We ended up passing out on the couch that night. One of the greater things about having a ghost as a cuddle buddy is that because they are mostly insubstantial, even when they are laying on you is that all of your blood flow, remains intact. Your arms do not fall asleep, there are fewer cramps. Now, this is not to say that everything is perfect. I woke up freezing without a blanket and with just the ghost to keep me company. When I woke up shivering, my teeth chattering and my skin a little more blue than it rightfully ought be, she stirred. I do not know if it is a ghost thing or a Lona thing, but she is really slow on the uptake when she first wakes up. She pushed herself up and stretched out only to fall basically back down on top of me, nuzzling my chest. I had basically learned at this point that I was not going to move Lona unless she was the one that wanted to move. After a few more minutes, she tried fighting gravity again and managed to get all the way to her elbows.

“Mm. Mornin', John.” She slurred, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Wait. Can ghosts . . . Can ghosts get the little eye boogers? I mean, they can sleep. But their eyes have no mucus? Well . . . other parts of her had . . . uh . . . mucus. How is it that I've been talking to ghosts my entire fucking life and I don't know anything about them? About their physiology?

“Morning,” I said, still shivering. “Uh, Lona.”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . I don't mean to be rude, but I'm freezing. Can you . . . Would you please get up so I can get dressed? Or at least a blanket?”

“Mm.” She responded, yawning. Then her eyes focused. “Oh, oh my you're blue. You must be freezing.”

She disappeared and reappeared in the kitchen, clothed in her normal sleeping attire, a tank top that stopped somewhere high over her mid-drift and panties. I got up and gathered my discarded clothes. Being a ghost must be convenient. Changing clothes in the blink of an eye. I picked up my phone and looked at the time. 9:45. I was late to work. Really late. I don't really want to go in today. There were no missed calls or texts from anyone. I went into the next room and called my manager, telling him that I had a cold. It's not a lie. If he assumes I'm talking about being sick, then that's his problem. I'm literally cold.

I got in the shower and bathed all of the . . . remnants from myself and warmed up by having the temperature at approximately seven million degrees. The best way to shower. After feeling properly clean again, as well as having a temperature somewhere in the realm of living human, I got out and toweled off. I checked my phone and there was a text. I checked it. It was from Karen. It was a link to about a six-second clip from DragonBall Z Abridged of all things. I clicked it. The clip was of Cooler who said, “Well, I sure hope that someone picks up that phone because I f*cking called it!”

Of course, Lona had told Karen. Of course, she fucking had. God damn it. I typed out a response.

Karen

You: Weeb.

K: Those in glass houses.

You: . . . Touche.

K: Touche? Touchy? Didnt get enough? Ill tell lona. Shell get u up and knock u dwn agn. :)

You: . . . Shut up. Is there something I can help you with?

K: Yea, I want u 2 tell me all the dets. Wat did it feel lyk to fuk a ghost?

K: Also, I have sum other ? Abt ghosts. Help? Coffee?

Truthfully, I did not feel up to it. So much had happened last night that I had to sort through. I think I should tell Lona that we aren't gonna do this. We . . . We just can't. It's not going to end well. I considered the text message again. And how much it would have meant to me if I had someone explain anything to me. Helping me out with actual information, not just random articles on paranormal websites that do not know anything real. Just stuff from movies and books and myths. Things that even if they had any truth to them, to begin with, had been so diluted that there was nothing of value left. I grit my teeth. Yeah, okay. I need to help her. But maybe . . . Maybe I could use this to my advantage.

Karen

You: Okay, but only on one condition.

K: ?????

You: You help me convince Lona that dating me is a bad idea. You agree to that and I'll bring all of the materials I have and try to answer any questions that you have.

K: ... K. 2 hrs. Come alone.

In the next message, she sent me an address. I spent the rest of the morning looking for my old notebooks. I found them. They had all of my observations about ghosts. Most of them were before I was fourteen. Obviously. There were a lot of misspellings and logical inconsistencies. I spent an hour or so typing them up. I could hear Lona in the other room humming happily. I was going to hurt her. It would be better that way, though. After that, maybe we can still be friends. Yeah, right. Before getting dressed, I printed out the document and read it. It had all of the things I definitively knew about ghosts and being a medium in one section and some hypotheses that I had about the nature of ghosts that I had apparently subconsciously revised after meeting Lona.

