I sat down on the sofa and tried to collect my thoughts, but they were scuttling away from me like red fire ants. How could this have happened? I was always so careful to protect him; I even picked pieces of glass off the floor and moved knives away from the edge of the counter so he would never hurt himself. Like some sort of twisted guardian angel but without the halo of good intentions. I let him out of my sight for four days, and he’s dead; the word ‘dead’ stuck to my lips like a bitter red wine stain that clings to your mouth from a night of regret. It wasn’t a word I had ever wanted to associate with Nick and waves of realisation were crashing over me every few minutes whenever the ‘D’ word popped back into my mind.
A few minutes later Nick came downstairs wearing those new charcoal gray trousers that I adore and buttoning up a crisp white shirt, rolling up the sleeves “I can’t put any other clothes on… This is what I woke up in; not even clean socks?” My eyes darted down to behold some extremely jazzy feet covered in rainbow zigzags, my eyebrows raised without consent and an unwanted giggle slipped out of me “why on earth would you want to change those?!” sarcasm may be the lowest form of wit, but it’s my weapon of choice. Nick joined in the laughter pointing to his striped toes “I will have you know my mother bought me these,” cause that makes it all better “besides I can’t put shoes on either”
Nick walked over and sat beside me, he’s looking straight at me, I can’t believe he can see me; I am not used to these two way interactions “Those are probably the clothes you died in,” I pointed out “given your lack of shoes you were probably in your hotel room… can you remember… dying… at all?” He took a deep breath and stared at the floorboards, trying to jigsaw broken memories together like a shattered wine glass “Nope, not a whisper. I just remember waking up in my clothes and feeling really relaxed and calm,” That’s the way it works, no bright lights or heavenly voices, just a good night sleep and a feeling that something significant just happened; something that was meant to happen “Might sound weird but being dead feels right… well not right I didn’t want to die, but it feels like I know it’s the truth, and I’m okay with it” he really is dealing with this well though, I was a complete amateur compared to this guy; he’s the emperor of composure right now.
“No, that’s how it feels,” I confirmed “Your mind knows that you’re dead, it’s just been on hold till you detached from your body”. Nick sat up in his chair intrigued “How does that happen?” I’m not sure if I like this guide to the afterlife role, I feel like the gate keeper or something “usually being buried, but it’s only been four days since you left,” funerals are never that speedy “you might have had an accident that jolted your soul out of you- like being electrocuted or maybe you were murdered?” “Murdered?!” He quickly followed with “ I’m not exciting enough to be murdered. My bet is door number one; the accident hypothesis… I don’t get to go to my own funeral?!” I shook my head “I was disappointed by that one too”. Apparently Nick had chosen some inappropriate music for his funeral and was gutted, he wouldn’t get to see his last rebellious stand “it would have been amazing” he mused visualising the whole thing with a glazed stare into the distance.
I was just content to look at him, I was seeing new facets of Nick personality; it was so strange just talking to him. He broke away from his funeral fantasy and surveyed my face “How long have we lived together then?”, “Almost six years now, I’ve been dead for nearly eight” his eyes finally relaxed into mine, and it sent an undulating tingle through my body, a minor echo of the shock when he walked through me. It was weeks ago, but my memory couldn’t even attempt to erase a second of it “, So I moved in with you, you didn’t start haunting me” he lowered his eyes with a smile would kill me if I were alive before bringing his gaze back to mine “you must know me pretty well then, am I okay? You haven’t tried to kill me, have you?” Play it cool don’t confess your devotion. Be casual, nonchalant; be cool “you’re okay… you have your moments… but… on the whole… you know… okay” This; right here, right now, is why I died single.
“Hamish was yours to, wasn’t he?” I fumbled with the sleeves of my jumper and grinned “yeah, thanks for taking him in. Not many people would adopt a dead girl’s cat!” Nick gave me a nod of appreciation for my thanks and slouched into the sofa “He had me at meow,” awful joke; I still laughed “Nah, he’s good company. I doubt we’ll be seeing him again now he’s with my mum, and I’m .. pretty deceased”. Very pretty and very deceased. “My parents tried the same when I died, but he found his way back; he’s like a homing pigeon,” I explained to Nick. I had made the little cat a den in the shed once the house had been locked up and he hunted for his food, he was wild at heart like a feral lap cat. “Once the house is locked up though, we will have to use the back window to get outside. They don’t leave keys for the ghosts”
“I should introduce you to Edith” unsure if it were a good idea but in full knowledge that I would be scalded for with-holding such monumental gossip from her. Nick sat up again in surprise “The old man-eater next door?!” her reputation truly does proceed her “man-eater?! She’s about ninety… Or was about ninety” “No, seriously!” Apparently every week she would catch him on his way up the street and need help changing a light bulb or reaching something on the top shelf or getting a ball of wool that rolled under the sofa, whilst telling him all about what a Looker she was in her day. “She even pinched my bum as I walked out the door!” She died about six months after he moved in so I guess they did meet, never mentioned any of this to me though. Looks like I wasn’t the only one with a flame for him.
