"No," she said. "Get it: I'm dead. I'm a ghost. For real. Can you understand?"

I turned and looked at her. Then, pointing my finger, I slowly and gently poked her in the arm. She was soft to the touch, much softer than I expected, but she was no ghost.

"You're real," I said. "You're not a ghost."

She scoffed and in a scornful tone said, "Oh, and you know all about ghosts, I'm sure!"

I bit my tongue for a moment, then told her, "I will drop you wherever you want to go, but I will not play this game."

---

 
1. The Breakfast Scam
 

Any other day, I wouldn't have stopped for her.

She was hitchhiking on the east end of the Gatling Bridge. Her right hand, her hitchhiking hand, was bent back to her shoulder. The other hand clutched her tiny black skirt, which fluttered dangerously but didn't flip up. Her heels were at least three inches high, and she was perched on the barest margin of road. The shoulder by the bridge is so thin, that if she took even the tiniest half-step backward, she'd tumble head over heels down the embankment.

Above the flimsy, shiny skirt, she wore an equally shiny top. It was white with black polka dots. A deep vee exposed the entire valley between a pair of very round, very full, very soft-looking breasts. Her legs and arms were bare. Her lips and nails were done in a red so heavy it was nearly black, and her eyes were dark and overdone, like a raccoon's mask. She looked as if she'd just emerged from a nightclub, or as if...

... as if... Honestly, my first impression — and it was a hard impression to shake — was that she was a prostitute, left on the road by her last client.

I didn't want to judge... and I didn't want to stare, but traffic was at a near standstill, so I didn't just glance at her; I had a full fifteen minutes to study her in detail. Not that I wanted to, but there wasn't much else to look at beyond the rusty bridge girders and the back ends of trucks. I did my best to not look at her. I was very careful to avoid eye contact, but her arms, her breasts, and especially her thighs, kept drawing my gaze. Her hair, too, kept grabbing my attention, the way it was pulled back from her forehead, then exploded in a mass of tight, light-brown curls. I'd turn my head away, but my eyes kept sliding back. I fought it. I tried to pretend I didn't see her.

I know I'm going to sound cold and mean, but there was no way on earth that I was giving that girl a ride. I absolutely did NOT want her in my car. I refused to get involved in whatever she was up to. I mean, what if she was carrying drugs, and the police stopped me? Or what if she really *was* a prostitue and they arrested me for soliciting sex? Sure, I'd say that I only gave her a ride, but no one would believe it. They'd take one look at her, and call me a pervert.

To top it off, she had a bored, sullen look that I've seen before. I've never experienced anything but rudeness and distain from a woman with that look. It spells trouble; trouble with no upside. It's all pain and no payoff.

As my car moved slowly closer, inch by quarter-inch, I realized — much to my chagrin — that I was going to be sitting right next to her for several minutes. Add to that the fact that there weren't many passenger cars in line for the bridge, which meant I'd be one of the few drivers at her eye level.

Still... I didn't have to give her a ride. I didn't! There wasn't any law. Why was she out there, anyway? She wasn't my responsibility. She couldn't expect me to pick her up.

In fact, dressed the way she was, standing the way she was, she couldn't wait for more than a few moments... if she really was looking for a ride. Any truck driver would scoop her up the moment he saw her.

When at long last, I came to a stop near her, she glanced at me. She must have sensed my disinclination, because the moment our eyes met, her mouth twisted and her face took on this expression that said: Yeah, I get it: You're not going to pick me up. I felt embarrassed and guilty, but at the same time relieved. Her gaze turned to the drivers behind me. My shoulders relaxed. The danger had passed.

And then I found myself shouting, "Hey! You need a lift someplace?"

I've been kicking myself ever since.
 

---

 

The ride was uncomfortable, but uneventful. We didn't talk much. I asked, "Were you out there long?"

"Forever," she replied in a flat, dismissive tone.

I told her I was on my way home from work; that I work nights. She gave me a look of disinterest, so I dropped the subject.

I asked her what she was doing out there by the bridge. She gave me the sort of look you give a dead rodent, and told me, "You know what I was doing out there? None of your business. That's what I was doing out there."

"Hey, I didn't mean anything..." I began, but she cut me off saying, "Nobody ever means anything."

