Things Unseen

(fiction): A young couple's relationship troubles come to a head as one of them tries communicating with a ghost in their apartment.

image sourced from Freepik

It’s been six months since they moved into the apartment and nothing strange has happened, despite the warnings. Nothing beyond an explainable gust of wind, creaky pipe, or leaky ceiling. Cecilia is tearing her hair out over this–she was promised ghosts. Her boyfriend Angelo couldn’t care less about ghosts. Not anymore. Nonetheless, they both still consider the apartment worth it because the landlord, an older woman named Velma, doesn’t do credit checks.

The August heat is stiff and relentless, made worse by the fact their air conditioner broke three days ago. Cecilia sweats in their bedroom, which is just a walk-in closet with a mattress stuffed into it. It used to be the coziest place in the world, with its fluffy pillows, warm blankets, and gold fairy lights, but the heat has made it impossible for two people. So Cecilia occupied the bed while Angelo slept on the couch, his lanky arms constantly falling off. Neither one wants to admit just how good it feels to sleep alone.

An ambulance sounds somewhere in the distance, breaking Cecilia’s focus on her laptop, which sits open on their bed before her and is the only source of light in the studio besides the fairy lights.

“I’m here at Clementine Manor where, in a third-floor studio just months ago, a young couple died in the worst case of murder-suicide this sleepy town has ever seen. But we’re not here today to talk about what happened that tragic night, rather, what keeps happening since then,” the host of the video says into a miniature microphone. “The studio–cleaned, repainted, and put back up for rent in a matter of days–has had a revolving door of tenants since then. They all leave after a few weeks and they all say the same thing: ghosts.”

Cecilia wants to cry as the host lists strange events reported by tenants: screaming at night, electrical issues, faucets running when no one’s home, loud bangs, and what some describe as nails scratching on the wood floor, to name a few. She’s tried reaching out to the previous tenants with no luck, even when she mentioned her blog with thousands of dedicated readers. Anything she writes about the apartment will have to be experienced by her. How can she do that if nothing is happening?

Velma appears in the video, drawing Cecilia’s attention back to it.

“Don’t you see the ‘NO TRESPASSING’ signs everywhere?” Velma asks.

The host replies, “It’s a public sidewalk. Can you say anything about why all those tenants have fled? What about the ones who remain?” He shoves the mini-mic into Velma’s face.

“Maybe they keep leaving because wackos like you keep stalking us. Don’t come here again and don’t talk to my other tenants. Go! Shoo!” Just like chasing a rat away, Velma takes a broom from behind her and bats it at the host, who promptly ends the video in a blurry haze.

Lost in the video, Cecilia doesn’t notice Angelo come home but that’s nothing new. He could say something, announce his presence, but must he always beg to be seen? He notices she’s watching that stupid video again, as if studying the same exploitative media will change anything. Briefly, he wonders how long he could stand here without her noticing, but he snaps himself out of that thought. He can’t wait any longer. He has to tell her.

Still, Angelo hesitates. The night is quiet. They can just be a normal couple in a normal apartment on a normal night in August a few minutes longer. Well, as normal as they can be. Angelo’s persistently logical mind wanted to deny Cecilia’s abilities. But when they met and she started telling him things only he and his late brother would have known, he decided to stop trying to make sense of it and just make sense of Cecilia. Her entire existence defied logic. He thought that’s what it must mean to be in love. He heads to the kitchen instead, passing behind Cecilia on the way.

Cecilia shuts her laptop. Her back facing the living space, it catches the slight breeze rolling through the window. Her chest feels heavy but it’s nothing to get excited over. Jean is probably nearby. Cecilia can’t help but wonder though if it’s not Jean this time, if the other ghosts have finally decided to reveal themselves. Ghosts can be funny that way sometimes. They can be invisible for as long as they want or, at any point for whatever reason, they can appear in corporeal form. Cecilia figures they only do this when they really need to be seen, though. She wonders why Jean did reveal herself instantly the day they looked at the apartment.

