Oh. Shit! She's back.
Jack had to drop everything and run to the living room; he needed to see her again. His coffee mug shattering against the kitchen floor meant little to him. Jack followed her out of the room, stumbling into the den and crashed into a chair. Any pain that he felt was instantly ignored; he just had to see her face. But she phased through the bookcase, leaving him disappointed.
Ten years. It had been ten years since Jack had last seen Erin.
Just a brief peek of her ghostly form, and Jack was a teenager again. The first time he met Erin, he was thirteen. Jack's parents had dragged the family from Boston to live in a stock horror mansion outside Portland, Maine. He hated everything about it, feeling depressed, isolated from his old life. Then he saw her.
She appeared late one night as Jack attempted to fall asleep. His eyes widened as this woman floated in front of his bed. She wore a bulky, dark shirt with a lighter collar, a long apron over a skirt that reached her ankles and sensible shoes. Pale skin and white hair held up in a professional bun. She stood translucent and hovered a foot off the ground.
Jack was freaking out, shaking under the covers and trying to release a scream. But watching her body float, her head crooked to the side with a curious smile, Jack felt an eerie calm. He sat up in his bed and examined her further. She was beautiful, an oval face with dimples, full lips, and wide, expressive eyes. He tried to guess her age, but it was impossible due to her intangible form.
"Hello..." Jack said. His voice was hoarse and unconvincing.
She smiled again at him before disappearing.
"Fuck." Jack immediately fainted.
He awoke late in the morning, still shaken. Jack ran down to his family, yelling at them in the kitchen at what he had just seen. His parents responded with blank looks. His sisters both snickered, cracking jokes about Jack's nighttime activities and how it must have affected his brain. But as he continued, the jokes stopped, and soon Jack had weekly sessions with Dr. Miller.
It was like a month until he saw her again. Jack was alone in the house and found Erin standing in between his bed. He screamed this time, but Erin just replied with a smile. She looked amused by his actions. She disappeared, and Jack had to wait another month before catching her on the stairs. But he had a plan, knowing what he should do the next time he ever saw her again.
"JACK!" His mother yelled from upstairs. "WHAT HAPPENED!"
Jack rolled his eyes. "It's nothing. I dropped my mug." He shouted back up, praying that his parents won't come down.
Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and Jack had returned home early, hoping just to relax and forget about Laura. Retreating into the kitchen, he ignored the mess he'd left behind. He wasn't that heartbroken about the end of the relationship; he just needed to get out of Boston for a while. Jack filled up a glass of water and took a couple of gulps, trying to steady himself. The plan was to drink, eat loads and watch football. But now, Jack was instantly consumed by the need to see Erin again.
***
Jack rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He guessed that it was probably two in the morning. He should be asleep, but restless energy had overpowered him, just like when he was a teenager. The weeks after her second appearance, Jack woke early in the morning and saw Erin staring out of the window. She turned to him and then disappeared. Every couple of weeks, he would see Erin around the house, mostly in his room, but always when he was alone.
Whenever Jack saw her, Erin would disappear, fade into nothing in front of him. After a dozen or so appearances, Erin and Jack got used to seeing each other over the year. He would see her, and they would exchange brief smiles before would Erin dissolve. Jack got used to finding her in random places, occasionally pretending that she was never there when Erin materialized during family dinners. Though she mostly appeared in his room. He was also sure that he was the only one who could see her, which developed a special bond as he aged.
It was just a shame they couldn't talk to each other.
Whatever break in the dimensions that brought her here didn't allow them to speak or hear one another. Over the years, Jack and Erin relied on non-verbal communication, making up their own sign language while also writing out words on paper. Jack's parents were weirded out one Christmas when he asked for a dry erase board.
He would come home from school and rush to his room, wondering if that day was the day she would appear. If he found her there, Jack would tell her about his day, what had changed since they last spoke and random thoughts in his head. She would eagerly listen to him and try to respond in her own way. She had become this nonjudgmental friend that he could bounce off from as he dealt with his new surroundings and the horror of puberty.
It took two years for Jack to know Erin's name. They were together in his room; the house was empty apart from them. It felt that Erin had trained herself to emerge only when he was alone. Jack sat on his bed, talking to Erin. For the hundredth time, he had asked her name. She led him to the bathroom and pointed to the faucet. Running the hot water, he saw Erin smile as the bathroom mirror started to fog up. She clenched her jaw and pressed a finger up against the glass. Erin's face strained as her form became clearer as she wrote 'ERIN' in the mirror. The smile on Jack's face then quickly vanished as Erin faded into nothing. He wouldn't see her for another two months.
