Pothead Poltergeists

As we got walked inside the glass paneled doors of the hospital, I reminded him, “Now, remember to pretend I’m not here.” He nodded without looking at me. Other people would just see him talking to himself again if he didn’t. And not all people are as…understanding of talking to yourself as me or Adrienne.

As soon as we had stepped inside, he glanced around the dreary place. I looked around too and as I did, I could feel my stomach sinking in my chest. I never liked hospitals. People die here. It’s ironic to complain about something like that because it’s sort of a “duh” factor, and also because this is the place that is supposed to save lives. But all I have seen so far in my lifetime is when it fails.

It’s the times when doctors in Iraq can save a little girl’s life after she’s trampled in a crowd or dragged under a Jeep, but they can’t save your neighbor from the cancer that’s slowly getting to her right in your own town. If there is a Jesus of Suburbia, it’s those kinds of people in our backyards.

Billie marched up to the reception desk and asked for my name. He said he was a good friend and just wanted to see me for a second. The woman looked dubious, and said that was not possible without my parent’s authorization, but after a little sad whining on Billie’s part that I was like a sister to him, she showed him to my hospital door.

Man, he is good at that stuff. I was secretly laughing behind him, but tried to be quiet so he wouldn’t burst out laughing in front of the lady. But nope, it worked great. And she let him in.

He whispered out loud in the empty hallway, “Don’t do that! You almost made me laugh.”

Then I really started laughing. And all he was aloud to keep on his face was a smile so no one would notice. It was good to laugh though. I really was nervous as fuck about this. And I forgot about feeling sick for a second on the way to the room.

When we got to the right room number, he pressed his face up to the window and stared in. I peered in too from behind him. After a moment, I got up the courage to do something. I kissed Billie on the cheek, holding it a second as he smiled. Then, I pushed my way through the wall. I nearly fell out the other side. It was much harder to do that time.

I took another breath and walked up to where I was lying on the crummy bed with tubes up my nose and under my skin. I wanted to pull them all out of my body, but I have no idea what would happen if I tried. Most likely, it would just kill me. So I left them all alone.

My hair was lying around my face in this fashion that was too perfect. My hands were folded across my stomach in the same perfect set. It’s funny though, how they will fold your hands that way. It’s so unnatural and it’s the same way you fold the hands of a corpse in a coffin. Wonder if that’s saying something?

But I’m not even there yet. If I was, the tubes would be gone and there would be a sheet over my face. Someone had put it that way when I was rolled in on the stretcher, and it’s probably been the same way for the last week.

Damn, has it been this long already? I didn’t get to have dinner at Ollie’s on a Tuesday night. Hmm. I know that is none of my business though. That is for the Armstrongs. I wonder if another time…

I carefully touched my hand lying motionless, and the strangest thing happened.

There was this suction that pulled my ghost hand and real one together. I lunged forward as it pulled me in. I wiggled my fingers and my real hand moved. So that was it. My heart was beating a million times a minute in my chest. I tried to pull back my ghost hand, but it was suck. Dammit, I’m stuck.

This would be it then. I suppose I have no choice anymore. It’s almost too easy though. So simple. Why had I not thought of something like this? Or if I had known from the beginning, would it have made any difference? Would I have come back now?

I sat there a moment with my hand and ghost hand locked together in what should be the closest way, and just wondering what to do. I’m scared you know. Will this hurt?

And I had a good time as a ghost. I don’t really want to go back now that I think about it. I don’t. But I can’t get my hand back. I don’t want to go back to that life. It was so complicated. Like this, there was no time limit!

Or maybe there was. Maybe I would only last like this as my body survived. Or maybe it would go on after I am truly dead. What about a hundred years from now. Everyone will go at some point or another, and I’ll be stuck as a ghost. I’m not ready to see people go. I would have to watch all the people I know die. Do I get a choice of when I get to leave for real? Could I go with them? Which ones? Which people would I end it with?

Do I really dare chance any of that?

I stared back at Billie Joe’s curious face through the small frame of glass in the door. I smiled at him. He gave me a smile back. Sitting on the side of the bed, I took a deep breath, waved at him happily, though I am scared shitless and lay back on the bed to be encompassed by the suction all over to the sounds of a machine helping me breathe and the constant beep of a heart monitor though the feelings and the sounds are slowly ebbing away. I bit my lip and closed my eyes and wished to hell for paradise.

And now there is nothing.