getting this stuff from?” is he being serious? He’s dead, and he wants instructions? “No! This is what other people have told me!” Nick jaw dropped, the extension allowed a few extra decibels of volume to escape his mouth “you mean we have NO IDEA how this works!?” I’m not sure I liked angry Nick.
My voice came out as a weak whine, and I reviled how nauseatingly feminine it sounded “why are you yelling at me?!” the wail of helplessness disgusted me; I was strong, I had snapped my own neck for Christ sake, I needed to man up. Nick reacted differently to this girlish outcry however,, and his face softened “oh god, I’m sorry,” he pulled me into a constricting embrace that I longed to feel more than cataloguing it’s occurrence “Those kids freaked me out. I shouldn’t take it out on you… I’m such a prick” I pulled away from his grasp and looked him in the eye “No you’re not. Let’s just think about this logically”
I thought I’d give his pacing a go and minced around the coffee table “they started looking when we almost…” I can’t say kissed if he wasn’t trying to kiss me I would look like a right idiot. I know it looks a lot like he was going to, but what if my mind had fabricated and manufactured the memory into something it wasn’t? You’ve paused to long now; say something “when we… got closer” not a superb choice. His face was either disappointed I hadn’t acknowledged what happened or regretful that he’d tried in the first place; my bet is the second option. “Argh,” Nick huffed, throwing his arms into the air in agitation “aren’t you allowed to fall… become… you know, friends with people once you’re dead!?” Ignore that comment Jasmine, bigger fish to fry.
We were overreacting here. Think. If we had done something wrong they would have come outside, or followed us home; the keepers would have done something about it. This must just be a warning, or a first strike or something. We can contain this, we can handle it; we just can’t get that close again. My heart may have just broken a bit, but even though I would give up anything to kiss him; actually kiss him, I can’t risk him not being able to move on. His eternity is way more important than mine.
“Look Nick, if they did see us, they haven’t done anything about it. I’d say we’re okay… we just can’t get that… close, again” Nick nodded in agreement, the lack of no hard sell subtly kicked me in the gut; but I attempted to ignore it. He was probably just testing his luck anyway; he’s always been a ladies man, and I am the only woman under ninety in the near vicinity. Chasing some skirt one last time before meeting his maker; yes, that must be it. Keep telling yourself that Jasmine, it will help.
That night we slept downstairs, I say slept, I mean laid awake waiting for the creepy keeper twins to stroll through the wall and spiritually deport us. Nick was a gentleman and relinquished the sofa, attempting an upright snooze in the arm chair; it looked incredibly uncomfortable, but comfort wasn’t an option regardless. As I lay awake in the darkness debating the best way to escape the house at short notice, I could see the whites of Nick eyes, luminous in the gloom. We were both terrified but didn’t want the other to see it; me not wanting to freak Nick out and Nick wanting to keep calm as I looked so in control not wanting to freak Nick out.
We finally dropped off to sleep as dawn began creeping into the living room; a shard of light grinning through an opening in the curtains, acting as a sundial for the night’s sleep we had missed out on. Good job we didn’t actually need it. Our brief snooze was brutally interrupted by thunderous knocking on the front door; I flew up with a grunt of surprise and Nick leapt in front on me, still half asleep, an arm reaching back against my leg checking I was still there. Immobilised with astonishment for a moment, Nick voice emerged a croak with residual sleep “Do you think it’s them? The twins?” they wouldn’t bother knocking on the door; in fact they couldn’t as they aren’t familiar with the house. BANG, BANG, BANG. Which means it’s a real person, a living person.
“MR COX? IT’S THE POLICE, ARE YOU IN?” I snapped into life and began redeploying the sofa cushions back to their untouched state “The house must look untouched! Quick!” BANG, BANG, BANG. “MR COX? ARE YOU THERE?” We finished our manic tidy and stood in the center of the room, not knowing what to do next. Unexpectedly the letter box flapped up to expose a pair of silver irises raptly staring through “MR COX?” the abrupt movement startled me and my hand naturally found its way into Nicks before feeling self-conscious of its vulnerable outburst and returning to my side.
The Brassy chaffing of a key against the lock rang in my ears and the door swung open to reveal two police officers and a well-dressed older woman, whose face was enflamed from a night of crying vs. sleep. “Please wait outside Mrs Cox,” The older of the two officers asked “we’ll come get you in a second, it’s standard protocol” That’s Nick mum? Nick looked mortified. His mother had the same shocking, blue eyes, but her hair was fairer; a stylish bob, peppered with platinum. She wore a string of pearls, and you could tell she was an elegant lady; one who wore heels every day and could spot a blemish on a wine glass at forty paces. Probably difficult to grow up with when you had a craving to rebel, like Nick; When his mother wanted him to take piano lessons, he would have wanted to start a rock band.