In other words, she was exactly what I expected: rude, spoiled, disdainful, dismissive. And irritating! I mean, what she said made absolutely no sense at all. But who cares? So what? I understood. She was telling me to shut up, so that's exactly what I did.

I dropped her at a address on a bad stretch of Unionway Street — not that there's any good part of Unionway. It's a neighborhood I usually avoid. She disappeared while I was doing a K-turn. I shook myself, locked my car doors, and got the hell on out of there.
 

---

 

I never expected to see her again, but two days later she was standing there again, at the east end of the bridge! Once again, the traffic was at a crawl. My heart sank. If I could have zoomed past her, I would have shot right by. Instead, here I was, stuck again, determined to not look at her and ABSOLUTELY to not give her a ride.

This time, though, she was determined to get in my car.

She didn't wait for me to roll up next to her. Instead, the moment she saw me, she came walking up the line of cars, her heels wobbling on the narrow strip of gravel. She looked directly at me, right into my eyes.

I was uncomfortable, to say the least. For some reason I was even afraid, and started looking around as if there was somewhere I could run, or to find something I could use to ward her off.

But of course there was nowhere to go. And she kept coming, not even looking at the other vehicles.

I shook my head in a slow, very deliberate NO.

When she saw that, her lips compressed to a tight straight line. She looked angry. And I'll admit, that made me feel a bit more afraid. After all, she could pick up a rock and scratch and dent my car... she could bust my windows, if she felt like it, and there was little I could do to stop her.

She stood at my passenger door, glaring at me. She tried the door, rattling the handle insistently, but I'd already locked it. She pounded on the door.

"Go away!" I said. "I'm not giving you a ride!"

"Come on!" she shouted angrily. "You *have* to! Come on! Open this door!"

"I don't *have* to do anything!" I shouted back. "Leave me alone! Get away from my car!"

I turned to look at her, and in that moment her hard, angry look fell apart. Her lip trembled, her shoulders slumped, and she looked as if she might cry. "Please?" she asked. Her voice struck me in the heart. She sounded like a little lost child.

I set my jaw and looked straight ahead. I would not. I could not. There was no frickin' way. I was not going to fall for her crocodile tears. She was NOT getting in my car ever again. I did NOT want to get involved, even minimally, in the life of someone like her.

She knocked on my window with her ring. The sharp sound made me turn my head, and when I did, she looked me in the eyes. "Please!" she pleaded. "Please!"

Now she looked afraid, even desperate.

I sighed, reached over, and opened the door. I only opened it a crack and let her do the rest. I wasn't being rude; if I pushed the door too far, she'd fall down the steep embankment. As she gingerly slipped inside, I braced myself for the smell. She was wearing the same clothes from last time, from two days ago. They had to be pretty rank by now.

To my surprise, they weren't. I mean, she wasn't. I mean, I didn't smell a thing. Not even perfume.

Once she settled inside, I couldn't help but exclaim, "Why in the world are you out here... again?"

She glanced at me, then down at her hands, which were clenched in her lap. She looked miserable. In a whispered groan, she answered, "I was waiting for you."

Oh no. Oh no no no. I was not falling for this! I was not going to pity her. She was not going to weasel her way into my feelings, my life, my bank account, or my apartment! There was no way! So I laid it out straight: "I can give you a ride," I told her. "Today. But that's it. I am not going to pick you up every time you end up at the bridge. I don't care what you do or why you go there. I'm sorry if you're in trouble, but I don't want to know anything about you. I don't know what you want from me, but you're not going to get it. I am NOT interested. Sorry."

"I don't want anything from you," she said in a cold tone.

"Then why were you waiting for me?" I shot back.

"Why are you so hostile?" she asked in a tone of offended surprise.

"Why am *I* hostile?" I repeated in disbelief. "The other day, I gave you a ride, and you wouldn't even give me the time of day. I tried to make polite conversation, and you were nothing but rude! You didn't even say thank you!"

"Thank you," she said in a small voice, taken aback.

In spite of myself I laughed. It was ridiculous. But she wasn't laughing. She looked deathly serious.

"I'll tell you why I was waiting for you," she said. "You're the only person who can see me."

I scoffed.

"Look at me," she went on. "How long do you think I'd wait for a ride, dressed like this?"

I glanced at her bare legs and arms, and her nearly naked breast. Hell, any guy with a half an drop of testosterone would pick her up in...

"Half a minute," I replied. "Tops."

