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“What the hell is going on? Who are all you guys?”
-
“Shall we do the welcoming ceremony in another room?”
-
“Yeah, probably should have kept those on. Big mistake.”
-
“And that about wraps up the basics. Any questions?”
Trevor had found himself sat on a different couch, surrounded by a bunch of weirdly dressed people. One of them had started talking, something about an ‘orientation’? Truth be told, he hadn’t been paying much attention. Not after the first sentence at least, where the man had uttered a simple word, one that had been tolling about in his head ever since.
Dead .
It was the first thing they’d said to him. They’d guided him to take a seat, and told him the bad news.
Dead.
It was what Ari had yelled, wasn’t it? That had annoyed the old-timey war dude.
He’s dead. I’m dead.
It couldn’t be possible. Could it?
He was healthy. He was fit. He was thirty-two , for God’s sake, thirty-two year olds didn’t die . The worst thing that happened to people his age was that they lost their jobs, or their apartments, or God forbid, their parents . He’d hate to never see his parents again.
Or they lost all their money, or got sick. He wasn’t sick.
They didn’t die .
“Hello? Earth to Trevor? Are you still with us?”
Trevor was decidedly not with them. His mind was racing, trying to grasp what was happening to him.
It wasn’t possible. Not what they were telling him. What had they said? They were ghosts?
Ghosts aren’t real .
He didn’t feel dead. He could still move and see and hear things. Dead people clearly couldn’t do that stuff, ergo not dead.
His chest kinda hurt.
Dead .
It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t.
Dead .
There had to be a simpler explanation.
Trevor laughed, quietly, nervously, to himself.
“This isn’t happening,” he muttered, finally looking up and meeting the eyes of the strange group. They were all staring at him, waiting for something.
The revolutionary dude from earlier began to speak. “I’m quite afraid it is.”
Trevor laughed again, a little louder this time. Of course. It was really that simple.
“No,” he doubled down. “I mean this literally isn’t happening. This isn’t real. I’m tripping complete balls right now.”
He was met with complete silence at the revelation. His heart twisted further into knots.
The flapper made a face. “Oh dear,” she said simply.
But what did he care? The colorful entourage wasn’t real. He didn’t need their approval.
“I don’t need your approval,” he murmured aloud, willing the statement into reality. “None of you are real. None of this is. I’m totally high.”
“Ouch.” Trevor really didn’t care enough to see who said that. None of it mattered anyway.
He stood up, and straightened out his jacket.
“It was totally great hallucinating you all, but I’m gonna go find my bros, and we’re gonna-”
An image cut through his mind, and Trevor suddenly felt as if he'd been thrown into icy water.
Ari, Chet, and David were crowded around his body. Freaking out. It had been real, to them at least.
“He’s dead!”
The phantom cold soaked through his jacket and nestled into all manner of uncomfortable spots. A chill ran up his spine.
His bros weren’t going to be in the other room.
“Actually, they’ve probably gone… home, or out, or something by now,” Trevor murmured, trying to keep the chatter out of his teeth.
Just ignore it, it’s not real. It can’t be.
“So instead, I’m just gonna go upstairs, and I’m gonna sleep this off, and I’m going to feel great in the morning, and we’re gonna go from there,” he decided. “See you all never.”
With that, he made his exit, pushing past the two of them standing in front of the doorway, and breaking out into a slight sprint as soon as he was out of the room.
“Trevor, wait!” he heard from behind him. He’d never told them his name, had he?
And he only just caught the follow-up before he was up the stairs, and out of range:
“Where’s he gonna go?”
Man, fuck this. I need to lie down.
Trevor had slept the night before, but he couldn’t remember which rooms were and weren’t in use by David’s parents. He wasn’t picky, but if he was going to crash without asking, he wanted to be at least somewhat respectful about it.
He reached for the doorknob of the first room and- his hand went right through it .
Trevor blanched. “What the hell?”
He tried again. His hand, again, didn’t so much as slow when it hit the handle. It was as if it wasn’t even there.
He did not need this right now. There was something wrong with the handle, it wasn’t his problem. He’d just check the rooms with doors that were already open.
Trevor skipped the next few rooms until he reached a door that was mostly open. He stuck his head inside.
A regally dressed older woman was sitting on the edge of the room’s worn bed. Her dress was dark teal and looked like something out of Victorian times, and she was kinda hot. Trevor wondered if she was one of David’s mom’s friends.
It was then that she noticed his intrusion, and as her eyes flicked up and down his body, Trevor remembered he wasn’t wearing pants. From the way her expression had twisted into one of practiced disgust, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Hooligan,” the woman hissed, sneering rather violently for a first impression. “Degenerates like you are the reason my David has turned out so like his grandfather, and if I had my way, I’d treat you the way you treated my finest china- by throwing darts at you until you were in a million pieces all over my expensive carpet.”