The younger officer was barely out of his teens, with a blast of orange hair and a face cratered with the echo of a teenage skin condition. He was the owner of the silver eyes. He strode into the living room, holding his belt like a rogue sheriff calling “POLICE, DON’T BE ALARMED. POLICE, DON’T PANIC” The second officer was older, possibly in his forties (, but I always was kind with the age game), he sported a glorious moustache and kind, methodical eyes. You could tell he had been lumbered with the kid for a shift and would rather be getting on with his job than babysitting “Brad, You check upstairs,” he called to the younger officer “I’ll take down here” Ginger Brad span around with a whine “I always check upstairs! Why don’t you ever do it Steve?” he was met with a fatherly glare “When you’ve been in the force as long as me, then you can check downstairs”
Brad didn’t seem too pleased with this response, but you could tell it was the final ruling on the subject. I wouldn’t mess with Steve, he had a gentle but authoritative manner to him; like a grandfather who will do anything for you, including the gift of clip round the ear if you back-chatted your mother. “What’s the deal with this one then?” Brad shouted across from the bottom of the stairs and Steve crossed the room to him with a menacing pace “Firstly his mother is outside so keep your voice down,” this certainly was good cop, bad cop, in experience over temperament at least “Guy hasn’t been seen in days, he’s on a business trip up north. We are looking for signs of him being home since Monday. If he doesn’t show up for his check out, then the squad up there will give the hotel room a once over”
The younger officer didn’t like being scalded for his ill practice at all “he’s probably up to his eyeballs in his secretary, why the hell have we been called in!?” don’t test him brad! You’re on thin ice! Steve continued his verbal reprimand “show some respect, the guy could be dead for all we know” Nick, and I exchanged glances; this guy was bang on the money “Plus his mother is worried. So do your job before I see the privilege is removed!”
I had moved to the outskirts of the room, so as not to get in the way and pulled Nick to my side. I think he was in shock at seeing his mum; maybe the fact he was dead had hit home a little more after seeing a fragment of his old life. He was trying to take in all the police were saying but you could practically see it going in one ear and out the other, he needed to know if his mother was okay. She was alone on the other side of the door like an abused animal, waiting to be rescued by news about her son. She would be praying that he was asleep upstairs or deaf over the din of headphones or even passed out in the hallway with a hangover; anything other than lying, lifeless in some ditch, like he probably was.
Ginger Brad darted upstairs obediently, leaving Steve to poke around downstairs. I turned to Nick, he was still in his own world trying to figure out what was going on. I peered out the window, his mother was on the phone, her back turned to the door and with Steve in the kitchen I seized our chance “quick!” I grabbed Nick arm and pulled him to the door “get outside, no one’s watching!” we swiftly slipped outside, unnoticed to join his mom. She was picking the dead heads off of a bush of flowers, shrivelled in the winter cold and sobbing down the phone to, I assume, Nick father “yes… we’re here now… I just don’t know Geoffrey, I’m so worried!” her words were laced with gasping cries as she tried to get a handle on her emotions “I have to go, they shouldn’t be too much longer… I’m okay, I’m okay… Love you too… will keep you posted”
Christ alive, this was a mess. My death was quick and effortless; Nick was more of a Miss Marple kind of affair. His face was wrinkled with worry and tears were rising in his eyes, a forlorn shade of pink blooming around the waterline. I went to place a hand on his shoulder, but Steve appeared at the door “you can come in now Mrs Cox,” his voice was thick with sympathy “I’m afraid there is no sign of him”
Once everyone had migrated back into the living room, and the ghosts had glided back through the door unseen, Steve sat Nick mom down “Do you know if your son had plans to visit any friends in the city? Maybe a Girlfriend in that neck of the woods?” I shot a glance to Nick relaying the same question and he shook his head, just as his mother did “He didn’t mention anything… as for girlfriends we aren’t that close” she let out a whimper of despair and Steve replied with a reassuring smile and nod “Brad, you check the house is secure, and we’ll take Mrs Cox home. If you hear anything from him, Mrs Cox let us know and if he still hasn’t turned up by his hotel check out tomorrow, we’ll send a couple officers around to check out his room” Mrs Cox was swallowing back tears and Nick knelt beside her “I’m so sorry mum, I’m a crappy son… was a crappy son”
Nick mom stood up and repositioned her handbag on her arm, wiping her face clear and composing herself “Thank you for coming officers, I’ll keep you informed if I hear anything and I trust you’ll do the same,” the pair nodded and gestured towards the door “It’s probably just me being a paranoid mother!” she was trying to lighten the situation with a little humour, Nick gets that from her. As the trio headed for the door, Steve’s reassurance could be heard as the house was locked up “I’m a father myself. Don’t worry, it’s no trouble”
We watched them leave and “I can’t believe what I’ve done to her…” rolled out of Nick mouth “you died Nick, it happens” He turned to me shaking his head with anguish, “not like this… something is wrong if they haven’t found me after six days” The worst thing Is, I knew he was right.
Where the hell was he?