Her chest felt heavy as soon as she and Angelo walked into the building that day, so she figured a ghost must be somewhere. While they toured the studio with Velma, Cecilia made eye contact with Jean. She immediately wanted to talk to her but had to be mindful of present company. If Cecilia started acting strange, Velma certainly wouldn’t rent the studio to them. She had to seem interested but not too eager. Knowledgeable about the studio’s recent bloody past but not so knowledgeable that it would suggest she’s sleuthing. Jean watched them the whole time and it made Cecilia uneasy. With Angelo playing look-out while Velma went downstairs to get the papers, Cecilia finally got her chance to speak to Jean.

“Hello, I’m Cecilia. You must be Jean, Velma’s late sister. She told us about you.”

Jean was stiff and cold, and not because she was dead. “Don’t bother with the niceties. You’re just like the others.”

Taken aback, Cecilia couldn’t help herself and got a little snappy. “Oh, really? Can the others communicate with you? Didn’t think so.” Cecilia paused for a moment and tried a different approach. “I can help you, you know. Get a message to Velma or pass on.”

“And is that all you want to do, help?”

“Yes.” Cecilia uttered the word before she could take a second to think if it was true or not.

After a moment, Jean sighed. “It’s not like I can stop you. Just leave them alone, okay?”

Blood rushed through Cecilia’s veins. “So they are here?”

But she couldn’t ask any more questions because Velma arrived with the papers. Cecilia hesitated before signing, wondering if she was doing the right thing, if she was asking too much of Angelo, if she was being selfish. She’d seen ghosts before but she never lived with one. How would that affect her? Affect Angelo? She thought of her lie to Jean and dismissed it. Was it really a lie? She did want to help people pass on! And if she got a great experience to write about in the meantime, well… the apartment had to be leased anyway, why not to someone like her?

Another breeze pulls Cecilia back to the present. She tries inhaling and exhaling deeply to assuage the heavy feeling. As she exhales, a third breeze rolls through and sends a shiver down Cecilia’s spine. Unlike the wind from outside, this air feels like ice. Cecilia shivers again, her mind suddenly alert. It couldn’t be a ghost, right? After months of nothing?

The dose of cold air prompts Cecilia to grab some ice to cool herself off. A polaroid of her and Angelo from college falls off the freezer door. Cecilia pauses to stare at it. It was taken at a house party. Angelo’s arms were wrapped around Cecilia’s waist and her right arm was up to caress his neck. If Cecilia closes her eyes she can still live in that moment, smell the smoke mixed with Angelo’s musky cologne, taste the cheap beer, hear the pulsing music, feel Angelo’s laugh vibrate through his chest right to hers. Their smiles were big and bright; it was months before graduation, before the thought of separation had ever entered their minds. Their friends all joked that if one was around, the other wasn’t far. 

Cecilia picks up the photo and puts it back in its place, only for it to fall again. She tries a third time with still no luck. Maybe the magnet has worn out. Shrugging, she turns around and Angelo is behind her, the moonlight illuminating his face in the dark studio.

“Angelo!” Cecilia exclaims, nearly dropping the ice. “You scared me, I didn’t even hear you come in.” She would be upset that he didn’t greet her when he came home but that’s been a regular occurrence lately. Wondering why he didn’t turn on a light, she flips a switch for the light over the kitchen sink, then goes back to the main room and sits on their bed, Angelo following her.

Angelo hesitates before softly saying, “Cece, we have to talk.”

Cecilia’s heart plummets and her stomach doubles over. This is it, she thinks, he’s finally going to do it. Her mom’s last text runs through her mind.

‘You’re only twenty-three, sweetheart, do you really want to be thinking about committing to a relationship when you have your whole life ahead of you? You just graduated college, you’re starting your career, you’re still discovering who you are. That’s a lot of big changes.’

Cecilia agrees that it’s a lot of big changes, which is why she wants to stay with Angelo, make him the one constant among the sea of doubts. She couldn’t deny they were going through a rough patch but they’ve survived those in the three years they’ve been together. It would all be fine. Cecilia pretends not to hear Angelo, suddenly appearing invested in cooling herself off. That reminds her that Angelo told her he’d pick up more ice on his way home from work and she sees nothing in his hands and doesn’t remember seeing any more in the freezer.

“Why didn’t you get any ice?” She asks.

Knowing Cecilia’s methods of distraction, Angelo refuses to engage this time. “It doesn’t matter. Now can we–”

“Doesn’t matter? It’s August on the East Coast, I’m dying here.”