"I was there for hours before you came. Hours! Nobody even honked at me!"

In my mind's eye I remembered her there, waiting, two days ago and today, and I realized she was right. I'd expect the truck drivers to hoot and holler and honk, but there was none of that. All you could hear were truck engines idling. Not one toot or shout. Just as if she wasn't there.

"So nobody noticed you—" I began, but she cut in: "No! Not *notice*! See! NO ONE *SEES* ME! NO ONE!" Then she added in a quieter voice, "Only you."

"I'm the only one who gave you a ride—"

"No," she said. "Get it: I'm dead. I'm a ghost. For real. Can you understand?"

I turned and looked at her. Then, pointing my finger, I slowly and gently poked her in the arm. She was soft to the touch, much softer than I expected, but she was no ghost.

"You're real," I said. "You're not a ghost."

She scoffed and in a scornful tone said, "Oh, and you know all about ghosts, I'm sure!"

I bit my tongue for a moment, then told her, "I will drop you wherever you want to go, but I will not play this game."

She didn't answer.

"Shall I take you to same place as yesterday?"

"Only if you stay," she answered.

"No way," I said. "Look: I am not going to be a part of... whatever scam you're running. I don't care what you want from me or think you need from me—"

"I told you: I don't want anything from you," she countered. "I don't need anything from you!"

I fumed in silence as I headed toward Unionway Street. Suddenly, my stomach growled.

"That's it!" she cried. "Let's go somewhere for breakfast!"

I shook my head. "I'm not going to buy you breakfast."

"You won't," she said. "You can't! You have breakfast. I'll just stand there. If anyone can see me, I'll walk away and leave you alone." She was intense now, focussed like a gambler.

"Okay," I said slowly. I considered her proposal. There had to be a trick in it somewhere, but I couldn't find any possible snag. In fact, her suggestion suited me pretty well. Of course I knew that other people would see her, but that didn't matter. I didn't expect her to keep her word. Whatever happened, whatever she'd say happened — and even if by some wild, crazy chance no one could "see her" — as soon as we got to a coffee shop, we were done. The minute she stepped out of my car, I'd make damn sure she'd never get back in.
 

---

 

I pulled another K-turn on Unionway and headed across town toward the University district.

We drove in silence, both of us looking straight ahead, until she suddenly said, "My name is May. Like the month."

"I'm Ben," I replied, "like the uncle."

There were a few coffeeshops I knew in that area... places I used to frequent a few years back. I stopped in front of one I used to like: a short brick building that used to be a tiny single-engine firehouse. The new owners had done minimal improvements, but it was clean and charming, and their muffins were exceptional.

There was a handful of small metal tables and chairs outside, but the cool weather kept the customers inside.

May trotted in ahead of me and stood in line next to me. A moment later, a petite blonde, dressed in pale earth tones, followed us in and took her place behind us.

I glanced at May and noticed for the first time that she wasn't carrying a bag, a wallet, or anything. Her skimpy clothes were unlikely to have pockets. I sighed, and informed her in an impatient tone, "I'm not going to get you anything, you know."

The blonde behind me frowned. "I don't want you to get me anything," she said with a little sniff.

It was my turn to frown. "I didn't mean you," I told her. "I meant her," and gestured to my right. A woman sitting at the table behind May gave me an strange look. She raised her eyes quizzically at the blonde, who responded with a cautious shrug.

"They can't see me," May explained.

"Phffft!" I replied. The blonde and the woman at the table exchanged big-eyed glances.

When I got to the counter, my manners got the better of my resolve, and I asked May, "Do you want anything?"

The girl behind the counter looked amused and told me, "No, I'm good."

"Not you," I said. "Her!" I pointed directly at May.

The girl behind the counter bit her tongue. I glanced from her to the blonde and back again. "Are you telling me that you don't see this woman here?" They both shook their heads, with a very wary look.

"You're putting me on!" I exclaimed.

"You better pay for your stuff," May said helpfully. "They're starting to think you're nuts."

I handed the girl a five and picked up my coffee and muffin. I stepped out of line and was about to go, when I stopped. There were seven people sitting in the little cafe, and they were all looking at me, waiting to see what I'd do next. So I said, "Don't mess with me, people. You all see this girl standing next to me, right?"

There was silence. I looked from one person to another, incredulous. "Nobody?" I demanded.