Okay, firstly, how did she know about the drunk blindfolded darts incident, and secondly-
“What the hell is your problem?” Trevor blurted angrily, not caring for how much more of a dick it made him look like. He’d never even met this lady, had everyone in this house lost their damn minds? What did she even mean?
His outburst apparently had shocked her, like she hadn’t expected her words to actually be taken so offensively. Or at all.
God, he really didn’t have time for any of this meshuga. He left her to pick her jaw up off the floor and stormed into the next room.
Thankfully, this one was unoccupied, had a bed, and didn’t seem to be the parents’. Trevor attempted to take off his jacket- and what the hell, he really was high- gave up, and flopped on top of the sheets.
He didn’t even take off his shoes.
I’ll wash the blankets later, or something. I just need to knock out.
Eventually, Trevor managed to go to sleep, and put a quiet to the unwelcome thoughts racing around his mind.
-
He dreamt of drowning. Of floating, falling, of water.
-
Trevor had woken up the next morning expecting a headache, or a hangover, or something .
Instead, he felt just as buzzed as he had before he’d gone to sleep.
Great.
-
There was something wrong with the handles on the closet, as well.
As far as he knew, David’s parents weren’t going to be home for another couple days, so the pants thing wasn’t going to be an issue. He was alone, after all, and if the boys came back, they knew what was up.
-
“Good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep?”
Trevor couldn’t hold back a despaired groan. They were still here. The scoutmaster one was, at least.
“Who are you? Why are you still here?”
The man apparently wasn’t phased by his attitude, answering his question with an ever-pleasant smile.
“I’m glad you asked! My name is Pete, and it is lovely to properly be meeting you.”
There was a moment of silence, and Trevor felt like he was expected to say something.
“Yeah, hi, whatever. Answer the other question.”
“Well, as we were saying last night, we’re ghosts! We’re still here because we can’t go anywhere else, and we haven’t yet ascended to whatever comes next.”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “Oy gevalt, not this again. Cut the shit man, please,” he despaired.
Pete’s smile faltered for the first time. “I would if I could, bud. What you’re hearing is true.”
Obviously not.
Once again, Trevor elected to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, and turned to leave.
“Trevor, please. You have to listen to us,” he heard ‘Pete’ plead from behind him.
“Not real,” was his only response.
-
Trevor spent the rest of his day ignoring the hallucinations.
Not just the people, who upon seeing he’d turn and walk the other way, hoping they’d get the message to leave him alone (they never did), but the other stuff .
Not only were doorknobs broken, but so was anything else he tried to pick up. He couldn’t move the sheets, he couldn’t make a cup of coffee, he couldn’t pick up a pillow from the couch.
Something was really wrong with everything, and it was pissing him off. Clearly the pills were having some serious lasting effects, and he was suffering delusions as a result.
And the pants thing was really starting to grate. He knew the other inhabitants weren’t real, but he hated the staring, and he was starting to feel the indecency. It’s not that he was ashamed of what there was to show, but when he’d taken off his boxers, he’d been under the impression that only his bros (and maybe the hot limo driver if he wanted to back up his claim) were gonna see what was underneath. And illusions as they may be, the scrutiny was humiliating . It was bad enough that they wouldn’t leave him alone, but Trevor could feel his face flushing whenever a line of sight dropped beneath the shirt and he was exposed and unable to do anything about it.
Just ignore them, he’d told himself about a hundred times by now, they’re not real .
And as his hand went through the fridge door, Trevor told himself that he wasn’t hungry, that it wasn’t an issue, and that tomorrow, he was going to sort things out for real.
-
He dreamt of police sirens. Of cops, poking around downstairs, asking questions.
He was definitely asleep. He didn’t so much as stir when a finger poked him and whispered that he might want to go and have a look, and to ask if he too, had robbed a bank.
He didn’t move when the door opened further and a police officer stuck his head in the room, and he certainly didn’t expect to be acknowledged.
He was dreaming, because a half-naked stranger pleading would’ve drawn the eye. It would’ve caught someone’s attention.
He dreamt as the police officer had closed the door behind him, leaving him with no way out.
He dreamt that the Brimbles had arrived two days early from their vacation in Europe, because that time had definitely not passed, and he’d definitely not been awake for any of it.
He dreamt that they’d opened the door, and decided not to disturb him because he was their son’s friend and they had respect for him, and no other reason.
-
“Did he seriously not leave the room the entire time?” the flapper, (Alberta, she’d tried to introduce herself as), was saying.
“Yeah, I checked in periodically. I think he was pretending to be asleep each time I came in, but one time he wasn’t close enough to the bed to make it back in time and he really didn’t like that I didn’t come through the door. Well, I did come through the door, just not in the way he expected.”
“He’s aware he can do that too, right?” That was Hetty, the rude Victorian lady. Trevor had quickly learned that she was just a figment of his imagination as well.
Pete sighed. “He adamantly refused to so much as try. He’s been taking this all really hard.”
A sniff. “A bit over-dramatic, if you ask me. We all died, get over it.”
