“"Like writing ‘'Boo!’' on a steamed-up mirror the way Patrick Swayze did in Ghost?”" Bethanny asked.
“"If you can fog it up, sister, then you should write all over it,”" Ruby confirmed. “"It’'s one thing for them to think you’'re there. It’'s quite another for you to deliver proof and watch them jump through their skin. Just remember to plug yourself in first so that you have enough energy to physically operate in the world of the living.”"
“"I’'m looking forward to being a ghost,”" Danny remarked. “"I can do whatever I want, whenever I want to. I can ride a bus for free, I can go to the movies for free, see a band for free, and I never, ever have to take a shower. I can’'t wait.”"
Lucy silently agreed. She couldn’'t wait to get to her destination so she could finally settle in someplace for a while. She hoped that she would be assigned to Alice, because if anyone needed help, it was her sister, and that was help Lucy was more than happy to give. Sure, she’'d direct Alice to find rings, car keys, spare change that has sunk below the cushions. She could even get all charged up and maybe clean the house for her sister while she was at work; Alice was so harried, she’'d never even notice. Maybe she could guide Jared with homework, or perhaps fend off a bully. Lucy was excited now about the assignment. She had to be going to Alice’'s; where else could she possibly be assigned? That was someplace she wouldn’'t mind hanging out for a while, and, in a way, that had sort of been the plan all along.
“"Don’'t get too comfortable, young man,”" Ruby warned. “"As much as you think you’'ll like mixing it up back on your home turf, you’'ll have a more glorious existence in The State. You might like being back on the living plane for now, but your goal needs to be making it to your forever level.”"
“"Have you ever been there?”" Danny asked.
“"Do you know what it’'s like?”" Elliot questioned.
“"Do they have cosmetic procedures there?”" the countess wondered aloud. “"They have to have wonderful doctors.”"
Ruby shook her head and shrugged. “"I’'ll be truthful,”" she replied. “"I was there for a very short time. But I will tell you that it was the most beautiful place I had ever been. It was lovely and tranquil and calm. It was everything I had hoped an eternity would be. However, it is different for everyone, because everyone is different. No two spirits experience it the same way, so I can’'t really tell you what it will be like for you. But I can tell you that you will be glad you are there. It’'s everything you could ever want or need.”"
“"I don’'t understand why you didn’'t stay, then,”" Bethanny piped up. “"Why come back and teach?”"
Ruby laughed a light, choppy little laugh. “"Oh, dear,”" she responded. “"Because I did not make it to The State. It was simply shown to me as an incentive to come and teach for a little bit before I moved on. I came here, where I was needed more, instead of going back to the living plane to haunt. And with that little story, I have a surprise for some of you.”"
The instructor went back behind her lectern, and then reemerged with several boxes that she presented to Bethanny, Elliot, and the countess.
Bethanny looked as delighted as a child opening the biggest box on Christmas morning. She beamed when she held up her flowing silken White Lady gown, draping it across her so the rest of the class could get an idea of exactly how ethereal she planned on being.
Elliot blushed when he opened his box, and smiled widely. The first thing he pulled out of the box was a leather sandal with what looked like ropes hanging from each side, then what appeared to be a ladies’' white tennis outfit, and then a knee-length linen cape with a little braided belt that did, indeed, match his shoes.
“"Wow,”" Chuck said, hesitating. “"Are you …... John Belushi in Animal House?”"
“"No.”" Elliot giggled gleefully. “"I’'m Socrates! I’'m a thinking ghost!”"
The countess had not opened her box, but left it closed on her lap, her arms holding on to it, almost like straps.
“"Mrs. Wootig, aren’'t you going to show the class?”" Ruby asked her.
“"No,”" she replied quickly. “"I’'d rather try it on in my room.”"
“"I can guarantee you that it will fit,”" Ruby added. “"It was custom-made for you.”"
“"Come on,”" cajoled Kirk, who was sitting next to her. “"Let us see it.”"
The countess shook her head adamantly.
“"Fair is fair,”" Elliot squealed, pretending to whip her with his little tiny belt. “"I showed you mine!”"
