Cabin Pressure

“I don’t really believe in ghosts,” a fellow passenger offered as I took my window seat on my American Airlines flight back home to Atlanta.  I would get that push back from time to time especially after an appearance on the Today Show, Montel or Wendy Williams but it had been years.  I was returning from my audition in New York for a new show called Ghost Wanderers for the Supernatural Channel and hoped that it would be my comeback after living in relative obscurity as a medium the last few years.  “I mean – ghosts are just figments of the imagination – some hysterical reckoning that doesn’t exist,” he continued getting a little more agitated. You either had people who believed in what you did or those “debunkers” who didn’t want to consider that there might be a world beyond their own “philosophy.”  The man in the aisle seat was the latter, a person who could not conceive of anything that was not part of the here and now.  The disbeliever was in his late 40’s, trim and wearing a light blue polo shirt, and black jacket with black pants.  He smoothed down his salt and pepper tinged hair and got out his laptop to do some work.  I hoped that he would forget that I was in the same row. 

“That’s nice,” I said off handedly – trying not to draw him into a long conversation as I got out my copy of A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini who was becoming one of my favorite authors.   I put my briefcase under my seat and opened the book.  “Well, it’s just not possible for there to be ghosts – once you’re dead – you’re dead,” he continued not noticing my disinterest.   As I kept my face in my book, I heard a familiar voice in the seat next to me.  “Hey Princess, where are we off to now?” he asked.  It was Bob the Atheist Ghost, an entity that usually popped up at the most inconvenient times.  He had died in his late 50’s less than a year ago and still wore what he usually did in life - a pair of Khakis and an oxford shirt with a pair of glasses because apparently his eyesight didn’t get better post-mortem.  Being an atheist, he could not comprehend that he was dead and his way of handling the situation was to dismiss his whole afterlife as a long drawn out dream that in which the spirits and people he met were Jungian or Freudian archetypes of his psyche. “Hey, A Thousand Splendid Suns – I loved The Kite Runner,” he volunteered and settled into the center seat.

“Bob, this is not a good time,” I whispered hoping that Mr. Polo shirt could not hear me.  I had tried communicating with Bob telepathically, but he just would not have it.  “Oh, I get it – you just want a nice quiet flight – just you and your book.  I get that, I mean I hate it when I get on planes and the person next to me just blathers on and on about this or that or how much they missed their cats.  I swear – one time, I was sitting next to this one woman after a Dragon-Con convention and that’s all she did was talk about her cats and had like 20 pictures on her cell phone.  I mean if she had been cute and wanted to join the Mile High Club it would have been one thing but geez, you can only take so much talk about tabbies,” he continued.  I rolled my eyes and kept reading.

The plane started to taxi down the runway and we were thankfully air borne so

I would be home in just a few hours.   I reflected on the new show and its format– I was going to be partnered with two ghost hunters who would verify my findings but our initial meetings had been rocky.  I have a great distrust of paranormal investigators because many times they stir up energy that they cannot handle.  The feeling was mutual from Jack Bronson who thought all mediums were fakes and his friend Dave served as the intermediary between the two of us.  Even with this slight misgiving, I was being given a chance to get back to making a living at what fate had thrust upon me - the ability to talk to dead people. 

After we were safely in the air, the flight attendant started to come around with refreshments for the passengers.  The man in my row ordered a beer.  “Hey, Ms. Gardeen, do you want something?” he asked in a tone which was much less hostile than when we first sat down.   If this had been a few years ago, I would have ordered three rum and cokes with lime and sucked them down with no problem, but I was on the wagon now and my new found sobriety would allow only a soda.  “I’ll have a Diet Coke please,” I responded.   “Hey do you remember how slutty stewardesses were back in the 1960’s?  That whole coffee, tea or me stuff?  I gotta wonder how many of them made it into the mile high club!”  Bob remarked looking over our young flight attendant Beth.  “Oh my God, did you ever have a girlfriend?” I whispered trying to keep my voice low, however the aisle man heard me.