Suddenly, the fairy lights above Cecilia’s head flicker. Not one or two strings, but the whole setup, flickering on and off for about five seconds before returning to their normal soft gold glow. Cecilia puts the remaining ice cubes in an empty glass on the floor by the bed, not taking her eyes off the lights. She pays attention to the heaviness in her chest again.

“How old are the batteries in those lights?” Cecilia asks.

“I replaced the batteries the other day, I… know how comforting the lights are for you,” Angelo replies, looking away. He used to be so open about his favors to Cecilia but now admitting to them feels weird, like he doesn’t know how to be a boyfriend anymore. “Look, we really need to–”

He’s cut off as Cecilia runs past him to the kitchen. The light she turned on earlier is off. With a grin, she comes back to the living area with a bunch of candles and begins setting them up on their coffee table. She can’t contain the glee in her voice. “Angelo, I think we finally have a ghost.”

“Tell them to come back later.”

Ignoring him, Cecilia lights each candle and concentrates again, closing her eyes. Sometimes ghosts need a little push, an extra source of energy to pull from. Personal objects work best, but in the absence of those, Cecilia finds that candles do just fine. “Whoever you are, you can speak to me. I’m here to listen.”

One candle in the center blows out. It doesn’t simply die the way some candles do when the wick is too short. It blows out as if someone blew on it.

“Aha!” Cecilia points at it like a child trying to prove something to an adult.

Angelo, sitting across the table from Cecilia now, says flatly, “The window is open.” Cecilia jumps up, swings the large window shut, and goes back to the candles. “You were just complaining about the heat and now you want to stop all airflow?”

Cecilia sighs. “Look, I know you like to be the logical one but you don’t have to get an attitude.”

It is true that Angelo would always encourage Cecilia in her ghostly encounters. He couldn’t really do much besides look out for other humans or listen to Cecilia bounce theories off him, but it made him feel special to be included in something so personal for her. The last time he remembers truly feeling that way was the day they looked at the apartment.

They had decided if there were ghosts, they’d take the place, but they really didn’t have many options as recent college graduates anyway. All of their friends either moved back home, found jobs somewhere else, or signed leases with other people. But they figured moving in together was the logical next step, especially with Angelo still looking for work and Cecilia’s new job as a junior staff writer for a publication in the city.

Just like Cecilia, Angelo hesitated before signing the lease. Days prior he got a job offer as a biological technician in Oregon. He never told Cecilia about it because he didn’t even think he’d get an interview, he’d only applied just to say that he had. It would have been his first job in the field he wanted, saving him from shitty customers demanding he make their prescriptions appear faster. But he wasn’t sure Cecilia would want to go with him. He couldn’t ask her to move for him–what if she regretted it? He could find other jobs, right? And he’s never moved that far away before. And they’d spent nearly every day together the last few years, could they even handle long distance? And wasn’t it kind of selfless and romantic of him to give this up in order to be with Cecilia? Wasn’t he kind of the perfect boyfriend, agreeing to move into this apartment on a whim just to let her live out her dreams? She’d return the favor some day, he knew it.

So he signed the lease and never brought the job up. But after months of no luck again, he started imagining his life in Oregon with Cecilia if he had taken the job. They could afford to have a proper bedroom, for starters. She would love the rainy days, he would love the hiking trails. He could bring coffee to Cecilia while she writes. She could sneak sticky notes with jokes and affections into his work bag. They’d be all alone out there but they’d have each other. They could still be them, just somewhere new.

As Cecilia excelled and Angelo fell even deeper into a pit of underemployed despair, Angelo began to imagine his life in Oregon without Cecilia. Maybe he’d live with roommates again or try it alone. He wouldn’t have to be quiet in the mornings while she slept in. He could do what he wanted, go where he wanted, when he wanted, without having someone else to worry about. After years of always thinking of someone else, that thought comforted him. He wouldn’t have to hear mentions of ghosts at all anymore either. That thought was the most welcome of all. So he started applying to jobs again, first trying to stay local but then opening himself up to opportunities farther away.

Cecilia’s frustrated cries break Angelo’s reverie. “Ugh, why isn’t anything happening?”