“"I don’'t think so,”" she countered immediately, holding the box tighter.
“"Come on,”" Kirk laughed. “"Let us see. I’'ll bet you picked something out from the Princess Diana line.”"
The countess said nothing but firmly shook her head and kept shaking it until Kirk quickly and nimbly snatched the box from her lap and ran several seats away with it, where he popped off the top and began digging. From her seat, Lucy couldn’'t see anything but flashes of bright pink and what looked like feathers.
A Muppet? she thought. The countess was going to haunt as a Muppet? Where was she assigned to, Sesame Street?
“"Kirk, give that back,”" the countess demanded, standing up, her arms running straight down her sides, curled up at the end in little rocklike fists.
“"Oh, come on, Vicki, I’'m just taking a peek!”" he said, laughing.
Vicki? Lucy thought as she sat up. Vicki? The countess is a Vicki? Who said Vicki? When did she say Vicki?
Kirk continued to chuckle as Vicki Wootig stood motionless, watching, becoming more and more scarlet by the moment until she resembled a red potato. She tried to grab her outfit away from Kirk’'s grasp as he lifted the pink birded mess up for all to see and it unfolded as a transparent, silken lady robe with a flock of marabou feathers that Lucy and Bethanny both recognized as the issue for a Gold Rush Brothel Madam.
Lucy was forced to avert her eyes while the rest of the class sucked in a collective gasp.
“"KIRK!”" Vicki said harshly, and stomped her foot. He then gasped and bunched it back up, and together, Kirk and Vicki fumbled to shove it back into the box.
“"Somehow, I don’'t think Vicki was counting on being alone in her room when she tried that on later,”" Lucy whispered to her petite blond friend.
“"Talk about ghost love.”" Bethanny shuddered. “"Can ghosts barf?”"
“"I wish they could, dear,”" Ruby replied.
In a huff, Vicki plucked the box from Kirk’'s grasp and looked around the room as if she was nonplussed.
“"What?”" she demanded of all of them as she frantically shrugged. “"What? So what if they exploded and killed me. I paid for them, and I’'ll be damned if I’'m not going to get any use out of them!”"
Vicki then stomped back to her seat, where she sat down in an exasperated huff.
“"They were brand goddamned new,”" she growled.
The class sat quietly in the rich moment while Countess Vicki avoided everyone’'s eyes.
“"All right, then,”" Ruby finally said, sealing the moment with a clap. “"Tomorrow’'s your big day. I’'m very proud of all of you, and I know you’'re going to be effective, wonderful ghosts. I’'m sorry I didn’'t get to meet any of you until we were all dead, but I hope to see you all in The State very soon, or at least when my teaching assignment has concluded. Deal?”"
“"Deal!”" her students enthusiastically agreed, except for Vicki, who was still looking everywhere anyone wasn’'t.
“"Tomorrow, you’'ll find out your assignments,”" Ruby concluded with a smile. “"I hope each one of them is a place you want to be.”"
chapter eleven That’'s a Lot of Kissing for a Sister
Lucy’'s cheek itched.
Still half-asleep, she reached up to scratch it, and felt something odd under her head. It was rough, nubby, and irritating. It felt almost like burlap, and Lucy quite quickly realized that it wasn’'t her pillow her head was resting on, and it wasn’'t her bed i
n room number 895 she was lying in.
Her eyes flew open, and the first thing she saw was blurry lines of white and orange slicing through a dull brownish background, the lines of whatever her face was smooshed into. Lucy then recoiled, because whatever it was, it stank. Concentrated notes of mustiness, age, dust, pet, and general unpleasantness lingered around her head like a stink fog. She instantly sat up to escape the stench, and realized she had been lying on an fraying burlap couch that was every bit as old as she was.
It was a couch that people had obviously spent countless hours on, reading books, flipping through channels, and watching rented movies with a bowl of popcorn nestled in between them. It was the kind of couch that a dog would have no problems lumbering up onto to take a nice afternoon nap, and the kind of couch where if something spilled on it, it wasn’'t even close to a tragedy, and it was maybe not even worth cleaning it up. The kind of couch that was miserable to sleep on, as the middle sagged and the spring on the left side shot up with a loud announcement every time an occupant rose from the cushion, which was battered and becoming threadbare in the middle.
