Ghost Gift

It’s Christmas eve, and it seems like everybody is rushing around, trying to get the last things done before the stores close.

Except for me.

I’m a ghost.

No, not the house-haunting kind. I actually have a job.

Given to me by The Big Guy Himself.

Hey, it beats going to the Hot Place, you know what I mean?

My name is ... was ... Andrew Conner. There isn’t a whole lot I could tell you about me as a living guy. I was a nobody, a tiny cog in the machine, and I don’t think I ever did anything that helped another person.

Boy, is that changed now.

My job is like this. I get sent to a person who is in trouble. I can see, hear, and feel what they do, and I can access their memories so I figure out what’s going on.

But I don’t control them. All I can do is offer ideas, like the little angel on your shoulder.

My first case was a nineteen year old Latino kid who was about to do a drag show.

My next case was forty year old housewife who couldn’t figure out how to tell her husband she was actually a lesbian.

A lot of my cases end up being somewhere on the LBGT spectrum. Maybe they have it a little tougher than straight people, or maybe my boss wanted to open up my eyes a little and drop some of my own prejudice.

It’s a year-round gig, but I am busiest during the Christmas season.

It might surprise you to learn that what is supposed to be the happiest time of the year is sometimes anything but happy.

So I wasn’t really surprised to get the Call, and I found myself attached to a kid who couldn’t be more than fourteen. The kid was dressed in what would have been a pretty dress for a summer picnic but not the best clothes for a cold winter evening.

One peek at the kid’s memories told me why they were out dressed like this. Their dad had come home from work early and found the kid wearing this dress, which had belonged to the kid’s mother, and kicked the kid out on the spot.

I guess the dad couldn’t see what was obvious to me. Even though the kid was born a boy, she was a girl on the inside.

She had now been on the streets for almost two whole days, and was now in deep trouble. Not only was she freezing, but she hadn’t slept or eaten since she left her house, too scared of the reactions of other people to do more but hide in the shadows and alleys.

I’d have to act fast if I was to save her.

I wracked my brain, trying to think of any agency, any charity, anybody at all that would help her and not jump down on her for something that was as much her choice as the color of her skin.

Then I remembered something I had seen in the paper recently about a trans woman who had opened up a shelter for LGBT kids with money she had won in a lottery.

Fortunately, the place wasn’t far away, and I was able to nudge the girl in the right direction.

Even still I thought I was gonna lose her. She stood on the doorstep of the place agonizing about knocking on the door. I seriously thought she would choose freezing to death because of how much she had internalized her dad’s hatred of what she was.

But, she did knock, and was let in by an older lady who introduced herself as Doctor DiMaggio. Once she was warming by the fire with a cup of hot coco in her hand, I felt it was time for me to take my leave.

This case was a bit extreme, but most of the time what saves my ... clients is a simple act of kindness, or acceptance, or even someone being willing to listen.

Maybe if more people did those things, I’d be out of a job.

But for now, there is another person waiting for help, so off I go again ...

End