I got dressed and got my keys. I was going to be a little late. Whatever. Karen would just have to deal. Lona looked up as I headed towards the door. “Hey, where ya goin'?”

“Uh . . . I have a couple of errands to run. Nothing interesting.” I said, pointedly not looking at her face.

“Oh, well . . . Uh. Have fun.” Lona's voice sounded a little hurt. I left before I could regret my decision any more. I suck at breaking up with people. I have not had a lot of practice at it. I was usually the one broken up with. And usually, that is because I am usually just happy to be involved.

I drove in silence, considering everything. Going over what I could help Karen with. When I finally got there, Karen was already sitting there, two coffees on the table. She had her arms crossed and looked pissed. I hesitated but closed the gap. “H-hey.”

“You're late.” She said, testily.

“Yeah. Sorry. I was working on this.” I said, passing her the document. It was about a page and a half. She took it and scanned at it.

“You're a fucking dork, you know that?” She said, holding up the paper. “But this is interesting.”

“Yeah, some of it is things I observed as a kid, some of it is more recent.”

“You think Lona is a new type of ghost? You haven't met another poltergeist other than her?” She asked, casually. I looked away, clenching my jaw.

“Yeah, she's the first.” I looked up at her and reformed my resolve. “I need you to help me with that. She's . . . She won't take no for an answer. Being . . . Being with me is a bad idea.”

“Mm,” was all the response I got from the woman across from me. “You think the reason Lona can do that is because she . . . She sleeps? Do ghosts normally sleep?”

“I am not entirely sure. I think that they need time to recuperate. Regen their energy, ya know?” I said, considering Cynthia, Lona, and all of the other ghosts I had met. “I think that if they spend too much of their energy, it's tied to their essence somehow. So they . . . Fade.”

“Fade? Oh, I see. That's what you call it when ghosts disappear forever. Do you know where they go? Heaven? Hell? Sheol?”

“No idea. Couldn't ask anyone who's been there. It's entirely possible that they just cease to exist.”

“That's fucking sad,” Karen said, staring somberly at the paper.

“If you say so.”

“How could you not think so? You talk to ghosts and you don't care if there's an after-afterlife?”

“Not really. I wouldn't mind not existing a lot of the time. I can't imagine what eternity is like, but it sounds exhausting.”

“Ah, that's . . . Fair, I guess.” She said, thoughtfully. “What about the whole unfinished business thing? Can you help them move on?”

“I tried that a couple of times. But everyone has something they want to do and didn't get around to. Everyone's lists are so long. I once spent a whole summer trying to get my grandma to move on. Eventually, she just Faded without any help from me. Think it had more to do with grandpa dying than it did with anything I did.”

“Oh, so you think he might have been her . . . Anchor?” Karen asked, referencing the paper.

“Maybe. I know that ghosts have stuff they get really attached to. For some, it's where they died or something they owned or really liked. Once those things are gone . . . So are they.”

“And that's the only way you've found to . . . get rid of them, huh? No exorcisms? Rituals?” Karen asked, eyes on the paper.

“Yeah, not that I've found. Most ghosts won't just tell you what their Anchor is either. Most don't even know what it is themselves. Or are lying about that. But yeah. I tried all kinds of different religious ceremonies. None of them worked.”

“What about Ouija Boards?” Karen's eyes met mine.

“No idea, never really tried it. They just seemed too . . . Commercial to be legit.”

“Okay. We'll try that. And I have been looking into this. I have a lot of ideas not covered in your little paper here. The Ouija Board is just the start. I also found some websites that say if I can hear ghosts, maybe I can train my mind to see ghosts, too.”

“Sites? What sites? Also, it's the internet. Not everything is going to be accurate. When I looked into it, I couldn't really find anything but fucking freaks that wanted fuck gho- . . . Nevermind. What sites?” I said, my face flushing quickly with heat.

“Oh, there are tons. Some about ghost hunting and how to get rid of them.” Karen began, her eyes lighting up. She was grinning, but graciously let go of my little slip about people who were attracted to ghosts. “But I don't really care about that. I found this really cool one about Binders!”