“Isaac! Have some respect! He was a young man, he probably had his whole life ahead of him. We all moped around at first, and he especially has reason to.”
“Alberta’s right. We should at least try to bridge this gap, because he could be staying with us a very long time.”
“I completely agree, but I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised you’re the one to make the point, Sass. I thought you found him annoying.”
“I disapproved of his friend group, sure, but death is a changing experience. We can steer him on the right path.”
Trevor wasn’t really listening, anyway, as the group chatted away. He was trying to make it past the living room without being spotted.
“Trevor not try talk to Livings yet. Thor find this intriguing.”
“He’s probably avoiding them because he’s scared when he tries and fails, we’ll be proven right.”
They’d left the front door open. Trevor didn’t need to tell them where he was going. He was a grown man. It was better they didn’t know he was here at all.
Pants be damned, he was getting out of here.
“Oh there he is! Hey- what was his name again?”
Trevor broke into a run out of the front door. He could hear the others moving to follow behind him.
Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?
“We told him about the boundary, right?”
He wasn’t going to question that. He wasn’t going to look back. He was only going forwards, getting out, training his eyes on the end of the driveway, where he could see-
-the others crowded around on the manor’s front stairs, watching with a mixture of amusement and pity as he got closer and closer, skidding to a sudden halt.
Trevor didn’t wait for them to make any smartass comments, he turned right back around and tried again.
This time, the switch cost him his balance and he ended up scraping his face along a good two feet of gravel.
“You okay bud? ‘Dude’?”
It hadn’t really hurt as much as it should have. Nothing was bleeding, or even really scratched by the time he stood up.
“No.”
“That’s the ghost boundary,” Pete began unhelpfully. “As you’ve just found out, none of us can cross it without getting turned right back-”
“Shut up.”
“Trev.” Alberta shot him a look. “Be nice to Pete. He’s just trying to help you.”
Trevor returned the glare and made a point of pushing past Pete specifically to get back into the house.
-
Trevor was, as of current, stuck in the bathroom.
He’d been thinking about how he probably should reasonably have to use the manor’s facilities one of these days when Mrs Brimble had gotten the pills she’d come in for, and shut the door before he could follow her back out.
And yes, he was stuck . There was nothing he could do, so long as he couldn’t use the door handle.
Sasappis, who apparently was not beholden to the laws of nature, probably due to not being real, had poked his head quite literally through the door.
“Tell me, Trevor,” he’d asked, “what is so interesting that you’ve been in this bathroom for three, going on four hours?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Sass had then joined him fully in the space.
“Privacy, man. I could’ve been busy.”
The intruder laughed at that. “You’re stuck without pants on, and you’re worried we might catch you… what, without pants on?”
The ensuing moment of silence had apparently been uncomfortable enough for Sass to amend his statement.
“Sorry, thinking about it now, that might have been an overstep for me to say that. I should’ve asked before I came in.”
“Yeah, you should have.”
“Can I come in?”
“You’re in here now. What do you want?”
Sass shrugged. “Just, again, to see what you’re up to. Ignoring why you’re here now, why did you come in here to begin with?”
“Why do you think, genius? When a man’s gotta go, he’s gotta go.”
“But why would you ‘gotta go’? You haven’t eaten or digested anything in literally a week.”
Trevor hmphed . “So what?”
“You don’t see anything… unusual, about even just that?”
“People can go without food for weeks. It’s not that strange.”
“But you haven’t been hungry, either. Or thirsty.”
“You don’t know that. And again, so what? It’s not your problem.” Everyone and their questions , man. The less he had to think about it, the better.
“And you didn’t find it odd,” Sass continued, “that Sophie hasn’t so much as said hi while you’ve been here? Or cared that you followed her into the bathroom?”
“She’s a weird old woman. I don’t think we should be judging her for how she interacts with other people.”
To that, Sass sighed. “I’m really trying. We all are.”
And Trevor wasn’t feeling like being helpful, so he responded: “Trying to what?”
Another moment of silence, this time a frustrated one. Trevor really didn’t mind annoying the other ‘people’ in the house- their exasperation was one thing he did have control over, and it made him feel secure.
“You can leave whenever you want. Just walk through the door, like this.” Sass demonstrated a couple of times, and Trevor looked the other way.
“Thank you for the advice, but I will not be doing that, because that is physically impossible and I am a normal, alive, human being who will use the door at my own leisure .”
“Whatever. Just so you’re aware, these guys usually use the upstairs bathrooms, so you could be in here a while.” With this, Sass sighed again, stepped through the door, and didn’t return.
Trevor watched the light through the tiled windows shift from orange to a dark blue, and prepared himself for the night.
-
“Thorfinn, what are you doing?”
Across the yard, Thor gleefully answered: “Small man and Thor testing boundary! See if can be crossed higher!”
Alberta descended the steps. “Thorfinn, put Trevor down now!”
“Small man consent!”
“He’s gonna get hurt!”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here! Thor, now!”