Half-heartedly, Angelo says, “Maybe they just don’t want to talk, babe.” He’s been getting tired of having to console Cecilia about a problem that really doesn’t amount to much. So what if the ghosts don’t want to speak to her? Can’t she just leave them alone? Can’t she just find other ghosts if she’s so desperate? There’s no shortage of dying people in the world, after all. Of course, not everyone becomes a ghost, but hanging around the morgue would be more productive at this point. 

Angelo tries again. “But speaking of talking, there’s something I need to tell–”

“This is clearly not the time, Angelo,” Cecilia interjects.

She doesn’t care how she’s acting so long as it prolongs the inevitable. And really, he does have the worst timing in the world. Can’t he break up with her when she’s not actively trying to contact the dead? Although, maybe if the two of them keep at it, their negative emotions will draw the ghosts out. Ghosts feed off all kinds of energy and human emotion can be the strongest. It’s like a two-way street; humans can be affected by the ghosts and the ghosts can be affected by the humans, each one feeding off the other in a toxic cycle.

Suddenly, every single candle on the table blows out at once. Cecilia beams. Now if she can only get them to appear in corporeal form so she can talk to them…

If Angelo hadn’t been upset, he would laugh at Cecilia’s comment. He really does have perfect timing, trying to tell her he’s dead at the same time she’s ghost hunting. He knew the writer in her would appreciate the irony of it all. But the fact that he’s been making things happen around the apartment and she still doesn’t notice that it’s him pisses him off, quite frankly.

In the short time he’s been dead, Angelo has experienced the broad spectrum of human emotion in a new way. He no longer feels “kind of” hurt, angry, happy, sad, etc. he just feels each emotion so completely, filling him like a tall glass of water. And these feelings make him want to do things. With humans, this might mean throwing a plate or balling their fists or crying. He can’t do any of this. Instead, the emotions feel like an electric current and he can transfer this current to the physical world. The lights. The candles. The water. The furniture. Maybe he should transfer more of it.

All of the candles slide off the coffee table with a violent force, glass shattering on the floor. Cecilia is safely out of the way–he wouldn’t have done it otherwise–but the shock of it makes her jump back, before she adjusts and affirms the presence of ghosts. “Come on, you can’t deny that!”

Angelo plays along. “Fine. How are you going to get them to talk instead of throw things?”

Cecilia isn’t sure. She’s never had to do much to coax a ghost into turning corporeal before. They normally just appear to her and start blabbing, grateful to finally have someone to communicate with. It was why she dropped out of her mortuary science program when she started her apprenticeship; she couldn’t get work done because so many ghosts wanted her to play therapist.

“I don’t know but this is the most action we’ve gotten in months, we have to take advantage of this opportunity.” Cecilia gets a broom and sweeps the broken glass away, gathering the candles into a pile and taking note of how Angelo isn’t helping.

Angelo internally scoffs at Cecilia’s “we” statements, thinking about how “this opportunity” is all that’s been on her mind. All of the lights in the studio begin flickering.

Desperate again, Cecilia speaks to the ceiling, as if the ghosts are hanging out up there. “There’s no need for all the theatrics, you can talk to me!”

Anger flares through Angelo and he speaks to the ceiling too. “Please, anything to keep her from talking to her boyfriend!”

Cecilia whips around to face Angelo, her thin, dark eyebrows furrowed together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

As Angelo speaks, the lights in the studio continue flickering. “You know what it means. You’ve been too busy working and chasing ghosts to have time for me.”

Cecilia throws her hands up. “Sorry I’ve got a career and a life, Angelo!”

The lights flicker even faster, causing a strobing effect that would surely blind them if gone unchecked for much longer but Angelo couldn’t help himself. It isn’t just about catching her attention the only way he knows how. He can feel months’ worth of anger, frustration, resentment, and regret building inside him.

“What about my career?” Angelo asks.

“What about it?”

“If I spent all of my time doing lab research instead of being with you, wouldn’t it bother you?”

The answer falls out of Cecilia’s mouth before she can stop it. “But you’re not.”

All of the lights go out, leaving them in pitch black. For a moment, the dark silence is tense and Cecilia waits with bated breath both for Angelo’s response and for what the ghosts may do next. Excitement quickens her heart at this, then guilt weighs it down just as fast.