Lucy hated this couch. Lucy loathed the couch. It was uncomfortable, smelly, and old, and she had come to the conclusion that having no couch at all was better than having this couch.
She knew because it was her couch that she woke up on, plopped right in the middle of Martin’'s dark paneled living room.
In complete disbelief, Lucy laughed disgustedly and shook her head. Well, this is a nasty trick, she thought. Par for the course. You have got to be kidding me. She had almost fully convinced herself that she’'d be assigned to Alice and she had gotten her hopes up. She should have known that death was going to be a little bit more unaccommodating than that, a little more sneaky than placing Lucy in the spot where she could really do the most good. And to just plop her on the couch was almost snotty. She’'d thought at least she’'d have a chance to say goodbye to her classmates, particularly Bethanny, and to say thank you to Ruby. But nope. They’'d just thrown her ghost ass out on the sofa and left her. Somebody obviously thought they knew better. When Ruby had mentioned that they would find out what their assignments were in the morning, Lucy had hardly thought it would be because she would simply wake up in it.
I just can’'t believe it, Lucy thought, and snickered sarcastically, feeling astoundingly betrayed. What the hell am I doing here? I’'m supposed to be doing good here? For Martin? Martin, the most reliable, sensible, plainspoken man on the face of the earth? Martin, who’'d never needed a helping hand from anyone the entire time she had known him? Martin, Mr. Point A to Point B? Martin, who had kicked her out of their house without one single word of explanation? You mean the man who hadn’'t bothered to even show his face at her funeral?
“"This is just a nightmare,”" Lucy spat angrily at no one. She was gritting her teeth together when she heard a spastic snore erupt from the other end of the couch. Looking toward the sound, she couldn’'t help but instantly smile when she heard another snort and saw Tulip, who lay curled up and snoozing at her feet.
“"Tulip,”" Lucy whispered. “"Tulip!”"
The sleeping dog twitched a little, and Lucy hoped that Ruby was right—--that some animals could sense, see, and hear spirits. She reached over and tickled the bottom of Tulip’'s hind paw, and the dog automatically flinched and pulled it back. Lucy smiled again, knowing Tulip had felt her. Lucy scratched the dog’'s belly lightly, just enough to touch the dog’'s fur without pressing too hard and falling through. Within several moments, Tulip’'s eyes began to flutter and she opened them slowly, glancing over at the owner of the wonderful hand that was delivering such a delightful belly rub. She raised her head slightly, simply peering over, and then in one sudden, momentous movement, she was leaping toward Lucy with tail wagging and excited, happy pants.
“"Oh, my sweet girl,”" Lucy said as she scratched both sides of Tulip’'s face, trying to be careful. With a sudden jerk, the dog passed right through her arm and then pounced through Lucy’'s torso.
“"You goofball!”" Lucy laughed, gloriously happy to see her best friend again. “"I have missed you so much! So much! Have you been a good girl? Huh? Huh? You’'re always a good girl, my little sweetheart. How I have missed you!”"
By Tulip’'s exuberant response of licks meant for Lucy’'s face that passed into thin air, and her continued prancing, Lucy knew that Tulip had missed her, too. It seemed like a thousand years had passed since she had said goodbye to her friend through the plate glass window of the living room as the sun was setting and it was getting dark.
“"I’'m sorry I didn’'t come to get you,”" Lucy apologized. The smile in the dog’'s eyes made Lucy want to melt. “"But I told you I’'d come back, and see? I did!”"
Lucy swore that Tulip was smiling. The dog tried to lick her face again, and got even more excited when Lucy laughed.
“"Tulip! What’'s going on in there?”" Lucy heard someone call from the kitchen. “"Come on, girl. You need to go outside?”"
It was Martin. Lucy had hoped he wouldn’'t be awake yet so she would have just a little bit of time to get a handle on being back in this house before she had to see him. It was still somewhat dark. Only slivers of sunlight had begun to break through the windows.