“Binders? Like what you keep Magic cards in?” I asked, blankly.

“No, you fucking nerd. People who can bind ghosts to them. Force an Anchor on them. Or Banishers. People who can use banish ghosts and dismiss them. That might be useful to know. Just in case.” Karen said, a smile spreading across her face. “We can try them out on Lona. If they hurt or whatever, we can stop. Maybe do a proper science test and get more than one ghost. Try a double-blind study or whatever. Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Uh, no not really. I don't talk to ghosts anymore. Other than . . . And after we convince Lona not to . . . Pursue things with me, she might not want to do a bunch of tests with me. It might be . . . too painful . . . For . . . Both of us.”

“Oh. That's not going to happen.”

“What's not going to happen?”

“You're not going to convince her of shit, dickless.” Karen said. I am fairly certain the only reason she used the word 'dickless' was for the Ghostbusters reference. She's such a nerd.

“Yeah, well, I have to try. And you said you'd help me.”

“I lied.” She said, smoothly. I glared at her, my hand folding into a tight fist. The rage must have been clear on my face because she held up a pacifying hand. “Stop that. You're not going to hit me.”

“Because you're a girl? I don-”

“No! Because one, I'm a third-degree black belt in Judo. I'd wipe the floor with you.” She said simply. She had no fear of me, even though I must have been a hundred pounds heavier than her. “And besides, you don't want to hurt me. You also don't want to break up with Lona. You're just being a total fucking idiot about it.”

“I don't want to date her! She's . . . She a ghost, for God's sake!”

“Yeah, and my girlfriend clips her toenails at the kitchen table and thinks that cheese curds are the height of cuisine.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything!?” I demanded, anger distorting my voice into a growl.

“Don't take that fucking tone with me, John.” She said, annoyance creeping into her own voice. “What it means is that no relationship is fucking perfect.”

“Oh fuck off!” I said, leaning back. “Your girlfriend likes a food you don't like. Lona is dead. She . . . She's going to stay the same until she Fades. I'm just . . . I'm going to get older. What happens if we are together for ten years? Fifteen? Thirty? She'll have to watch as I get less and less attractive and watch my health decline until I die.”

“We all have to watch someone die, John.” She said. There was no emotion in her voice. It was as cold as . . . well, a corpse. Her tone picked up something. “Besides, this means you're already thinking about a future with her. You've already lost this battle.”

“I think about lots of different futures with lots of people. Women I see at the grocery store, on the street.” I said, in a quiet, defeated tone.

“But she's different,” Karen said, sympathetically. She reached over and patted my hand.

“Yeah, she's better,” I said, staring down at my untouched coffee. It's probably cold by now. Gross. “She . . . She deserves someone better than me.”

Karen laughed at me. Right there in the middle of the little coffee shop. She pointed and laughed at me. People stared. My face got red. So did hers, for the record, but that was because, after a minute of laughing, she could not breathe. Eventually, she calmed down enough. “Get over yourself, you self-loathing bitch.”

“It's not self-loathing! It's an accurate assessment of what I have to offer and what she has to offer.” I said, defensively.

“Oh, this oughta be good. What makes Sammi Wheat so much better than you?” She asked, sarcastically. I hate Ghost. It's such a garbage film.

“She's . . . She just is, okay?”

“Nope. Get specific. Get really specific.” She countered.

“Lona . . . She's nicer than anyone should be. Always understanding. Kind. And pretty. And she's a fucking ghost! Why isn't that enough?”

“I don't know. Why isn't that enough, John? You're the one who fell for her.” Karen said, flatly. This is impossible. I can't win against her. She's using her. . . words and logic . . . to trick me! I . . .

“She's kind and funny and understanding. She's pretty. If . . . If she weren't dead, she'd never look twice at a guy like me.” I said, my head sinking down.

“Oh my god, you're such a whiner!” Karen countered. “Loans, get out here.”