There was one guy in the place. He cleared his throat and asked, "What is she wearing?" His girlfriend gave him a look and punched him in the arm.

"Phffft!" I responded, walked out the door, and sat down at one of the tables near the curb. It had to be an elaborate joke, I realized, but I couldn't see how it was done. Sure, May had suggested breakfast, but *I* chose the place.

"How did you trick me into choosing this place?" I asked. "Is this some TV prank, or something?"

May rolled her eyes and glanced at the people inside. "Do you have a cell phone?" she asked me.

"What does that have to do with anything? Do you need to make a call?"

"No," she replied, "but if you put your phone next to your ear, they won't think you're talking to yourself."

"Screw that!" I replied, and she shrugged. I bit angrily into my muffin, and burned my lips a little on the coffee, but I didn't care. May smoothed her skirt and waited patiently. I made the effort to pull my eyes up from her thighs. My glance got stuck on her breasts until I wrenched it away and looked at the empty tables nearby.

"I can see you," she chided.

"Sorry," I said, but I wasn't.

Oddly it seemed that the more I ate, the hungrier I felt. I was considering getting a second coffee and muffin, when the door of the cafe opened, and the blonde who'd been behind me came out. She looked at me in a funny way, as if she was trying to decide something.

May's eyes scanned the girl from foot to head, and I could see from her expression that she was not impressed. Turning to me, she said, "You're covered in crumbs. You look like a slob."

She was right. Blushing deeply, I fluttered my fingers over myself, sending the crumbs flying. May rolled her eyes and shook her head.

The blonde hesitated another moment and then she walked over. "Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked. And as I was saying yes she added, "... and ask you a few questions?"

She put her hand on the chair, then stopped. "Oh, your, uh, friend isn't sitting here, is she?"

"No," I replied, "She's over there," and gestured to my right. "But seriously, you can drop the act. I know that you can see her."

May sighed heavily. "She can't see me," she explained impatiently. "How many times do I have to say it?"

The blonde shook her head no, and said, "Sorry." She hung her bag on the back of the chair and pushed her long straight hair behind her ear. "My name's Claudia," she said, "what's yours?"

"I'm Ben," I replied, shaking her outstretched hand, "and this is May."

May huffed loudly in exasperation. "Get with it, Ben! She can't see me!" She fidgeted for a moment, then tilted her head to look at Claudia's bag. "She can't see herself either, obviously."

Claudia was almost cute, but she had this business-like act that ruined the effect. She crossed her legs, took a sip of coffee, and asked, "How long have you been seeing May?"

"All told, less than two hours," I said. "I gave her a ride Tuesday morning, and I picked her up about a half hour ago today."

Claudia raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean when you say you gave her a ride?"

I frowned. "I picked her up in my car. She was hitchhiking. What else could I mean?"

"I don't know," Claudia replied. "I just wanted to be sure."

"You know she thinks you're nuts, right?" May put in. I gave her a look.

"What was that?" Claudia asked. "Did May just say something?"

"You know she did," I replied. "She said you think I'm nuts."

"Do you think you're nuts?"

"No, I know that I'm not." I was getting a little heated, but hadn't lost my temper yet.

"Then how do you explain that you're the only one who can see May?"

"I'm not the only one who can see her. You can see her, too."

"What do I have to do to see her?"

May huffed loudly in exasperation. "She can't see me! I'm a ghost! I'm dead!"

"If you're dead, how come *I* can see you?" I shot back.

"I don't know!"

Claudia's head jerked back and forth between me and May. "May is dead?" she asked.

"No, she's not dead," I said. "She says she's dead."

Claudia made a strange little noise that sounded like an amazed coo. "This is SO interesting! I mean, a person might say they see a ghost when they're really hallucinating, but you insist that she's not a ghost! I don't know what to make of that!"

I scratched my neck. "What are you, some kind of amateur psychologist?"

She looked offended. "I'm a graduate student in psychology," she countered. She was about to say more, but I jumped to my feet. A policeman was walking around my car, shaking his head. I ran over as he pulled out his ticket book.

"Is this your car?" he asked me.

"Yes, officer," I replied, "Is something wrong?"

"You got an expired inspection sticker," he said, pointing to my windshield. "It expired the end of May, and here it is June."

"Huh!" Claudia exclaimed. "The End of May! Isn't that fitting?"

May scoffed loudly.

