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But all of that pales in comparison to his personal project. He took it upon himself to make use of the fire escape by setting up a little garden out there with some planters in the window and a few specifically-selected potted beauties just outside. They’re all his babies. He loves picturing someone in a neighboring building who watches a cup levitate over to the plants to water them, proving the rumors that a ghost resides here—though I can’t imagine being afraid of one whose main priority seems to be watering aloe vera plants and petunias.
It’s the little things that give him joy, I guess, like the occasional time I let him come along via my body to enjoy a tasty meal at a restaurant—something he misses.
It’s about a week before Halloween when Byron is working late at Spooky’s that West drops sullenly onto the couch next to me. “Bro, I got a bad feeling.”
“Shh, it’s the last few minutes of the season finale!”
West allows me exactly eleven more seconds of my show before he grabs the remote and pauses it. “Griff.”
I huff and glare at him. “What is it, West?? Byron will be here soon, and you know he hates this show, so I always have to watch it on my own while—”
“I think I’m fading away.”
I flinch. “What? You’re what?”
“Yeah. I, uh …” He swallows hard and stares at his hands, worried. “I was just cleaning the other day, and I felt this weird … pulling feeling. It was right here in my chest, like a feeling of being sucked down a waterslide, except I was standing totally still.”
“What the fuck?”
“Exactly. What the fuck. I pressed myself against a wall, terrified. Dropped my broom so loudly, I was sure Madame Freak-a-doo across the hall was gonna come barging in to investigate, since she’s aware of your daily schedule and knows when no one’s here. Anyway, the feeling soon left, and then I was back to normal.”
“So how does some weird ‘pulling feeling’ inside you equate to you fading away?”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Ever since I died. I wondered why I’m still here. Y’know, all those questions you asked me when we first met, almost a year ago today. I wondered … am I stuck here for a reason? Is there some grand purpose I gotta fulfill before … I dunno … before I ‘move on’ …?”
The idea guts me. I have grown so attached to West even though it’s been ages since I let him jump into my body. Oh, maybe that’s it! “Do we need to do our thing again? Maybe your soul is thirsty. Your body might—”
“I don’t have a stupid body.”
He’s sounding sulky now. He’s worried. “Y’know what I mean. Maybe your spirit essence or whatever is confused, since we used to do our thing more often back in the day. I mean, we haven’t become Michoseph in a long while. When was the last—?”
“Fourth of July.”
I stare at him, aghast. “Fourth of … Are you sure?”
“Yep. I wanted to taste hotdogs off the grill, feel the hot sun on my skin, and experience the thrill of lighting a firework upclose again. Thanks for doing that, by the way. I know it scared the shit out of you.”
“It did.” I look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t want to disturb your life, Griff. I don’t wanna be in the way. You’ve got Byron and cool graphics stuff. He’s got his weird costume stuff and his dads I still haven’t met.” He sighs. “I dunno. Is there a place for me anymore in your life? Maybe this pulling feeling in me is a sign … that I’m finally becoming …”
I don’t know how to explain it, but at once, I know exactly what he’s feeling. I wrap my arms around West and yank him against me for a hug.
“Hey, what the—??” he protests.
“You’re not irrelevant,” I whisper in his ear. He shuts up. “Byron and I may be in love, but … what I’ve got for you is another kind of love. I love you like you are my real actual brother, West. You’re one of the most important people in my life. People. Not a ghost. Not a spirit. Not … an odd, unexplainable phenomenon whose farts actually don’t stink. People, bro. I love you.”
West resists the hug at first, then sighs and gives in, his chest on my shoulder. “You called me ‘bro’.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t make anything of it. Hey. Don’t worry, alright? We’ll do some together stuff again really soon, bring out the Michoseph, and be amazing. Hey, maybe for Halloween, we can actually tell—”
“We’re still not telling Byron about us.”
“But—”
“Nope.”
It was worth a shot. I smile. “Alright, buddy.”
“Also, are we seriously still set on ‘Michoseph’? I mean, I know Michael and Joseph aren’t the best middle names to marry together, but …”