“Actually, I’m divorced like you – my wife used to be a big fan,” he volunteered and started to switch seats to get closer to me and ended up actually sitting on top of Bob.  “Oh my God, the balls on this guy!” Bob said even though he didn’t believe in a supreme being.  “Hey, I’m sorry I was so abrupt before – it’s just that my ex used to watch you all in the time on the talk shows and it just stirred up some – well, you know.  Sorry again. My name is Marty,” he said putting out his hand. Bob went to slap it and I awkwardly shook his hand while trying to bat Bob’s away.  Bob was now in the aisle seat.  He was looking over Marty’s shoulder and making faces.  “Much nicer to meet you this time around Marty,” I said sweetly. 

I tried not to be too distracted by Bob and focus in on the conversation but out of the corner of my eye I could see the apparition of a platinum blond woman in her mid-40’s in a mini-skirt dress with a teased hairdo.  Her frosted pink lipstick gave off a strange hue.  Only Bob and I could see her and he was instantly transfixed.  “Well hello there –“ he said lecherously.  She knocked the drink out of Beth’s hand and laughed.  “Oh boy,” I said forgetting that Marty was now having a conversation with me.   Beth apologized for spilling my Diet Coke.  “I’m so sorry – I’m not sure what happened,” she said wiping herself and what she thought was an empty seat with a white dish towel.  Bob had a goofy smile on his face as she ran the towel over his ghostly legs.  “It’s a good thing I was not sitting there,” said Marty leaning closer to me.  

Bob brushed the soda off his clothes and was surprised to find that it didn’t even stain.  “Must be because it’s diet,” he mused as he started to walk toward the woman from the 1960’s.  She paused for a moment – surprised to see him and the fact that he could see her.  “Hey there, I’m Bob – what’s a nice girl like you doing on a plane like this?”  The woman regarded him with quiet amusement.  I tried to keep my eye on them and also tried to stay engaged with Marty the non-believer who still was intent on getting to know me better.  “So where too after you land in Atlanta?” Marty asked.  He seemed to have gone from dissing me to wanting to get to know me much better and I found his tactic interesting.  Not that there was a chance in hell we’d get together, but it was a distraction from watching Bob hit on a ghostly woman who was clearly out of his league.  “I will probably just go home and relax – it’s been a grueling few days,” I replied carefully still keeping an eye on Bob like a mother watching her toddler at a crowded playground.  “Well hello yourself, I’m Loraine,” replied the female ghost as she gave Bob the once over.  Beth walked through the two ghosts unaware of what was happening and offered me a Diet Coke with lime which I gratefully took.  The female apparition tried to trip her as she walked back to the refreshment cart but Bob stopped her thinking that he was helping.  

“Hey, wait a minute – do you have something against this young lady?” he asked not realizing the shit storm he was about to open up.  “I don’t like stewardesses, they’re little whores!” Loraine shouted to Bob and her tone made me jump.  Marty noticed how apprehensive I was.  “Hey, don’t worry – if we hit turbulence, these pros know how to handle it,” he said reassuring me which he didn’t need to do.  I have flown hundreds of times in both this country and Europe, but this was the first time I had seen a ghost this aggressive while we were mid-air. 

“For God’s sake Loraine, for the final time, I didn’t have sex with the stewardesses on the last flight – when are you gonna believe me?” This ghostly voice came from a nice looking a male ghost who was dressed in a 1960’s pilot’s uniform and hat with wings on the front of it.  It was clear that he had a relationship with the woman who was now eyeing Bob.

“How could you cheat on me 10,000 feet up with these bitches? I know you used to screw around on me at the layover hotels but while you were flying the plane?!” she continued to shriek at the pilot. 

Well that gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘cockpit’,” Bob said grinning turning to the pilot and trying to hi-five him.  “Making the mile-high club has been something I’ve had on my bucket list for some time,” Bob continued as both ghosts looked at him confused. 

“Who is this?” the pilot asked.   Loraine licked her pink lips and smiled.  

“He’s my revenge, Peter!” she said defiantly.  She leaned up on Bob and gave him a passionate kiss which surprised him.  He paused having a hard time figuring out how to reciprocate.  Eventually he did, awkwardly grabbing her rear end and squeezing. 

“Now, how do you like it?” Loraine asked looking directly at her ex-husband. 