My head snapped up, looking around. For a moment no one appeared, but I thought I heard whispering from Karen's side of the table. She shook her head and whispered something back. Then after another moment of back and forth and me stewing in a mixture of mortification, rage, and self-hatred, Lona appeared next to Karen. The look on her face was somewhere in between disappointment, sadness, and a little bit of pleasure. Just the tiniest bit. I broke eye contact with her. My heart had started beating quicker just from seeing her. God, it's just like high school all over again. A pretty girl looks at me at all and I can't fucking breathe. I thought. Lona sat down next to Karen and stared at me for another moment.

“So,” I began, my tone as icy as I could make it. Despite the situation, I had missed Lona. Because I'm pathetic. “You came with me. Seems kind of rude.”

“I asked her to come,” Karen said. “Told her you were having doubts because you're a coward.”

“I'm not a coward. I'm being practical.” I spat back at her.

“Practical?” Lona asked, her tone even. “Like, making decisions without asking me is practical, hmm? Seems totally disrespectful.”

“I . . .” I began. When you put it like that, it really does make me sound like an asshole. I gathered myself and looked back at her with my coldest smile. “All the more reason to not date me, my dear.”

“Is this what every straight relationship is like?” Karen asked the air. “Are the straights okay?”

“That's not fair and you know it, John.” Lona said, quietly. She looked down at the table. I could see tears brimming in her green eyes. “The things you say about me, they're really sweet but you also must think I'm really shallow.”

“I-” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“I wouldn't ever give you the time of day because I'm pretty? Like, what kind of bullshit is that?” Lona demanded.

“Some small dick incel shit, honestly.” Karen chimed in. Lona looked over at her, annoyance and confusion playing across her face.

“Uh . . . Lona, an incel is someone who is 'involuntarily celibate'. They . . . Uh. They usually feel like they're not attractive enough or good enough for a woman to give them the time of day. And are pretty upset about it.” I said, not really willing to meet her eyes.

“Oh. Yeah. That sounds about right.” Lona said, nodding. “You're totally acting like an incel. And you should get the hell over it. I don't like you because I'm dead and you're the only option. I like you because you're sweet to me. You usually take my feelings into account. You're cute. You're kind. And I don't know about the future. I don't want to watch you die, but we'll figure that out when we get there. Like, the only thing unattractive about you is your insistence that you're unattractive.”

“Like all incels, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Karen added, nodding. She gestured at herself then at Lona as she continued to speak. “Even I know you're not terrible looking, bro. Granted, I'm not going to fuck you, I'll leave that to my girl here.”

I hung my head. I was tired. I felt like I had run a mile. Arguing just requires too much brainpower. “So, about those experiments you want to run, Karen. Do you think that any Ouija Board would work or do you want to try out a specific brand or style?”

“John,” Lona said, calmly. I did not raise my head. “Look at me.”

I did so, without saying a word. It was hard to look at her. It was kind of like being in the principal's office. “Like, I need you to tell me that you're not going to pull this again. Talk to me. Not Karen, not anyone else. Like. Talk to me.”

“That's . . . Fair. I'll . . . Talk to you about our relationship first,” I said, quietly. She nodded.

“Thanks, Kare.” She said and kissed the woman's cheek, who promptly shivered.

“How the fuck do you deal with that, John!? Jesus! If she fingered me, I'd squirt ice cubes.” Karen exclaimed, then broke out laughing. We all did. After we all calmed down. “I figure we can try some experiments with Lona here. Well, some experiments you two kids can do alone, and as for the rest, we can see if we can find any ghosts willing to help us out. To make sure Lona isn't a weirdo. Well, I mean, a weirdo for a ghost. She's definitely a fucking weirdo. And fucking a weirdo.”

Lona grinned at this proudly, glancing between the two of us. I sighed. “Right. I'll order a couple of Ouija Boards in the meantime. We can try a few different options and see if there's a difference. Oh. Lona. I ordered your doll. It'll take like a month and a half, two months to ship, okay?”

“Oh. That long . . . Well, I guess I'll just have to find other things to entertain me until then.” She seemed upset at first, but on the second sentence, she eyed me hungrily and there was a certain huskiness to her voice. Karen cracked up again.

“Ho my God! The nympho and the necrophiliac. It's a tale as old as time.” She sang the last bit to the tune of the Beauty and the Beast song.

“Karen, I hate you.”

“Liar.” The two women said in unison. Which was creepy. These two were really close already. Well, that's good. Lona needs a friend.