Angelo’s voice is calm but there’s a current of hurt underneath it. “Just because I haven’t been as lucky as you doesn’t make me a failure.”

“I don’t think you’re a failure!”

“Then why do you send me job listings every day?”

“Because I know you’re looking and I want to help.”

“Not everyone wants your help, Cecilia.”

Angelo’s comment sticks in Cecilia’s mind like chewed gum. She’s just trying to be a good girlfriend and here he is being ungrateful. He wasn’t too proud to accept her help with studying for finals, when she rearranged her entire life to study abroad with him because he was too scared to go alone, when he was short on rent one month, when he needed a place to stay the summer his parents were dragging him into their nasty divorce. She was doing what she’s always done, be there for him. He could’ve said something if it bothers him. Was she supposed to automatically know?

Cecilia crosses her arms and stares Angelo down. “Well even if they don’t want it, they probably need it since they don’t help themselves.”

Their window, which Cecilia forgot to latch, bursts open and swings against the wall with a bang. Cecilia jumps away but Angelo stays still, focusing on what else he can make happen while searching for the right words to say next. But he’s tired of always thinking of the right thing to say–it never got him anywhere. Whenever he and Cecilia would fight, he’d always say the right thing to resolve the conflict as fast as possible. He hated being in fights with her, hated knowing he’d disappointed or annoyed her somehow, hated the slightest bit of conflict. But none of that matters anymore. He tried getting her to talk the normal way but this way is clearly getting better results.

“And you think you’re so qualified just because you’re working in the field you want? Think that makes you better than me? You may be the only one working on your career but it comes at the cost of everything else. That’s why you hunt ghosts all the time, you don’t have any friends.”

The comment is like a hot iron poker to Cecilia’s chest. Tears well in Cecilia’s eyes and she wants desperately another room to flee to but all they have is their tiny studio. There’s nowhere to go. There’s been nowhere to go. All she can do is stand here, sweating her entire body weight out and facing Angelo and what he really thinks about her, what she’s always feared is true. One tear spills from Cecilia’s eye and a lamp briefly flickers as she wipes it away. The ghosts… they must be feeding off of the negative energy the two of them are producing with their argument. Hurt hardens into resolve. If the end of her relationship is coming, she can at least use it to her advantage and get the ghosts to appear. If that proves Angelo right, then so be it.

“Oh, and you do? Is that what you’re doing at the bar four nights a week, making friends? Maybe I should ask the bartender since they’re the only person who’ll know your name.” Cecilia places a hand on her chest. “At least I’m using my time trying to make things better for myself, for us. You’re just letting some bad luck waste you away. You know, if I didn’t push you then you wouldn’t take any chances.”

“That’s not true. I almost took a job offer across the country! How’s that for taking chances?” Angelo replies. But it’s half-hearted and Cecilia says what he’s thinking before he can even think it.

“‘Almost’ taking a job isn’t taking chances. And when was this?”

The light in the kitchen comes back on, along with the fairy lights, casting them in warm, low light. Defeated and ashamed, he gives her all the details. Angelo almost feels lucky to be dead when he sees the glare Cecilia gives him, certain she would do the job herself if it hadn’t already been done.

“So you just assumed without even asking.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Cecilia’s mouth opens but no answer comes. She had already taken her new job by then, and she was lucky to get it; throwing it away to move across the country might’ve put her in the same position Angelo is in now. But it’s Angelo. Surely they could’ve made it work? Tried long distance? 

“That’s not fair, you can’t put that on me now. And it doesn’t matter anyway, the point is that you never even told me about it, you just decided for us. What kind of future can we have if we don’t communicate?”

Angelo scoffs and the lights flicker again. The kitchen faucet drips, heavier than its usual leaky spillage. Angelo wants to laugh at Cecilia’s comment. For a moment, he pretends they still have a future so he can ask, “Okay, let’s say I get the same offer tomorrow. Would you still go with me?”

Cecilia avoids Angelo’s gaze as guilt eats away at her. “I mean, not immediately…”

“Why not?”

Flustered, Cecilia struggles for an answer that would satisfy him. “Well I mean we can’t just break the lease and I’d have to find a job and it’s a big move–”

Angelo shakes his head. “Forget logistics. Would you do the same for me as I did for you?”

