Layla

There isn’t a single person I can talk to about this.

But that also means there isn’t anyone to tell me that what I’m doing is wrong.

It’s after midnight now, and I don’t really feel like staying up for an entire washing machine cycle just for a bathing suit, so I hand-wash it in the sink and then take it down to the laundry room and throw it in the dryer. While I’m downstairs, I pop a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

Willow is sitting up in bed, half-covered with the blanket when I bring it to her, along with another glass of water. She looks elated when she sees the popcorn. She sits up straighter and grabs for the bowl before I’m even seated on the bed.

“What are you watching?” I ask.

She shoves three pieces into her mouth. “Ghost.” I raise an eyebrow, and it makes her laugh. “I know. I’m a ghost, watching the movie Ghost. Ironic.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

Her eyes grow wide. “How have you never seen this movie?”

I shrug and take a handful of the popcorn. “It released before I was born.” My comment makes me wonder if that could be a clue. If she’s seen this movie before, how long has she been in this house, watching movies when no one’s around? “How old do you think you are?”

“I already told you I don’t know. Why?”

“You seem young. The way you talk. The fact that you know how to use a computer. But then you act like it’s crazy that I’ve never seen a movie that came out thirty years ago.”

Willow laughs. “I don’t think that’s a clue. This movie is like a rite of passage; pretty much everyone alive has seen it. Everyone but you. Hell, I’ve seen it, and I don’t even really exist.”

“Stop saying that.”

“What?”

“That you don’t exist. You’ve said it at least three times since we met.”

“It’s no worse than you calling me dead.” She shoves more popcorn in her mouth and leans back, focusing on the movie again. I watch a little bit of it with her, but the irony of our situation is too much.

“This is so weird,” I say.

“The movie? Or watching a movie called Ghost with a ghost?”

“All of it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You know what would be even weirder?”

“What?”

“If another ghost showed up,” she says, grinning. “Then there would be a ghost watching a ghost watch Ghost while in someone else’s body.”

I study her for a moment, then take a few pieces of popcorn and toss them at her face. “You are so strange.”

Kernels of popcorn are all over her shirt, in her hair. She pulls a piece from her shirt and then eats it. I sit back and look at the TV, because looking at her is starting to stir something up inside me. Normally when Layla says something I find funny, I’d laugh and then kiss her.

There are moments when I forget that Willow isn’t Layla while she’s using her body.

I can’t react with her how I would react with Layla. But it’s instinctual for me to just want to grab her hand, or kiss her. But then I remember she’s not the girl I’m in love with, and it’s confusing.

Maybe I shouldn’t put myself in situations like this. Familiar situations where I’m sitting on a bed in our bedroom. It makes everything dangerously blurred.

I let Willow finish her movie, but I go downstairs and check the dryer. The bathing suit is almost dry, so I set it for five more minutes and go to the kitchen. I sit at the table and open my laptop, then go straight to the paranormal forum. I’m curious if anyone has said anything else that might give me any answers as to why Willow is here.

I never updated the group to let them know I did, in fact, speak to the ghost. I certainly haven’t updated them to tell them I communicate with her through Layla. Those two things seem too far fetched, even for a paranormal forum.

I have a notification in the top-right corner of my screen. I open the private messages in the forum and have one unread message from the forum member UncoverInc. I click on it.

Did you ever communicate with your ghost?

I don’t respond to his message. I’m not sure anyone would even believe me at this point. I hit delete, and my in-box is empty again, but then I get a ping and a box pops up in the left-hand corner of my screen. It’s from the same username.

I’ve been waiting for an update. Your post has me intrigued.

The message is live, sent just now in a chat box. I move my mouse over the X to minimize it, but I don’t minimize it. I’m anonymous in this forum, so what would it hurt to talk to this guy? I type,