Meanwhile, Roger had been having a wonderful nap. The mattress was supremely comfortable and he idly wondered how Sarah was able to get out of it in the morning. He finally thought that he wasn't going to fall asleep again and sat up, yawning and stretching with a popping of joints. He looked over to the clock and saw that about half an hour had passed since he'd been bundled into bed by his newly-found, and re-found, sweethearts.
"It's about time you woke up, sleepyhead," said a familiar feminine voice. He turned his attention to the foot of the bed, where Jeannie's ghost was sitting, watching him. She was smiling, and her silvery glow showed that she was in a modest T-shirt and jeans. Her past shoulder-length hair had that feathered look that he knew so well. "All that activity you've been up to must have made you very tired." He shook his head ruefully and got out of the bed. He suddenly realized that he had the same silver glow that she had, and quickly looked back at the bed to see his body lying there, still breathing slowly and regularly.
"So that's what I look like when I'm sleeping," he said. "I'm not dead, am I? I look alive there."
"Your body is getting the rest it needs, but your spirit is up for a little walk," she replied. "Come with me." She led him out the door and down the stairs. He could still feel the sensation of the stairs under his feet, even though he wasn't sure if he had any mass that gravity could act on.
"Is it necessary to walk around like we do in real life, or can you blip from one place to another or float around at will?" he asked curiously. "I never imagined doing this." When they got to the bottom of the stairs and turned right to cross the hallway and go into the living room, he saw two male figures sitting on the three-seater couch. They weren't making an impression on it, he noted. Despite the light coming in from the picture window in front and the kitchen window from the rear, he could make out their silvery glows clearly. They stood up as Roger and Jeannie approached.
"Roger Matheson, I believe you remember John Burns from last night." Roger nodded and they smiled and shook hands. His hand felt cool, but firm. "The other gentleman is Joe MacInnes."
"I'm Debbie's late husband," he said in a deeper voice than Roger was expecting as they shook hands. He looked like he'd been black, not quite six feet tall, with a fit and toned body. He'd been handsome with an easygoing smile and a short afro. Strangely, Roger felt totally at ease with all of them.
"It is my pleasure to meet you both," he replied. "Shall we sit, or do we float around the room going 'wooo wooo'?" That got a laugh, and they all sat, with Jeannie between the other two and Roger on the love seat. "This is my first out-of-body experience, so please forgive me if I'm a bit awkward."
"No worries," said John in a clear, well-modulated tenor, well-suited to teaching Roger thought. "We don't have much time until the ladies return, so I'll be brief. All three of us were blessed by having partners who loved us and stood by us, through thick and thin."
"Just in the same way that you loved and stood by us," Roger returned. "I haven't had the chance to ask Debbie about you, but I know that both Sarah and I were devastated when you," he looked at Jeannie, "and John died. I don't think we ever stopped loving you," he said sadly.
"And that's the heart of the problem," said Joe. "You haven't let go of us emotionally, and we've finally figured out that it's what's keeping us here and preventing us from moving on."
"I am really sorry to hear that," replied Roger sincerely. "I'm confused though because I'm sure that lots of other people have left behind grieving spouses but have still managed to, um, move on?"
"There must be something special about you guys," said John. "Beyond what we knew when we met you, but it's getting kind of depressing being stuck here in limbo while the world goes on without us. Only a few seem to have the ability to see us, and we can't otherwise interact with the world."
"You have to figure out how to get yourselves to let go of us," said Joe. He looked out the window. "They're almost home. You have to go back upstairs and return to your body now."
"Sarah has already interacted with you, John. But Debbie won't believe me when I say I talked to you, Joe. Tell me something she'd recognize."
"Play 'Hey, Jude' on your phone. She'll know. But expect some crying." He smiled sadly.
"I'm the healer, so it's my job, isn't it?" They all got up. "I think I know the solution. The three of us are in the first stages of love, but it's only been about a day since I even got here. I think that once we're fully committed and realize that it's for real and forever, then we'll be ready to let go. I have an idea, and I'll work on it, but I think you guys will have a role in it." Roger felt himself drifting out of the room towards the stairs. "Dammit, I must be waking up!"
"Will it involve puns?" Jeannie asked in a resigned tone.
"My magic seems to depend on them," he replied as he drifted up the stairs, accelerating. "Sorry. Maybe the Other Side doesn't have them..." The sounds of car doors closing were audible through the open front ventilation windows below the picture window.
"Even after death I can't get away from his puns," she muttered darkly as Sarah put her key in the lock and turned it. The three ghosts vanished just as the door was opened.
"I hope Roger is still asleep," said Sarah quietly as she and Debbie came in with their bags of groceries. "I want to wake him up the fun way." They kicked off their sneakers, went into the kitchen, put the meat into the fridge and the bags on the counter, and then quickly tiptoed up the stairs and into the bedroom. It looked like Roger had hardly moved at all since he fell asleep, as he was still lying on his left side, facing away from them and towards the window, whose green curtains had been drawn when they first came upstairs. The head of the bed was against the far wall, with a dresser to its right and a night table on its left. They moved silently to stand on the near side, where he was.
"Which fun way did you have in mind?" Debbie whispered. "His underwear is still on, and they're those damn tighty-whities."