Alberta watched as Trevor went up, and back down on the same side. She gave Thor a disappointed look.
Thor wasn’t phased. “Well, Thor learn something new.”
“Did you though?” Alberta questioned. “We tried this with Flower. You just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to throw a man.”
Trevor picked himself up off the gravel. “Seriously, Thor? You told me this sounded like it would work!”
“Thor forgot. Totally.”
-
“Okay fine, you all win. You’re real.” Trevor threw his hands up in defeat as he entered the room.
“What- seriously? You believe us?” Pete sat up excitedly, only to jump when Trevor slammed his hands on the table.
“Sure. You’re all actors. Deranged actors. But this ends now .” He fished around in his pocket, but found only empty space where his money clip typically was.
Damnit, Pinkus. I tried to do the right thing, and this is what it gets me.
“Who put you up to this? Was it Ari? I swear to God- whatever. Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay you double. Triple . If you quit it right now and tell me why I can’t leave or fucking touch anything .”
He’d tried to be intimidating. To do something, anything, to command respect , to get them to listen to him, to get them to do anything but stare at him with that pitying fucking look.
“... What do you want us to say, Trev?” Alberta was back at it again, with those eyes that made him want to turn tail and try running again.
“Tell me-” Shit.
Trevor blinked back tears.
“I have a really important meeting that I’m supposed to be at in two days, and I could probably pull some strings or make up a great excuse for missing as much work as I have already, but I have to be there. I have to be there if I want this promotion, and I’ve been working so hard to make things work.” he whispered. If he spoke any louder, his voice would break and it’d all come out at once.
His words brought on a stunned silence.
“Oh, Trevor…” Isaac murmured.
“This isn’t-” Trevor choked, then laughed, as the first tear fell down his cheek, “ - funny .”
Alberta hmmed her sympathy “Of course it’s not.”
“What would you like us to do?” offered Hetty suddenly. Her voice cut through the silence, a crystal clear note. “Would you like us to telephone your work and ask if we could hold your meeting here? We’ve hosted important conferences in the past, the manor is a highly respectable establishment.”
He blinked. He hadn’t expected anything from her, much less an attempt at a solution.
The others all exchanged looks, and then reluctantly added agreements.
“It’s definitely within our ability to organize that,” offered Isaac.
“Yeah man, this place is totally groovy. Any cult leader would be thrilled to be here.”
“If it makes you happy!”
Trevor let their voices wash over him for a moment, and wiped his eyes. He didn’t know what to think.
“Thanks guys.” His voice was hoarser than he’d anticipated it being. “I don’t… I don’t think it would work. I don’t think they’d want to move everything. I don’t know if it’s worth trying. They can go on without me but… thank you anyway.”
“Of course,” Hetty responded lightly, as if they’d merely been two co-workers having a conversation on their break.
“If you want anything, just let us know,” Pete added on.
Trevor didn’t feel like returning the genuine offer with a smartass comment this time.
“I’ll… think about it.”
-
Trevor doesn’t get stuck in rooms anymore.
It’s confusing, and disorienting, and probably impossible, but he’s decided not to think about it too hard.
The doors and walls are broken too. Everything in the house is broken.
That’s just how things are now.
-
He still doesn’t know what to think of the house’s… unmarried inhabitants.
He doesn’t know if he’s ready to believe them.
-
“Play ball with me, Sass. Let’s say,” Trevor began, “hypothetically.”
“Mhm.” Sass was sitting on a chair, bathing in a sunbeam of light. Only half-listening, but Trevor was beginning to appreciate a lack of attention.
“Let’s say you guys are actually… ghosts.” As he said the word aloud, his heart flipped.
“Boo.”
Apparently, though, the admission wasn’t a big deal in the slightest to the Native American.
“If you guys are ghosts, then how…” Trevor braced himself to ask what, he knew deep down, was a stupid question, “then how come I can see you?”
This got Sass to turn and actually look at him.
“Are you stupid on purpose?”
“What- hey!”
“Sorry. I’m not in a super patient mood. What I meant to say was… what do you think?”
Trevor bit his lip. “It was those pills.”
And at that, Sass actually laughed. “Oh, man. You don’t even know.”
-
“Tell me about ghosts.”
Pete’s face lit up, a little too eagerly. “Really?”
Trevor sighed, and touched his fingers together. “Keep it short.”
“Okie-dokie! What do you wanna know?”
He shrugged. “What ghosts are and why they’re here, I guess.”
“You’ve come to the right place! Well, I’m technically the second newest ghost, so I don’t actually have as much lived, or not-lived experience as the others, so Thor might be a righter place, but-”
Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Get to the point.”
“Ghosts are the leftover energies, spirits, souls, whatever you call them, of the deceased. Most of the time, when somebody dies, their spirit goes on to the afterlife, but a rare few stay behind, here on Earth- to the best of our knowledge, this tends to be those with unfinished business, or questionable morality. Ghosts are tied to the place where they died, and have no need to eat, drink, or expel waste- and we don’t need to sleep, although generally speaking we prefer to, for some reason. We’re unable to interact with the physical world, or with the Livings, although some of us have ghostly powers that can sort of mess with that boundary-”
“Ghostly powers?” Trevor interrupted.