"Oh my God," I said to the cop, "I didn't notice."

"Well, look," he said. "You're in violation now. I could put a hook on this car and tow it away. Then you'd be looking at the cost of towing, the impound, and the ticket."

"I'll get it done, I promise."

"That's not good enough," he said. "Any cop that sees you could stop you and take your car. You've got to get it done now and hope nobody stops you on the way."

I looked up, and realized that there was a garage across the street that did inspections. "What if I pull in there right now?" I asked, pointing. "And get it inspected this minute?"

The cop glanced behind him and back to me. "That works," he said. "But if you don't do it, and I see you again with that sticker, I'm going to seize your car. Okay?"

I thanked him effusively as I fumbled for my keys. The policeman stayed there until I'd left my car with the mechanic. I told them I'd be back for the car at five. They told me they would call if there were any problems.

Claudia was still sitting at the table, eating her croissant. May was nowhere to be seen. I didn't bother looking for her. I didn't even glance up the street. One more cup of coffee, I told myself, and then it's home to bed.

While I waited for my coffee, I looked through the window at Claudia, outside. There was something about her that I liked. Regardless of her role in the prank about May, I decided that I wanted to get to know her better. So I brought my second muffin and coffee outside and sat back down. "You still want to talk with me?" I asked with a grin.

She shivered and replied, "Yes, but could we do it inside? It's kind of cold out here."

After we sat down inside, I got her a fresh coffee.

"Where is May sitting now?" she asked.

I shrugged. "She's gone. I couldn't care less where she is sitting or standing or whatever."

Claudia pondered this as she sipped. Then: "Were you worried about the safety of your car?" she ventured.

"No, why?"

"No reason," she lied.

Our conversation stumbled along until she finally understood that I didn't want to talk about May. Once she got off that line of questioning, we suddenly clicked. I don't know where the time went, but we ended up talking for an hour and a half, and it was the most interesting conversation I ever had in my entire life. The only reason we stopped is that my energy began to seriouly fade. I explained to Claudia that I work nights and needed to get to bed.

She gave me a ride home. She told me her last name. She gave me her phone number.

She didn't give me a kiss, but she did give me a smile that I will never forget for as long as I live.

Yes, life was beautiful until Claudia drove off and I entered my apartment building and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

May was sitting, her legs curled under her, right in front of my apartment door.

"No," I said, in a very firm tone.

May huffed and frowned at me.

"You're not getting into my apartment," I told her. "In fact, if you're a ghost, how come you're not already inside? Why didn't you just float through the door? Or better still, the wall?"

"I did do that, Mr. Smarty Pants," she retorted, "but then I realized you'd get all upset if you saw me in there, so I waited for you out here instead."

"Oh, bullshit!" I replied.

At that, my neighbor's door flew open, and Mrs. Laverty put her head out. She was an older lady... not grandmother old, but old enough to think she could tell me what to do.

"Was that you swearing, Ben?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Laverty, that was me."

"I'd don't appreciate that sort of language, Ben, and I'd like to ask you to stop. What on earth are you swearing about, anyway?"

"It's not a what, it's a who," I replied, gesturing at May.

"For the love of God, Ben!" May shouted. "She cannot see me!"

"Who what?" Mrs. Laverty asked.

"What?"

"There is no who," Mrs. Laverty replied. "There is me and there is you, and I certainly hope you aren't swearing at *me*!" She gave me a sharp look, then went inside and closed her door.

"Can I come in?" May asked me.

"What the hell," I replied, exasperated. "You might as well."

Mrs. Laverty knocked rapidly on her door. "Benjamin!" she called, "Language, please!"

"Oh fuck me," I said in an quiet undertone, to which Mrs. Laverty replied, "I can hear you!"

May giggled, and seeing her smile... well, I almost liked her in that moment.

Once she got inside, though, I began mentally kicking myself.

"How did you know where I live?" I asked her.

"I read your address on your registration at the car place," she replied.

"After I left?"

"No," she said. "When you handed it to the man. I don't know why, but I was invisible then."

"Right," I said. "Invisible."

She didn't reply, so I said, "Look: you can't stay. I need to get some sleep."

"It's okay," she said. "Now that I know where you live. I got some things I need to do."

"Cool," I almost said, but the end of the word stuck in my throat as May faded, then vanished, right in front of my eyes.

© 2012 by Kaleigh Way