Seth shrugs and shadows start to circle around his legs, working their way up to wrap around his torso as they pick up speed, “I move fast, buddy.”
A frown pulls at my mouth and I start to say something, but Seth cuts me off. “And hey, don’t be jealous. I would have asked you out to coffee but ya know…” He gestures toward my ghostly form and scowls. “Cock blocked by a witch.”
“Uhm, I don’t know what normally happens when you go to coffee, but my pants stay firmly in place, Seth.”
He casually waves a hand in the air in dismissal, “potato, pah-tah-toe.” He’s almost fully shrouded in shadow now, and leans forward quickly, his face suddenly serious. “If you change your mind, just call for me.”
My chest clenches momentarily, his sincere extension of friendship has filled part of the gaping wound Leona left behind, but I trusted her with everything I had, everything I was. It’ll take time before I get comfortable letting down the walls I’ve inadvertently been building up for the past fifty years. But, for the first time in so many years, I want to. I look into the swirling shadows that have started to recede in on themselves and shout, “Thank you.”
A faint laugh sounds out as the shadows dissipate and I smile to myself, feeling hopeful that between Trissa and Seth my next fifty years will look nothing like the previous half century.
Chapter seven
Good Girl
Trissa
Today was a good day. I’m exhausted, and my body is screaming in protest, but I feel accomplished, and that’s not a feeling I enjoy very often. I settle down on my lucky couch with a steaming cup of tea and carefully tuck the blanket from my ghost over my lap. The heat from my cup feels so nice against my slightly chilled hands. This small moment of perfect peace coaxes a smile from my lips.
The movers came soon after I finished showering. It didn’t take them long to unload my personal effects, but the addition of all the boxes the estate has had in storage all this time made for a lot more than I was expecting, and now my poor dining room slash craft room is bursting at the seams with towers of boxes. Thankfully I was able to Cashzap them a tip, seeing as all the money I had set aside was stolen. I take a sip of my tea and sigh, closing my eyes against the unbidden sting of tears. All the righteous anger I felt earlier has fizzled out into a conflicted haze of indecision that sits heavy on my heart.
I know common practice now is to cut out the toxic people, but what if in doing so you end up alone? I haven’t let myself get super close to many people, and Kyle has been in my life since before the accident. When my amaxophobia continued to get worse, and my friend group grew smaller and smaller, he stayed. And I mean really, at what point do all my hang-ups and issues make me toxic to other people? Maybe I’m the problem, and I’m lucky that he and Gabbi even still come around. Hot, wet tracks run down my cheeks and I feel a familiar tightness in my chest that takes my breath away. Damn it. Why do I do this to myself? This was a good day.
I take a long drink from my cup and pull my phone out of my pocket, desperate to distract myself from that depressing line of thought. I open my email and scroll down to the new message the estate sent after we spoke briefly on the phone. My stomach flutters with nerves again as I hesitate, my thumb hovering just over the screen. The lady on the phone earlier was friendly and assured me that she would be more than happy to send over the details of the contract and answer any additional questions I may have about the estate, but somehow it all feels more intimidating in written word… more real. I sit up a little straighter on the couch and down the rest of my tea before resting the empty cup in a little nest of bunched-up blanket. My free hand rubs the couch for luck while my phone hand opens the email.
Anne Crone
To: Trissa Wilde
Subject: Wilde Estate
Good Afternoon,
I’ll attach a link to our secure server where you can view the full contract, but just to summarize it for you without all the technical mumbo-jumbo—if you fulfill the six month trial period in the house, full control of your very sizableinheritance, including the house, will be transferred over to you. You may choose to retain our services to help you manage things, but you have no such obligation to do so.
If you do not successfully complete the full six months in the home, everything will remain managed by the estate, and your usual monthly allowance will be given for three months while you search for a job, after which your allowance will drop by half. After one full year of gainful employment, proof of an obtained driver’s license, and completion of a financial management training course, the estate will transfer full control of your inheritance to you… however the house will be forfeited to the care of Glamour Estates.
If you have any further questions just let me know!
Blessings,
Anne Crone
I stare slack jawed at my phone as I re-read the email for the fifth time. That’s it? What happens if I don’t complete the requirements of option two? A driver’s license. A humorless laugh that’s shrill with panic escapes me. I’m stuck here… not that I was planning to leave, but this confirms it. A pang of unease flits through me as I think about what that may mean for my sexual interludes with the ghost. If things go badly, I can’t just leave. I shiver against that inauspicious thought while a traitorous heat curls low in my gut. I am mentally unwell. Why does being trapped in a house by these terms as absolutely as if I was tied down with physical bonds excite me?
I chew on my lip and glance around the room. I haven’t felt my invisible housemate since this morning and despite knowing that it’s probably an utterly terrible idea, nothing would make me feel better right now than a distraction. Preferably of the steamy ghost sex kind.
“Casper? You here?” I lean back against the couch to wait, but nothing happens. Well, shit. My phone dings and I glance downat the screen. Kyle’s name flashes in my notifications and I purse my lips, still not sure what I want to do with that whole situation. I glance around the room again, silently begging my ghost to show up and grab my attention so that I can pretend I have an excuse not to deal with this right now. Still nothing. I roll my shoulders and press call before I lose what little nerve I have.
“Why are you ignoring me, Triss?” Kyle’s voice is whiny and a little wobbly.
“I’ve had movers here all day, Kyle. Movers that I had no cash to tip, by the way. So thanks for that.” I mentally kick myself for getting accusatory right out of the gate. My emotions are all over the place and my stomach is in knots because I can’t decide if my anger is worth the guilt trip I’m setting myself up for.
Kyle scoffs and yells, “I told you it was to clean my car, babe!” His voice turns pleading and I curse at how pathetic he sounds. I’m a sucker for this crap and he knows it. “C’mon Triss, don’t do this. I was just trying to do something nice and didn’t think you would mind, seeing as it was your snot all over the seat.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Kyle…” My throat closes up and I feel a little sick. I don’t want to alienate him, but I need to stop being such a damn pushover and actually set some boundaries. I try again, “Kyle, I think we… I think maybe we should like… cool things off for a while. You know, just be friends.”
“What the fuck Trissa, are you serious right now?” The change in his attitude is palpable even through the phone, and a shudder goes down my spine.