“Yeah, every ghost supposedly has one. It usually has something to do with your life, or how you died,” Pete continued.
“Are there like… examples?”
“Sure! Let me ask some of the others to show you what I mean.”
-
Thor’s was definitely the coolest.
-
The others probably really were ghosts. Trevor had to admit that much.
-
“Is it cool? To have a Living you can talk to?”
Trevor wasn’t fishing. He wasn’t even testing the waters. He was nowhere near the water.
Flower looked at him. “Who? Do you know someone?”
It stung a little more than he’d like to admit, but he just grumbled.
“Well, what do you know anyway.”
-
“Do you think he’s accepted it yet?”
“Hard to say. He’s asked a lot of questions, but he always seems to exclude himself in them.”
“He’s been avoiding clocks and calendars like the plague. I don’t think we’re in the clear.”
“Trevor, we can see your hand poking through the wall.”
A little humbled, Trevor stepped through to face the rest of the ghosts, having some kind of meeting about him, without him.
“I think I’m more than welcome to listen in to a conversation where people are talking about me,” he muttered.
“Trevor-” Alberta began.
“Trevor, you do know that you’re a ghost, right?” Isaac interrupted.
His heart froze.
Of course I know , part of him wanted to respond, do you think I’m stupid?
But he didn’t know. Because he wasn’t .
“Um,” was all he could manage to respond.
“That was a little more forthright than we were gonna put it,” Alberta rephrased, “but yeah. You’re a ghost. Just making sure we’re all on the same page here.”
Dead.
Well, duh.
Trevor laughed nervously. “I think you guys are getting the wrong idea.”
“Oh come on, you’re not this obtuse.” Trevor whipped his head around to face Hetty. He wasn’t sure why, but even though it was technically one of the nicest things she’d ever said about him, it felt like a betrayal.
“I hate to agree when she puts it like that,” Pete added, “but you’re a clever guy, Trevor. It’s time to face the facts.”
Trevor blinked. “No,” he said, dumbly. “No, no, no . I’m not gonna.”
“Could be worse.” Thor held his hands out in front of him. “Could have taken off all clothes.”
“No,” he breathed. “This isn’t happening.”
Flower tilted her head. “Uh oh guys. We’re losing him.”
“It’s really not all that bad! With time you’ll come to get used to it. Maybe even enjoy it.”
“Indeed, the trickiest step is coming to terms with your new afterlife. Once you’ve conquered that, the rest is… well, unavoidable.”
“We’re all here to support you. It’s just… this state of denial you’ve been living in isn’t healthy, and the longer it went on, the harder this was gonna get.”
The voices were starting to swim together, and icy water crept back into his veins.
“ No! I’m not dead! I’m fine! ”
Even you don’t believe that.
“Hey- watch out.”
You’ve known the whole time .
“Trevor, look-”
“Stop talking! Please-”
“ Move! ”
“Wh-”
Something solid- something Living , passed through him, and Trevor screamed as the vapid energies he was made up of were attacked by the sensation of actual substance.
Unaware of the chaos around her, Mrs Brimble grabbed a plate from the coffee table, and returned to the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” Pete placed a gentle hand on Trevor’s back as he clutched his sides, doubled over. His hand was slightly warm, but didn’t give off heat. As firm only as his own.
Trevor held his breath as the pain dissipated, then placed two fingers on his neck, feeling around.
Of course. It really is that simple.
“Overdose.”
Pete rubbed his back sympathetically. “Yeah.”
“...”
“... okay.”
-
He was dead.
Dead, at thirty-two.
-
It was kind of hard to actually understand, let alone process.
-
“Do you think I can get paid time off for any of this?”
Pete looked up from the cricket on the floor. “What?”
“Just wondering aloud. When I get back to work, would this count as medical leave?”
Across the room, Sass interjected.
“Buddy, you medical left . You’re not going back to work.”
Oh .
“Right.”
-
More than once, Trevor caught himself thinking Wait until I tell the guys about this.
Then.
Oh. Right.
-
“So like,” Trevor opened, “have you ever seen anyone… come back? From- this?”
He gestured vaguely up-and-down.
Isaac sniffed. “Do you mean death?”
“I guess.”
“Are you asking me if I’ve ever seen anyone… come back from death? As in, back to life.”
Trevor’s shoulders sagged. “When you put it that way.”
“No, no, it’s not a terribly idiotic question.” Isaac put a finger to his lips. “But no, I can’t say I have. I’m fairly certain it’s impossible.”
“Right. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I mean, it’s not death for no reason.”
“Right. I guess I mean just like.” Again, Trevor braced himself to ask another dumb question. “Like if someone were really good at this. I don’t know. Being a ghost thing. Can they be given, I don’t know, another chance?”