Jack rolled onto his stomach, feeling his dick throb against his leg. Without any prompting, his mind cast back when he turned 18, and Erin gave him a special present. It was one of the few times that Erin appeared when there were other people in the house. He was half-asleep, playing on his PlayStation when she materialized. Jack shuffled back and collapsed on the bed. There was something off about her that night, her body was trembling, and her face was stone-like.
With great energy, her lips curled into a smile, and there was a flash. The clothing that Jack had always seen her in the last five years had disappeared into nothing, leaving her naked. A loud guttural groan escaped Jack's mouth; it was the first time he had seen a naked woman. Her body was slim, graceful, like a dancer, and perfect. He stared at her small but firm breasts; Jack assumed they were B-cups and wished he could have his hands over them. Her skin then began to change, turning from a clear white to a fair skin tone. He noticed rusty-colored freckles dot around her angular nose framed by long reddish-brown hair. Then two bright green eyes stared back, overwhelming him.
"Fuck," Jack whispered. His mouth dry, his stomach twisted into knots, and all the blood drained into his penis. He was in love or lust; it was all the same back then to him.
Jack rolled off the bed and waddled to the bathroom, holding out the used tissue as far away from him as if it was toxic. He was only exposed to her for a few moments before she vanished. Still, Erin's naked form had been seared entirely in his brain, giving him special comfort during lonely nights. Dumping the balled-up tissue in the toilet, he started washing his hands. The general feeling of self-disgust hit him, but this time with more power. He was fantasizing about a long-dead woman. It's not right.
He crawled back into his bed and reached for his laptop. Opening the browser, Jack thought to himself for a moment before going to incognito mode. He might need some privacy should anyone have a look at his search history. In the search bar, he typed 'Medium/Psychic AND Portland, Maine.'
***
The doorbell rang, and Jack quickly set down his coffee and rushed to the door. He briefly checked himself out in the hallway mirror; he looked normal. Jack wanted to make sure that he pulled that off, a navy oxford shirt, black jeans, and white sneakers, that all screamed normal to him.
Jack then mentally thought about what he was going to say to the medium. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience in this. He could tell her about Erin, maybe use her name. Also, he could say where she usually appears and does. Probably shouldn't mention Erin getting naked as some kind of birthday present. He then wished that the medium agreed a later time just so he could rationalize having a drink.
During Thanksgiving dinner, Jack told his family that he wanted to stay in Maine for a while, maybe until after Christmas. He had exaggerated the effects that the disintegration of his relationship with Laura had on him. It was a blatant lie; his parents knew it, his sisters didn't care, but no one really questioned it.
He prayed that none of them would ever find out that he booked a medium. This Ophelia from Portland, Jack didn't know what he wanted from her. From movies, he had been told that ghosts that roam around usually have unfinished business. If somehow the medium was legit and could talk to Erin, he didn't know if it would be best if Erin moved on.
Opening the door, a young woman stood, waiting impatiently. Their eyes met, and Jack was stunned to find his assumptions shattered. He was expecting a woman in her fifties, heavy makeup, and lots of necklaces, someone like that Long Island psychic. Instead, a woman stood in front of him who looked like she was in her twenties, with blonde wavy hair and a curvy figure. She gave an impression of an Instagram influencer with tight high-waisted jeans, a simple tee, and a suede jacket.
"Jack Taylor?" she said, pinching her mouth shut and curving her lips upward.
"Ophelia?" Jack arched an eyebrow without thinking.
She nodded and walked past him, taking in the house. A Victorian-style mansion, built in the 1860s, with five bedrooms, a parlor, a giant fireplace that could fit a body, a near-constant fog-covered backyard, and a bloody-red painted door. She looked unimpressed. Ophelia raised her hands and fluttered her fingers, doing a sort of jazz hands while slowly spinning. Jack had no idea what he was supposed to be feeling, but she's young and hot. Was this a con? Did he want it to be one?
"Do you want anything to drink?" Jack asked, trying to get a read of the situation. He then glanced at the clock. His parents should be home in a couple of hours; he had time.
"I'm fine." She replied, flashing another smile. "Should we deal with the money first?"
