Ghost Girl and I air-fived (since any contact was like sticking a butter knife in an electrical outlet) and we did a jig through tables, trash cans and the cash register. Then we got to talking and I found out her name was Sylvia Reed and she died in 1963 from a train accident. I preferred Ghost Girl.
“Boy, I tell ya: when I felt the heebie-jeebies I thought for sure you’d go poltergeist,” she said. She took a whiff from the bags of coffee grounds. She couldn’t smell anything, but maybe it sparked a memory of the smell.
“Don’t call me ‘Boy.’”
Ghost Girl pointed to her Mohawk which was standing upright for a change. “This guy was flat in my face and I could hardly see. I probably got hit by a truck or two on my way here but it was like something guided me to ya. Can ya believe it?”
I grabbed the counter and did pull-ups with my feet passing through the tile floor and my elbows going through the ledge. “Nope.” I cranked out twenty pull-ups before I hooked my legs on the counter and did sit-ups. My head went through the floor and it was a bit frightening since everything went black, but I had to keep in shape so my flab wouldn’t repulse all the ladies in life. “You don’t have to worry about me anyway,” I said.
“Right, you’ll be getting you’re life back,” she said and giggled through it so I could hardly understand. She reached in her trench coat pockets for something but couldn’t find it. She pulled out her mirror and set it on the table but it stayed glued to her palm.
“What are you looking for? Did you stuff it in your panties? Maybe your bra? They seem like convenient storage.”
“Too uncomfortable. I should’ve worn pants. You got anything in yours?” she asked. She spanked me and it shocked us both.
“Stop that!” I twitched but she giggled. I stayed on the other side of the hall, by the stairs, so we had to yell to communicate. I didn’t want any more shocks.
I dug in my pockets since I hadn’t before. There was a gum wrapper and a purple pencil with the eraser missing. It was a shame my wallet had fallen out during the accident. I really wanted some skittles from the vending machine. The pencil’s lead was half-in but even when I turned it upside down, it didn’t fall. I shook until I stabbed myself in the lip—and it actually hurt! “I’ve got enough to write the next Great American Poem. But it has to fit on this gum wrapper. Maybe it’ll be a haiku.”
“Don’t forget the kireji,” someone said from behind. I turned around and there was Anita. She had changed shirts and put on pants but she still wore that green smock. Her glasses were in her hair.
“Thank god you’re back.” I went to hug her but she stiff-armed me in the nose. It wasn’t anything like when Ghost Girl touched me—this was like real physical pain.
“I’ve been back,” Anita snapped. “I returned to watch you squirm. Did she pull you from your torture?”
“You mean my visit with Mr. Shadow? It was hardly torture. He was a bit awkward but loners always are.” I wiggled my nose to make sure it was its usual perfect shape but the windows weren’t reflective enough to let me check. “I don’t really know how I got out of there. Bunch of other shadows were clawing at my pants. I told them I’d strip for them if they just asked.”
“It should’ve lasted another twelve hours,” she mumbled.
“Hey, guy,” Sylvia said and walked towards us. “Who’s your bud? Did you seduce a pretty little spirit last night?”
Anita stepped towards her with a glowing hand. She cocked it back as if to slap Ghost Girl but I rammed Anita. I meant to tackle her to the ground but she stood firm and I hung from her arm like a length of string. She only stopped her slap out of surprise. “What are you doing?” she barked.
“Seriously, guy. You ought to learn some manners.”
“Why are you trying to exorcise her?” I yelled at Anita.
“She’s been here for nearly fifty years. It’s time to move on.” She kept swinging her hand but I wrapped myself around her arm like a sloth and Sylvia stepped back.
“You want to do what, Missy?” Ghost Girl said. She floated back to the coffee shop.
Fifty feet and a counter were between Anita and Sylvia but Anita closed that distance in an instant and stood in the counter, ready to slap Sylvia with a glowing hand. I was still on her arm and feeling a little sick from being upside-down, jostled and teleported!
I wobbled in between the two girls. “STOP!” I yelled at the spinning room.
“Out of the way!” Anita shouted and shoved me but I wouldn’t move. Anita lowered her hand and Ghost Girl floated outside. I watched her through the window until she was a dot in the clouds.
“If we had more time, I’d yell at you some more.”
“You can slap me if you want. It might sober me up,” I said.
She grabbed my wrist and yanked me through the window. “Come on. We have to get to your funeral.” We floated in the opposite direction of Sylvia.