“I doubt it’s exactly what you had in mind,” Isaac answered, “but if a ghost manages to somehow overcome their unfinished business, or resolve whatever ties them to this worldly plane, a bright light will open, and they will ascend to Heaven, or whatever glorious afterlife lies beyond this one. God, we’ve got to find some way to shorten all that.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t what he’d had in mind, no. “Sure.”
-
More than once, Trevor caught himself thinking I’ve been in worse scrapes than this.
Then.
No, I probably haven’t .
-
Occasionally, Mrs Brimble would mention David’s name, and Trevor’s heart would flutter.
But for whatever reason, the once semi-frequent parties at the manor seemed to have stopped entirely.
David never came to visit.
-
It began to occur to Trevor that he really would never see them again.
-
Once, Hetty had walked in on him facedown on the couch in the upstairs room with the TV.
“Are you aware that your rear end is exposed?” she’d said, making no attempt to disguise the casual disgust in her voice.
He wasn’t in the mood to care about her judgement.
“I’ll never get to see how my stock choices perform,” Trevor mumbled into a couch cushion.
Hetty nodded. “Ah. I see. Shall I grab Peter?”
Receiving no response, she left him be.
-
It was difficult to comprehend the scale of loss he actually faced.
Instead of all at once, it wore on him.
Trevor would fantasize about the Lamborghini he planned to own someday, and realize it was never going to be his.
He’d think about visiting his parents over Hanukkah and telling them about the whole ordeal, and remember that they’d never be able to see or hear them, even if they came over.
He’d dream about sharing a penthouse with Tara Reid, and get stuck on the fact that out of the two, the penthouse was less physically possible.
He wasn’t going to grow old with her, or anyone else. He wasn’t going to get any older.
The dreams he’d spent his whole life working to achieve were now entirely unattainable, and… it was kind of his own fault.
At first, it had almost seemed like he hadn’t lost much, but the more thought he gave it, the less he realized he still had.
-
He missed food.
-
And sex.
-
And his pants.
-
“And there I was, pressed right up against the British soldier, his blade against the small of my back, my hand upon his thigh, his warm breath in my ear, when all of a sudden-”
“Do you think,” Trevor wondered aloud, “that this is punishment of some kind? I was always told what to do, how to behave, but I spent so much time ignoring it all and doing what I wanted to instead. I was lustful. Greedy. Gluttonous. Did my own actions lead me here? Undo me, by something more than just my own reckless impulses? Was it sin? Is God cruel?”
“Okay, can someone talk to this guy? He is ruining my War Tale Wednesdays!”
-
At one point, Trevor caught sight of one of the neighbor's dogs running onto the property.
He didn’t feel like explaining to anyone why he was upset.
-
“He hasn’t moved in a couple of days.”
Pete sighed. “He really doesn’t want to talk to me either. I think he’s just hoping the ground will swallow him up whole.”
Three ghosts exchanged a look.
“Is it crazy to say that I miss when he was annoying? I didn’t care for him much then, but…” Hetty frowned. “This is just depressing.”
“I’m not sure any of us ever had it this badly.” Alberta tapped against her pearls. “What can we even do?”
“Dying young is no party. For me, it took a bit of time to get over that alone. Time itself will numb things, but…” Sasappis grimaced, “it did take a while.”
“Thor confirm,” Thor confirmed. “At least Trevor have people to talk to. Thor alone for centuries. Not pleasant.”
“Guess it could be worse,” Alberta agreed.
Flower looked like she was genuinely deep in thought about something.
“It’s a real bummer,” she concluded, “to lose someone you love when you’ve been planning to spend the rest of your life with them. Probably more so when that person is you.”
“Wow. That was… strangely on the mark. Well done, Flower.” Isaac presented a mini round of applause.
“I’m sure it doesn’t help that it was the direct result of a choice he made, whether he intended it to be or not.” Pete touched a finger to the tip of his arrow. “I know the kid who caused my death didn’t mean it, but I still can’t help but blame myself for putting that guilt on her shoulders.”
“I concur. Even though it was possibly for unrelated reasons, occasionally I wonder if not advising my men to save water by leaving our hands unwashed could have led to a different outcome,” agreed Isaac.
There was a moment of contemplative silence.
Then.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Hetty? Are you sure? Haven’t you been subtly avoiding him because you’re still upset over the plates?”
Hetty pursed her lips. “Maybe. But that’s in the past. I fear I didn’t make the greatest first impression upon our new… friend, and I seek to amend it.”
Alberta put her hands up. “By all means, if you think you can help, we’ll all appreciate you for it.”
-
There was a knock on the door.
Or more accurately, the word ‘knock’ was spoken twice.
Trevor couldn’t find it in himself to answer.
“I’m going to let myself in, and if that’s not alright, you may ask me to leave. But this is my house, so if you don’t mind.”
Huh.
“Hetty?” he asked weakly.
Like the first night he’d seen her, she sat herself down on the end of the bed, ever poised and proper.
