My Ghost Roommate

It chooses Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.

I frown, squinting suspiciously at it.

The power cuts off at once, taking the lamplight, music, and internet away, only a glow from the laptop remaining. Lovely. With a sigh, I grab the matchbox in the drawer, strike one, then light the candle on my desk.

That’s when I spot the dude leaning against the wall staring back at me through the darkness, a limp slice of pizza dangling from his hand.

2

The Unexpected Roommate

He’s got a total frat-boy, varsity-jock vibe. Broad shoulders that stretch his plain t-shirt. Muscular. Thick legs in weathered jeans. High-top red-and-white chucks, untied, tongues loose and bunched up. Puffy chest and arms. Crooked blunt nose, probably from some fight he got in and lost. Messy hair. Lips that seem trapped in a permanent over-everything smirk. Peachy skin, maybe on the paler side, smooth except for some uneven, patchy stubble and a scar here or there.

Also, real quick: who in the intruder fuck is this pizza-stealing jock and why is he in my apartment??

He lifts an eyebrow, freezing mid-bite in his pizza. Complete and utter surprise fills his dumbfounded eyes.

Finally I remember I can speak. “Who are you??”

He blinks. “You can see me?”

“Who the hell are—ouch.” I forgot I’m still holding a lit match from lighting the candle. I blow at the match, killing it. “Who the hell are you??”

He drops the slice of pizza. It slaps the floor. “You can see me? You can actually, truly see me?”

“Did you seriously just break into my apartment at two in the morning to steal a slice of my cheese pizza?”

“I miss pizza. Dude, I can’t believe you can see me. No one can see me.”

I study him for a moment. He is the spitting image of every jock bully I ever had to defend myself against back in high school. He even reminds me of this guy from school I used to call a friend, who was certainly a burdensome handful of testosterone and masculine insecurity I would rather have not dealt with so much growing up. A total “bro”.

Also, I’m a bit sure I just realized what’s happening here. I roll my eyes. “Alright, fine, fine. How much did she pay you?”

He frowns. “Huh?”

“Mrs. Shaheen. How much did she pay you?”

“You mean the whacko across the hall? She hasn’t paid me anything. What would she pay me to—?”

“You can drop the act. I’m so not in the mood.” I slap shut my laptop. “I just want to get some sleep and prepare for my job interviews tomorrow. Now if you’ll be so kind as to leave …”

“I can’t.”

“… and perhaps to return your key or whatever to Mrs. Shaheen, who obviously paid you to sneak in here and try to breathe even an ounce of credibility into her silly ‘haunted apartment’ story …”

“I said she didn’t pay me!”

“… then I can return to bed, with or without power. I’m too tired to even unpack how wildly inappropriate this whole thing is. Not to mention the pizza …”

“I swear I wasn’t paid! Please, bro, c’mon, talk to me. Don’t go to bed. I …” He plants himself in front of my bedroom door, crossing his arms. “I won’t let you!”

The weird thing is, I don’t even feel threatened. “I’m not your ‘bro’. I’m Griffin.”

“Griffin? That’s … That’s a cool name, man! I’m Wes. That’s short for West, shorter for Westley. Look, I haven’t talked to anyone in, like, forever. I’m sick with loneliness. I’m freaking out that you not only can hear me, but also see me.” His hand shoots to his hair, then grabs his shirt. “I, uh, would’ve cared more ‘bout how I look if I knew you were gonna light a candle in here. Do I look like a total bum? Is my hair a mess?”

Wait. What? “Candle …?”

“Oh, yeah. It, uh … There’s something about fire in this room that kinda—Look, I dunno how it works, bro. I’m just desperate to talk to something that isn’t a wall.”

“And I’m desperate to get some damned sleep for my interviews tomorrow. Now if you’ll be so kind as to go home, I’ll tell Mrs. Shaheen in the morning that I was super-duper frightened, that the dumb ghost story about the murdered young dude is real—”

“Huh? I wasn’t murdered. What the f—”

“Seriously, you can drop the act. I’ll tell her I’m convinced. Job accomplished. Take your bow and go. She will be happy and pay you whatever this was worth. Hope your next role is more fun. I hear the community theatre scene around here is nice.” I pick up the candle.

“Wait. WAIT, NO, NO, WAIT!”

I blow it out.

He vanishes.

I blink in the smoke, astonished. I walk up to my bedroom doorway, but he isn’t inside. I glance back at the living room, staring into the dark. He’s nowhere.