With the promise of a venture outside, Tulip leapt off the couch and headed for the hallway, then stopped and looked behind her, just to make sure Lucy was coming, too.
“"I’'m coming, I’'m coming,”" Lucy reassured her as she got up from the couch, half expecting to hear the spring pop back up, and a little surprised when she didn’'t. She suddenly realized she smelled coffee; it had been such a long time since she had even thought about coffee, let alone smelled it. Used to be every morning she wouldn’'t even be able to speak until she’'d had at least half a cup, infused with two teaspoons of sugar and a huge gulp of vanilla Coffee-mate. Now the smell of coffee was familiar but distant, almost like a waft of cigarette smoke to someone who had kicked the habit.
Lucy padded into the hallway after her dog until Tulip was a step away from the entryway of the kitchen and stopped. Again, Tulip turned around to make sure Lucy was behind her, and when she saw Lucy still in the hallway, she gave a tiny whine.
“"All right, all right,”" Martin said, and Lucy heard the scrape of his chair scooting back along the linoleum floor. “"Hang on, Miss Tulip. I’'m comin’'.”"
And then, suddenly, there was Martin as he passed right before Lucy to let Tulip out the back door, his closely cropped flattop still neatly buzzed, his ruddy cheeks still rosy and vibrant. He was wearing the robe Lucy had bought him for Christmas the year before, a blue and cream plaid flannel with navy piping. Lucy had always thought it looked nice on him, and she saw that it still did. It made him look warm and dependable, like the Martin she thought she had known.
Coffee cup in hand, Martin shuffled to the back door and opened it for Tulip, who kept hesitating and looking back. She would start to go through the door, then pull back, looking to see if Lucy was coming, too.
“"Go on,”" Lucy whispered, waving her fingertips forward in an effort to let the dog know she was okay.
“"Go on, Tulip,”" Martin said, half laughing. “"In or out? What are you looking at? Did you forget a bone back there?”"
Martin turned and headed down the hall, and within three steps, he was there, right next to Lucy, who had pressed herself up against the wall.
“"I don’'t see anything,”" he concluded as he searched the floor with his eyes, then flipped on the hall light. Lucy winced, convinced he could see her. “"Nope. There’'s nothing here, Tuly.”"
He turned the light off, headed back to the kitchen, and gently scooted the dog outside with his hand on her fanny. “"Just go potty and you can come right back in,”" he coaxed. Tulip obliged, and with one final look back, she went out the back door, which Martin then closed.
Still in the hall, Lucy leaned against the wall as she watched him refill his coffee from a coffee
maker she had bought on sale at Penney’'s right after they had moved in together. It made terrible coffee, and the handle had broken off from the lip of the glass pot within a week of her buying it. By then, she had lost the receipt, couldn’'t return it, and was stuck with it. Which was fine. Martin didn’'t mind. He’'d just click it back into place and watch it spring off midway as he was pouring, which would leave a little coffee spill every time.
Martin shuffled over to the kitchen table and sat back down in the aluminum chair, made to look like a vintage fifties diner set with curved corners and red plastic upholstery that boasted glitter in it if you looked hard enough. Lucy moved to the opposite wall of the hallway so she could see him.
He looked fine, she noticed. He looked regular. He still looked just like Martin. Nothing had changed about him, not one thing. Everything about Lucy had changed, including her “"alive”" status, but Martin, he was a constant. He did not look like a man who had thrown his wife-to-be out of the house without explanation, and he certainly did not look like a man who had thrown his wife-to-be out of the house without explanation and had then heard that she’'d been shoved by the hand of destiny into a smack down with a stupid city bus.
Not at all.
Maybe it was in his eyes, Lucy thought. Maybe that’'s where his regrets lived. That’'s where they had to be. She decided she needed to see his face close-up, and when she did, it would all make sense to her. She would suddenly understand why Martin had made the decision that he had and that had led to Lucy becoming a Casper, and if it even mattered to him at all.
Lucy stepped from the hallway into the kitchen, stood in front of the stove for a moment, and then saw her move. She slipped into the diner chair next to Martin at the table, where he was reading the morning newspaper.