“Trevor,” she returned.
“Why are you here?”
It came out maybe a little ruder than he’d anticipated it to, but it was a genuine question. Out of all the ghosts he’d expect to visit, she was not high on the list. He was fairly sure she’d been avoiding him, actually.
Hetty sighed. “I believe I made a less-than-ladylike first impression the day we met, and I’d like to apologize.”
Huh.
Slowly, Trevor sat up. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. I believe I called you a ‘hooligan’, and proceeded to insult your inappropriate attire and vaguely threaten you.”
“Would I have called it vague?”
“The point is,” Hetty cut him off. “I’m sorry. And I don’t say that often, so cherish it.”
Even though he hadn’t really known her all that long, Trevor believed it.
But he couldn’t resist asking.
“What for?”
“For misjudging you,” Hetty clarified, “and for not giving you the time of day afterwards.”
Trevor left the silence for her to fill.
She obliged. “Before you died, I used to watch your parties. I’ve always been fond of my children, no matter how far down the line they may be, and one of the only pleasures I have left is the privilege of getting to see them. But David…”
Hetty sighed. “He was a Woodstone through and through. His love of cocaine is inherited from me. Passed straight down the family line. But at the same time, like all the Woodstone men, he was so much like Elias.”
“Elias was my husband. He was a viceful man, greedy and lustful, and I spent much of my life resenting him. I’ve spent much of my afterlife resenting every part of him that I’ve seen grow up in my boys. And watching the rest of you encourage these vices, in the very property that I spent my life dedicated to… perhaps the wires crossed in my mind.”
“It was inescapable, although I tried, eventually resorting to spending each night you came over up in my room. It’s not your fault that he evidently liked you more than some of the others, that I saw so much of you that I didn’t want to see. And now, looking back, so much of it was never even all that terrible, it was just in the wrong place, and witnessed by the wrong ghost.”
She looked him in the eyes, and Trevor realized that whatever she said next, he was meant to take as a compliment.
“But getting to know you, even in just these short months past your death, I’ve come to realize that I was mistaken. You’re not my husband. You’re just an idiot.”
“Thanks.” Trevor’s mouth was dry.
“You’re not some unfeeling demon who steps on others to get his way. You’re sensitive, open to growth and change, and there are things that you do care about. You’re stuck in a painful situation that you’ve landed yourself in, and maybe you’ve done things to deserve it, but you’re calling out for help, and you deserve that too. You’re not evil; you’re just a city boy with a reckless love of sensual pleasure.”
Hetty sighed again, this time from somewhere deeper. “I suppose, in some ways, we are the ones who are not all that dissimilar to each other.”
Huh.
Trevor watched as she twirled her fingers nervously, evidently deciding whether or not to share something. After a few moments, she came to a decision.
“My death was my own fault too.”
And there was a weight behind her words that was almost tangible.
Hetty averted her eyes. “Overdose, as well. Apparently, there is such a thing as ‘too much morphine’.”
Hesitantly, Trevor reached a hand over and was surprised when Hetty let him rest it on her thigh.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. And he meant it.
“It’s incredibly difficult,” she continued, “spending eternity knowing that if you’d made only one decision differently, things wouldn't have ended up the way they did. That there’s really no one else to blame.”
When she looked back at him, there were tears in her eyes too.
“I hate pity. I despise being looked at like I’m a wounded animal, like I didn’t chew off my own leg. I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it,” she whispered.
“And I can tell that it doesn’t do much for you either. So I’m not here to pity you, or tell you that I can do anything to fix what you’re feeling. All I can say is that to some degree, I know how it feels to be where you are. And despite what it looks like,” she continued, wiping her eyes, “it can get better. The other ghosts are really lovely people. But that doesn’t change the fact that it sucks now.”
Trevor wanted to grace her with an incredibly eloquent reply that described all his feelings just as deeply.
“Yeah,” he said.
Hetty nodded, and he knew she understood.
“I know it’s typical of me to say, but.” She rested her hand atop his, and politely averted her gaze so as to not see anything below his lapel. “I am here for you.”
“That actually really does mean a lot, coming from you. Thanks, Hetty.”
Hetty smiled, and it was the first time Trevor had ever seen her do so. It was gorgeous.
“Anytime. Although,” she remarked, standing up to take her leave. “I do wish you’d died with pants on.”
Caught by surprise, Trevor laughed, to which Hetty’s eyes twinkled.
“You should smile more,” were her parting words. “It looks nice on you.”
With that, she was gone.
-
“Whatever you said, Hetty, I think it worked.”
“I told him to chin up and leave the overly emotional theatrics to us women. It’s unmanly to cry.”
“Sure you did.”
-
Things weren’t perfect, or even linear, but Trevor was starting to find his place.
He wasn’t happy, not really, but he was starting to get up and around more often. He was getting to know the other ghosts, with the expectation that they were going to be his afterlife long friends. He was getting used to the routines of the house.
But he still couldn’t help but feel like something was missing .
