Short Stories: Long Way Around the Short End. James Hill
that,” she continues, “your feelings can change from the ones you had in real life. The ones I had for Jody are more neutral now. And who knows what he would feel for me now? There’s no way to say if we could rebuild a relationship by meeting here.”
I gaze into her deep, dark, lovely eyes. “Unless Jody got his brains scrambled in his accident, he would be hard-pressed to explain why he parted with such beauty.”
“You are so sweet, John,” she says and glides over beside me and kisses my cheek.
The kiss is like a charge to my internal motor. The initial contact is very cold but intensely hot at the same time. If that doesn’t make much sense to you, I’m sorry, but that’s the only way I can describe it. It spreads a warmth throughout my nerve fibers and does other things to me mentally and physically, like being stung by a jellyfish or snakebit in the brain, but in a way that feels so sensual. Still not making much sense.
For the second time tonight, I am excited. A straitlaced man addicted to a wondrous new drug, waiting for the next fix.
She moves around and gives me another one on the lips, more passionately this time. The coldness of her lips brings a numbing sensation followed by a pleasant warmness that settles in special places. It could be the feeling of slowly being poisoned.
When she pulls away from me, she says, “Oh, John, I’m so excited. Are you?”
I nod my head weakly.
“Let’s see how much so.”
The bluish glow that emanates around her dims somewhat, and her white robe disappears, displaying the most perfect female form I have ever seen.
“You like?”
Again, all I can do is manage a weak nod.
Suddenly, my clothes have vanished as well. I see them over on the reclining chair, folded neatly, even the tops of my socks rolled together the way I do them.
I feel shock, the coolness of the room on the back of my neck, but no embarrassment.
“Oh, yes. My John is definitely excited. Come,” she says. Amy takes my hand, pulls me up, and leads me over to the couch.
I still haven’t found any words to speak, not sure I could if I did. She gently pushes me all the way down and slides on top of me. The rest of what happens is a little hazy, but I do remember thinking how ridiculous it would look in a house with ceilinged mirrors. I’m pretty sure she would not give off a reflection, leaving me lying naked on the sofa, my love wand upright, hands holding onto nothing, and my arms making a large zero in the air with my face showing sexual gratification. Laughable…right?
* * * * *
I awaken the next morning, groggy as from lack of sleep, believing that such a realistic dream must have caused my fitful rest.
Then, I find the note inside my pants pocket:
My dearest John. For the first time since being in my transition, you showed me what I miss from having a real life. Last night, I experienced the emotions of feeling, of needing, of caring again. And most of all, the real thrill of what true lovemaking can bring.
I hope you are feeling the same way this morning. And I hope we can keep our appointment for tonight. Who knows? By your showing me how life can truly be, maybe I can come back again.
PS: I’ve found and eaten every spider in this house so no harm will come to you tonight.
I fold the letter in a state of shock and confusion and put it in my nightstand drawer. I begin getting dressed.
Appointment? What have I promised Amy, a young murdered woman who is now a needing, wanting spirit?
After slipping my shoes on, I travel back to the nightstand and open the drawer again. The paper is still there, and I unfold it to see that the words are still the same. This is confirmation for me that I am back in reality again.
Come back again. Have I crossed the line between the afterlife and this real one? By making love to a troubled presence, have I shown her a pathway for coming back to this world and living out her life? Surely this isn’t the first time such an incident has occurred…or is it?
The questions are endless as are the possibilities. And who can answer these questions, and how would you go about finding out? I guess this is one situation that has to be played by ear. But I have to admit that the outcome could be fascinating or scary—take your pick.
Anyway, I go about my day in the same usual way. But I think of Amy at various times, ask myself more questions at other times, and come to two conclusions by day’s end: I have to be with Amy again, and there are no more answers to any more questions.
* * * * *
Night has fallen, and I’m sitting at my bedroom window staring across at the neighboring one. It’s not long until I see the blue glow appear. At first it flutters about the house, making its way through each room as if just getting home. Then, it settles in the window across from me and says in a voice that I’m sure is telepathic rather than audible: “My dear John, I have missed you so much. Are you coming over tonight?”
I waste no time in getting there. No sooner do I close the front door behind me, the presence pushes me against it with her knees straddling my waist. She tells me it’s good to see that I have missed her too and gives me another cold and hot kiss that numbs my tongue and warms my heart.
We engage in our second round of lovemaking, and I’m not as entranced this time and able to remember much more about it. Not only is it a sexual experience that is otherworldly, but it is all-encompassing. Whereas normal sex is performed for its physical pleasure, ghost loving is more spiritual with a feeling of want and need. It’s hard to explain really: even though the warmth of body heat is missing, you still get the physical excitement, and by the act itself, I guess the spirit gains a physical aspect it has been missing. And by doing so, you gain a more complete love: one that is more spiritual for you, one that intensifies and fulfills any void in the soul of the spirit.
* * * * *
Every night for one week straight, I have enjoyed some of the best loving on this world or anywhere else. But as the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end. So, I decide to rest on the eighth night.
On the ninth night, I’m back at my window waiting to see the blue glow. After a time and none appears, I figure Amy is needing a break too. I start getting ready for bed.
I’m having another peaceful sleep; although, I drifted off with a tinge of disappointment. Somewhere during the early part of it, that inner voice comes to me, My dear John, have you forsaken me? I wanted to see you again before I depart.
Even though it comes to me in a dreamlike manner, I know by now it’s not, and my eyes pop open immediately. I’m fearful she means moving on to the next phase in the afterlife, and I dress in a hurry. I grab the flashlight and run next door. Amy is standing by the kitchen table when I enter the house.
“Hey, baby,” she says with a smile on her face, with it more aglow than the rest of her. “I was beginning to think you had grown tired of me.”
I look at her fondly, relieved that I had not missed her. “I could never grow tired of you, Amy.”
She looks at me sadly. “That’s why it hurts me to have to tell you this.” She pats the back of the dining-room chair. “Have a seat, John.”
I take it saying, “I understand your having to move on to the next phase of your spiritual life. I knew it would come, but you showed me how wonderful true love can be.”
“It’s true,” she says. “I am wanted to move to another phase, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
I look at her in a curious way. “How’s that?” I ask.
“I ran into Jody…he was passing through my stage.”
“That’s good,” I tell her. “I’m glad you were able to be reacquainted.