Goodbye, Evan

6

"I'm a ghost, and you show me a film with Jedi ghost thingies in it? Wow. Way to be sensitive." We're sitting on either end of a massive sofa in Theo's living room watching a huge, curve-screened TV, a bowl of butter popcorn the size of my torso between us. I let Theo eat most of it. When I make the ghost comment, he nearly chokes on a handful.

"Sorry," he coughs. "Do you want me to turn it off?" "No, it's okay. I was only joking. I bet I would've been the biggest Luke Skywalker fanboy if I hadn't died before this came out." Theo looks awkward still, even though I was trying to alleviate the tension.

"How old were you... when you died?" he asks, hastily grabbing a fresh handful of popcorn. He always makes sure to reach for the stuff when I'm not, so our hands haven't even brushed once.

"You look about my age." "I don't want to talk about it," I say, snappily. Theo's popcorn-filled hand goes limp in his lap. "Sorry. That's super fucking insensitive, isn't it? Sorry."

I sigh. "Sixteen. I was sixteen. And I can look any age I want, so I chose the one that I thought would be the best fit for you."Theo silent again and the tension's so palpable that I want to slice through it with a blade. "How... how did you die?" "Theo," I say, voice low. I don't want to go there. "Sorry, sorry. I don't mean to be so intrusive - I'm just don't like not knowing things."

"It's okay. Just... don't ask me again, please." I grab a handful of popcorn so I don't go touching the skin where the scars would be if this body was a year older.

"Okay. Sorry."

"It's okay."

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The movie ends.

Theo yawns, stands, stretches, then looks down at me. By the crease between his eyebrows, I can tell he'd almost forgotten I was there. No wonder - the sofa's so long that I might've forgotten him, too, if it weren't for the constant crunching of popcorn. (And the fact that I kept glancing at him while the movie was playing. His face was so relaxed, no trace of a frown.)

"Do ghosts need to sleep?" I shake my head and stand, dusting the crumbs of popcorn into the empty bowl. "Not as far as I know, but I do pretty often anyway. It makes time pass by quicker when somebody doesn't need my help." He frowns again - in sympathy this time, I believe.

"Must get pretty boring." I shrug. "Gives me a lot of time to think."

Too long.

He coughs "Do you want to sleep now?" I shrug. "Guess it's up to you." "Well, we have plenty of guest rooms, and I'm going to sleep now, so you might as well." He eyes my ancient school uniform.

"Do you need a change of clothes?" I pluck at the scratchy jumper, stretched to a breaking point from the number of times I've grown and shrunk in it. "Honestly, I don't even know if I can change clothes. I've never tried."

"You've been dead, what... forty-five years? And you've never tried to change your clothes - not even once?" I shrug. "I've never had the chance to. Soul calls for me, I help, then I fade back out of existence. Doesn't exactly give me the chance to go clothes shopping." I think what I've done today. Been treated to a sandwich. Gone to a park. Watched Star Wars. Shared popcorn. I don't think I've ever been called out to by a soul and acted so... casually.

There's always been a sense of urgency, life, and death. With Daniel... it's more peaceful. It's unnerving. "Do you... want to change clothes?" he asks. I raise my eyebrows at him. "Ugh! Not like that!" He crosses his arms. "Honestly, the second you tell someone you're gay..." My laughter is strained, but in any other world, it would be genuine. "Fine, then. If you have any clothes going spare, I'd like to find out if I can wear them." I follow him up the stairs and into his bedroom. It's massive, just like the rest of the house. He has a double bed in one corner, a walk-in wardrobe in the other, a desk underneath the window and clothes and bits of rubbish strewn over the floor. Just like any teenage boy's bedroom, except everything in here looks like it costs more than everything I've ever owned combined. Daniel immediately goes over to the wardrobe and starts digging through a set of drawers.