“You can’t compare a move across town to a move across the continent!”

“Forget about the apartment, I mean would you give up an opportunity like I did?”

“No!” Cecilia exclaims before she can stop herself. She wants to backtrack, explain herself, resolve the look of betrayal on Angelo’s face right now. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t try to make things work, but… it doesn’t matter anyway, not after…”

“After what?”

After a moment of tense silence, Cecilia comes clean. “Do you remember that man I helped reconnect with his dead sister after thirty years? He owns a small publishing house. He heard about what happened here, and the rumors about the ghosts. He knew we lived in the area so he asked me about it, and I told him we live here. He… offered me a book deal. I’d write about myself and the ghosts I’ve encountered, just like on my blog, but this apartment would be the selling point.”

A dark look crosses Angelo’s face, one Cecilia has never seen before. The lights begin flickering again and all of the taps in the kitchen and bathroom drip this time. The room suddenly feels ten degrees cooler.

Angelo’s voice is low and calm, but not pleasant. Cecilia wishes he would just yell at her. “So it’s not okay when I make a big decision without telling you but it’s okay when you do it?”

Before Cecilia can answer, their TV comes on, switching between channels rapidly. She doesn’t know how far things with the ghosts will go but she can’t stop it now, despite the little ball of fear now forming in the pit of her stomach. But bigger than the little ball of fear is the anger that shakes her, wants her to ball her fists so she doesn’t throw anything.

“Do you even understand how rare a deal like that is, and at my age? And it’s different because my decision just means we’ll have to stay put for a while, it’s not changing anything. Look what your decision did! I refused to see it before but look at us! I can’t believe you would do something like that, Angelo.”

“Well I can’t believe you’d do something like that either,” Angelo replies, gritting his teeth. Their Bluetooth radio now joins the show, tuning into different stations in a static frenzy. Angelo couldn’t stop if he wanted to, it’s like the current running through him is its own being now, messing with the lights and the faucets and anything else in the vicinity. Directly above Angelo is the main light in the living area. He doesn’t know why or how but he makes that light stay on while all the others flicker. It buzzes faintly the way some old lights do.

“You know, you act so selfless and accommodating Angelo, but you’re just as selfish as you think I am. You’re holding your own decisions against me!” Cecilia cries. She notices the light above Angelo, singular in its yellow glare, and faintly hears a buzzing sound, almost like she can hear the electricity itself being conducted. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to be brave enough to say the words she could hardly even think of before. “That’s why I think you wanted to break up back when you got the job offer but you couldn’t do it, and now that you’ve created a reason to be angry with me, you think you’re justified in wanting to break up now.”

The light above Angelo buzzes so loudly that it’s all he can hear amidst the switching radio stations, TV channels, and dripping faucets. He wants to move everything in the apartment, switch everything around until it’s unrecognizable, rip the photos from the walls, tear stuff off the shelves.

“That’s not true!” Angelo says, but he knows it is and that’s what makes him feel worse than he’s ever felt before, even worse than the moment he became a ghost. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Yes it does. Please, Angelo, maybe we went about things the wrong way but I don’t think that means we can’t still have a future together!”

At Cecilia’s mention of their future yet again, Angelo can’t stop it anymore. It’s like everything in him is operating at full capacity. The lights no longer flicker, they flash on and off like the repeated flashes of a camera. The faucets no longer drip, water gushes from them as if the handles have broken off. The TV switches channels in mere milliseconds, the volume rising without a touch on the remote. Then, just like Angelo pictured, things really do begin falling off the shelves.

Cecilia looks around with fear and awe in equal measure. “Okay, okay, we’ll stop arguing if it bothers you so much!” But it’s no use, the ghosts have made it their home again, not hers. Maybe it always was. A mini figurine of a ballerina Angelo bought for her falls and shatters on the floor. Cecilia’s many books fly off the shelves, and she has to dodge some of them, along with Angelo’s collection of old computer games, some of which were gifts from her. The photos of themselves through the years they hung above the couch in an attempt to make the place feel like theirs fall off their hooks.