“Before we go though” Nick continued “I have some questions for you” oh dear, this could all go horribly wrong “fire away” I tried to sound carefree and breezy but the worry seeped through a little “So whenever I smelt jasmine, you were around?” swift nod of yes made his eyes narrow in suspicion “What about that time in the shower?” Fabulous, I want to die all over again “ I’m sorry Nick, but you got in the shower with me” “ I’m sorry Jasmine, but do the dead actually need to shower?” bugger… he had me there “No… But I do. It makes things feel more… normal… more alive” the suspicion melted, and you could feel the mood needed to be lightened, sandbags needed to be thrown overboard to pick the discussion back up “so…” he eased into the conversation “ you’ve seen me naked… which makes it only fair… that I get to see you naked,” my loud bark of laughter at this suggestion burst the atmosphere as if that’s happening “It was worth a try… wouldn’t water just go straight through you anyway though?”
How do I explain this? “Eeeerrrr… yes and no…” I described the familiarity rules for touching things; how you can move things but don’t feel it “Imagine what it’s like holding a mug whilst wearing leather gloves” he couldn’t see where this was going, look at his expression “no bear with me! You can feel there is something in your hand, but you can’t really feel it? Now I’ve just told you there are no gloves and the mug is full of scalding coffee, but it feels the same” you can’t feel the gloss of the ceramic or the excessive heat radiating from it, just that there is something in your hand. His eyes stared at his hands as he imagined the sensation “sort of makes sense, but what if I touched you?” he looked up, moved closer and put his hand on my shoulder “in a non sexual, non creepy way?” My lungs just dissolved, and my heart just burst. Be sexual and be creepy, it’s fine by me.
I reciprocated and put my hand on his shoulder “see, nothing” complete and utter lies. He stayed there for a second, taking the feeling “That’s really weird! I can feel your hand’s there, but not… feel it” he shuffled even closer and moved his hands to my jaw line, his palms cradling my face and fingers weaving into my hair. Okay my heart had reformed itself and burst all over again, control your breathing, look calm. One touch and I’m a mess, get it together. I’m going to have to live with him now, we need to be friends; if one of us made a move and it went wrong it could jeopardize the other moving on. Stakes are too high. He wouldn’t make a move on me anyway; I just have to show some self control. Oh god he’s close, don’t look so panicked! Wait, I have pins and needles where his hands are… That shouldn’t be happening. Maybe it’s because he’s new and might have a little life left in him; complete rubbish, but I need to believe it.
“It’s really strange” his voice was quiet and thoughtful “I can’t feel if you’re warm or soft or anything, just that you’re there”. Nick took his hands off of my face flexing his fingers “just have pins and needles, is that supposed to happen?” No, it really, really wasn’t Just lie, act casual “Sometimes” he looked over my face again, examining my features; I hope I didn’t die with spinach in my teeth, I wish I did die with some make-up on. ARGH it doesn’t matter; we have to be friends. I’m not risking eternity with an ex; an eternity of sexual tension is far easier to handle… I think.
He concluded his visual exploration at my eyes before asking “what’s your real name?” “Jasmine” “No, I named you jasmine. What’s your real name?” this was going to look pathetic. I started straightening out the sofa cushions; fussing to avoid the issue “I actually misplaced my name, so Jasmine is my name now” Nick was trying not to laugh “you misplaced your name?” his ribs were jumping where the laughter was rising in him “how can you misplace your name?” “Where did you go to school?” my sudden question surprised him “well that’s easy, it was…oh god…” game, set and match Mr Cox “I rest my case”
“Okay ‘Jasmine’ what are the rules?” “Rules?” I had no idea what he was talking about “yeah, the rules of death, what can I do?” I talked him through unfinished business, and how you had to figure out how you died on your own; his business must be close to here as this is where he came back to. Also that, if you don’t finish anything you just stay, forget everything and become a keeper. There was also no getting all ‘Amityville’ and possessing or repeatedly scaring the hell out of people as that leads to complications which I’ve heard the keepers sort out; And by sorting out I mean you don’t get to move on, Or you get exorcised by the living. His eyes grew wide “just like the films?” I nodded sternly “just like the films”
“So is the big man upstairs real?” my expression of confusion urged him to elaborate “you know… God” oh, that big man upstairs; for a second I thought he was going to tell me a body builder had moved into the loft “I have no idea, from what I’ve heard the keepers act on behalf of something higher up, so I guess it could be god? …But there are ghosts from all religions, so I don’t know whose god it would be” He thought this over and seemed happy enough with my vague explanations “okay, what about the fun stuff” Nick leapt to his feet and crossed the room “can I fly or walk through walls?” “You can walk through walls” child like joy drenched his face “sweet!” he started walking forward and I cut in “If you…” too late, he had thumped into the wall and fallen back onto the floor “…if you aren’t familiar with the building… same as moving things… you don’t feel any pain though”
Nick lay on the floor for a minute “I don’t feel any pain… at all… and that should have hurt” yes, indeed it should have. The force he ploughed into that wall with should have blackened his eyes and turned his nose into a claret fountain, but he didn’t feel a thing. I had to warn him though, your body is numb, but your emotions are amplified so he must keep an eye on how he’s feeling and not bottle things up “At some point it’ll be so much you’ll want to die all over again, but you just have to ride it through and it’ll quieten down over time”
God I’m such a hypocrite.
