“Marijuana?” When I nodded, you said, “You shouldn’t be doing drugs.”
I rolled my eyes because you sounded like an afterschool special. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Henri. I just got my ass kicked, and you cut off a guy’s finger. I think we both need to decompress.”
The way you looked at me felt like you were trying to read my mind. “You’re probably right,” you said at last and smiled shyly.
I grabbed some snacks from the cupboard, then glanced back at you. “You’re not going to try to suck my blood or anything, are you?”
You chuckled at that. I wasn’t totally joking.
“No, I won’t.”
“Awesome.”
We went into my room and I fetched my supplies. We sat in a couple of beanbag chairs on the floor like any two normal teenagers, and I rolled a joint. But the energy in the room was different, a low hum that made my nerve endings extra sensitive. Colors seemed brighter and even my senses of smell and taste were stronger. Could you feel it too?
“How come I can hear you and no one else can?” I asked. “When you’re not in a body, I mean.”
“Some humans have preternatural sensitivities. Perhaps you are a medium.”
“When I was a kid, I could see you too.”
You nodded. Your eyes hadn’t left my face the entire time. I didn’t mind it though. I liked having your attention.
“That’s rare, and it usually fades with age.”
“I thought I was crazy.”
“People use that term erroneously. Oftentimes, it’s just a difference in perception.”
“Deep.” I tried to blow it off. This whole experience had been crazy, in the most literal sense of the word. And I was definitely hearing shit. “I think I need therapy.”
“Because of Roger?”
My mood instantly darkened.
“Don’t say his name.” You nodded, and I felt bad for being so harsh. “And no. Because I’m talking to a ghost inhabiting a human body.”
“More like a spirit,” you corrected. “Or a disembodied soul. And I wasn’t always this way.”
You were so matter-of-fact about it. You cracked me up sometimes with the loony shit you said. And you knew my deepest secrets—there weren’t many. But the two times in my life when I really needed someone, you were there.
“What were you before?” I asked.
“I had a body once…” You drifted off. Your eyes were unfocused, remembering something that seemed painful.
“What’s the difference between a spirit and a soul?” I asked. It felt safer than asking what happened to your body.
“A soul is the spirit contained within a body. It connects to the spiritual world but is ruled by physical needs. A spirit is further removed from the desires of the flesh.”
“Desires of the flesh… like sex?” I licked the seam of the joint to seal it, taking my time with my tongue to see how you’d react. Your steady gaze followed my every movement like there might be a test on it later. Interesting.
“Sex is one. Also, food, shelter, safety, intimacy, comfort…”
“We are social animals,” I agreed. “What do you miss most about not having a body?”
“Everything,” you said with so much sadness and longing. Your shoulders drooped and you withdrew into your own head again.
Seeing you like that and hearing a little bit about your life, I felt sad as hell for you. I lit the joint and took a couple of primer puffs before handing it over. You sucked in too deep and nearly coughed up a lung. I slapped your back a couple of times, more out of sympathy than anything else.