Above Angelo, the light glows brighter than ever, the sound of its electric hum practically deafening. Cecilia can’t understand why Angelo isn’t moving or even reacting to the otherworldly events around them. She looks at his face, twisted in a way she’s never seen before, like the face of someone grieving in agony. Suddenly, the light above Angelo bursts, burning out in an instant, sharp crack, sending glass everywhere. Without thinking, Cecilia runs the few steps it takes to reach Angelo and shoves him out of harm’s way. Only instead of running into his hard body, she falls through him and lands on the floor, a wave of intense cold rippling through her as if she had just fallen through a lake of ice.

The second Cecilia falls, everything stops and it’s deadly silent. Cecilia ignores the pain in her elbows, frozen to her spot on the floor. Slowly, her eyes follow the length of Angelo’s body. He glows a little brighter and she thinks of when she first saw him in the kitchen, how the moonlight illuminated his face… only there is no moon tonight. Their eyes meet and fear crawls up her throat. She doesn’t need to say it but she must get verbal confirmation before she can allow herself to believe it.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You? The whole time?” Angelo gives a somber nod. “When? How?”

“I locked myself in the bathroom after my shift. Sudden brain hemorrhage, just like–”

“Like your brother.”

Cecilia almost reaches out, desperate to touch Angelo again, not just for more confirmation but because she hasn’t touched him in days and wants nothing more than to feel him against her one last time. But it won’t be the same, where there was once vibrancy and warmth there is now emptiness and cold, and she would rather remember his touch than have the memory of it replaced by how he feels now.

Suddenly, Cecilia remembers something she learned about ghosts. They are always tied to an object, place, or person, they can’t just roam the physical world freely. And since he didn’t die in the apartment…

Tears spring from Cecilia's eyes and, voice thick, she says, “You stayed for me.”

“Actually I stayed for my Hot Wheels collection, I just can’t cross over without it.” They both laugh, and Cecilia feels another pang in her chest. Here Angelo is, still trying to make her feel better. Another moment of silence passes, then Angelo looks into Cecilia’s eyes with all of the love he’s ever felt for her.

“I couldn’t let you find out from a stranger.”

Cecilia can’t bear it anymore, a dam has broken behind her eyes and she chokes on guttural sobs, her body like lead on the floor. Seeing her cry, Angelo wants nothing more than to hold her, say the right thing to make everything better again, but he can’t do that anymore. The lights softly flicker.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I should’ve have been honest with you, no matter what the outcome might have been,” Angelo says.

“You were afraid. I can’t blame you there,” Cecilia says in between sniffles, the crying now a silent stream. “But now I can’t stop picturing how things might have been if you had just told me. Or if I hadn’t made us take this apartment.”

“What do you picture?”

“Honestly? I picture us trying long distance. We’d abuse the hell out of our phones keeping in contact. We’d save up for flights to one another, or meet in the middle.” Cecilia pauses to laugh. “You would wake up at five in the morning every day just to call me and act as my alarm because you know that’s the only way I’d wake up.”

Angelo laughs with Cecilia, knowing it’s completely true that he would do that.

“It would be hard. The hardest thing we’ve ever done. But we’d grow into ourselves and work out a way to come back together,” Cecilia continues. “Or… maybe we’d realize that we had a good run but it was time to part ways, to become the best versions of ourselves. Who knows.”

“Yeah…who knows.”

Suddenly Angelo sees a light but he knows it’s not from in the apartment. It comes from behind his eyes, covering what’s in front of him. It’s not a white light; in fact, it reminds him of a star, almost like he’s looking at the universe. An unfamiliar warmth envelopes him and he wants to sink into it. But in the left corner of his vision, he can still see Cecilia looking up at him, and he knows that she knows.

“Angelo, will you stay with me?”

“Okay.” He focuses his gaze on Cecilia until the light fades and the warmth disappears. “For a little while.”

---

I’m a tiny ball of nerves right now. I first wrote this story 5 years ago for a class assignment and it’s been through many versions. I’ve never been able to find the right home for it until now. It’s been such a long time since I completed a story and I’m nervous my fiction debut is disappointing. But the story of Cecilia and Angelo has always stuck in my mind and I’ve finally made a version I’m happy with. Thank you so much for reading.

In the meantime…

I’d appreciate it very much if you shared this post and left a comment if you feel compelled. To see what I get up to when I’m not writing, you can follow me on Instagram at mjewrites.

Happy Haunting.