-
It had been one of those days where things were worse than normal.
Trevor had been mourning every facet of the life he’d lost, and today, he was sad about the minutia.
There were great big things to be sad about, and sure, he’d been plenty sad about all those. He was definitely going to be even sadder about them in future.
But you never realize how much a simple task like opening a door makes you feel human until you can’t do it anymore.
He missed being alive. He missed it sorely .
Even if he was trying to come to terms with the new normal, it didn’t change that every day he woke up with a sharp pain in his heart reminding him of everything he’d never have.
And it hurt like a bitch .
His new friends were lovely, but there were times when Trevor would sell out each one of them just for one more day. Now was one of those times.
He was sitting on the couch in the living room, not far from where he died. The sun shone through the windows, and he was cold.
He had to do something . He couldn’t go on like this.
On the coffee table, the remains of Mr Brimble's morning tea had been left out to attract ants. Half a cookie sat on a plate beside a china teacup that had been used to hold coffee. Only a quarter-inch of coffee was left, pooled at the bottom.
Who Trevor wouldn’t sacrifice for even half a cookie and coffee.
He wasn’t thirsty, he wasn’t hungry, not anymore, but God what he’d do to even just be able to hold them and pretend he was.
He reached out, and his fingers went through the teacup. Frustrated, he drew back, clenching his fist.
Trevor closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
“Come on,” he whispered through gritted teeth.
He extended his hand again.
I need this. I need to be a part of this world. Please.
His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as he willed it into existence.
The silence of the morning was disturbed by the slightest of sounds:
Clink.
China on china. The coffee rippled.
Trevor’s eyes widened.
-
“My money’s on the spider to secure a just and swift victory.”
“Isaac will lose. Thor know mantis unforgiving predator.”
“Thor’s right. Praying mantis are vicious, and can kill and eat insects and birds much larger than them.”
“God, this is boring .”
“Guys! GuysGuysGuysGuysGuys!” The ghosts’ attention was torn away from the thrilling insect match by Trevor barreling into the room at mach speeds, grinning .
“The hell are you smiling about?” Alberta composed herself. “Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Have we ever seen Trev smile?”
“First time, Thor believe.”
“Oh, definitely,” Hetty confirmed, smiling herself.
“Guysyouarenotgoingto believe this!” Trevor gestured wildly, making sure he had all the ghosts’ attention.
Pete gave him the all clear. “We’re all ears!”
“I can touch stuff !” he exclaimed proudly.
You could hear a pin drop.
“ What? ” asked Isaac.
“I can touch actual physical objects! Like, real things! I think it’s my ghostly power. It takes a helluva lot of concentration, and I can’t do much, but come with me!”
The ghosts followed Trevor as he raced back to the living room, and gathered them around the couch.
“You’re gonna wanna be quiet, so you can hear it happen.”
Every one of them obliged. Trevor held his finger up and began to strain.
Clink .
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Alberta concluded.
“Nice job, Trevor! I’m proud of you!” Pete beamed.
“Not as cool as electricity, but pretty cool,” Thor added.
Hetty looked aghast. “You better stay away from the rest of my fine china, young man.”
“Isn’t this baller?” Trevor was practically jumping up and down. “I can actually move stuff! I could probably even communicate with the Livings, if I really wanted to. This is so sick.”
“Well, we are glad to see you in better spirits,” Isaac resolved.
Flower nodded. “Well done, Thomas.”
“Thank you all. I’m going to go practice, and see if I can knock anything over.” Trevor bowed sagely, and practically skipped out of the room.
Once he was gone, Isaac scoffed.
“He can barely move a teacup, what could he possibly achieve with a ghost power like that?”
Hetty elbowed him. “What’s important is that he’s actually displayed his first positive emotion in months of being stuck here, Isaac. Don’t squander it over semantics.”
“Alright. But seriously, when is that ever going to be useful?”
-
“So, when someone does something good or resolute, they… get transported via beam of light into the afterlife?”
Isaac sighed. “Exactly that. Although, we still haven’t found a way to put it succinctly.”
Trevor nodded thoughtfully. “When they go to the afterlife, how exactly do they get there?”
“The beam of light appears, and they go up,” Hetty clarified.
“So in a way, they’re getting… sucked off, to Heaven.”
Isaac clicked his tongue. “Hmm.”
Hetty side-eyed him. “Sucked off. What do we think of that?”
“I think…” The soldier looked back to the youngest ghost, who was doing his best to look entirely innocent. “I think we’ve found the missing phrase. Well done, rookie.”
Trevor bit back a smile. “It’s my pleasure, really.”
Hetty sighed. “God, I hope to get sucked off someday. … yep, that works a treat.”
Isaac nodded. “Let’s go spread the word then, shall we?”
“Let’s.” The two of them left Trevor alone, where he started to snicker immaturely.
“Oh, that’s good,” he mused to himself. “Surely one of the other ghosts will pick up on it, but imagine if it stuck?”