“I like it a lot – this is pretty hot,” replied Bob not realizing he was a pawn in an afterlife tug-of-war. 

“Get your filthy hands OFF my wife!” Peter bellowed which was actually so loud the rest of first class heard the word “OFF” and startled a little bit.  Beth looked around trying to figure out where that sound came from.  Bob let go of Loraine’s ass and sat down quietly back in our row. 

Marty’s attention had turned from me to the sound- “What the hell? -“ he started.  “It’s probably an audio thing.” I said and motioned to the three ghosts to follow me to the galley.  “I need to ask Beth about getting another Diet Coke,” I said as an excuse to get up from my seat and sucking down what I had left in the glass.

Bob got up obediently and followed me – the other two ghosts looked at me quizzically because apparently they had never encountered a medium.  “Okay, all three of you – I get that there are some very strong feelings right now but you need to keep them under control and not scare innocent people –“

“Those little whores are not innocent – they ruin marriages,” Loraine said looking at Peter who was getting more agitated. 

“You ruined our marriage with your jealousy – I never gave you’re a reason to doubt that I was faithful but you just couldn’t let it go until one day – sure if I was going to do the time I might has well do the crime –“ he shot back.  Obviously their marital issues did not stop when in fact death did do them part.

“So you did the stewardesses!  Oh wow, I get it now.  This is all part of my deep seated issues with relationships.  This man is my ideal –a strong handsome guy and the woman is the person I’ve always coveted.  So if a guy like that can’t keep a woman like this – what chance do I have? This must be where my fear of commitment comes from!” said Bob smiling at his revelation which was not helping the situation in the least.

“Perhaps, my husband deserves a taste of his own medicine,” she said eyeing Bob like a hungry lioness.   “How would you like to make it into the Mile High Club?” she said leaning into Bob so he could see her cleavage straining out of the tight dress. 

“Okay, I think we can work this out like adults,” I said trying to play a psychic marriage counselor. 

“It’s too LATE!” Loraine screamed in which the cabin heard a woman’s voice say, “LATE!”   Beth came up and asked me to return to my seat since they were having some audio problems and were trying to locate the problem.   As I turned to go back into first class, I could hear banging in the bathroom.  Bob and were Loraine moaning but it was not sexual – it actually sounded the way you would think that ghosts would moan in the hereafter.   I turned quickly and sat back down not wanting to be anywhere near Bob’s “initiation.”  Beth knocked on the door and asked the people in the bathroom to return to their seats.  When she didn’t hear an answer, she knocked again and then got a key to open the door.  She gasped when she saw the water splashing out of the sink by itself.  Being the trained professional she was, Beth pretended that nothing had happened and reassured the passengers near the bathroom that the hand soap had fallen off the sink and that was the noise they were hearing. 

“Hey – did you hear that other sound burst?” asked Marty looking at me like I was somehow responsible for the random events. 

“I did, they’re working on the audio system to see what’s happening,” I replied.  Just then the captain came on the radio.  “Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this is your captain.  We have reached our cruising altitude of 36,000 feet and have a 10 mile visibility and the winds about 40 miles per hour.  We seem to be having some audio problems but don’t worry they are part of the sound system and don’t affect the operation of the plane.  Thank you for your patience and thank you again for flying American Airlines.  We should be arriving at Hartsfield in Atlanta in about two hours,” he clicked off the microphone. 

Bob and Loraine appeared from the bathroom – with Bob’s face covered in an eerie pink lipstick hue, zipping up his khakis and Loraine adjusting her wigette and rearranging her dress.  However, neither one of them had the calm in their face that you would expect after a mid-air tryst.   Bob sat down next to Marty.  “Well that didn’t go as planned – who would have thought those bathrooms were not conductive to a quickie – I’m really disappointed,” Bob explained.  “Maybe that captain actually nailed them in the cockpit,” Bob started to giggle when he realized he just said the words – “cock” and “pit.” 

Before I could respond, Loraine came down the aisle with blood in her eyes, literally, there was blood seeping from her eyes and not in a Megyn Kelly kind of way.  “You pathetic example of a man!” she seethed – her eyes nothing but sockets hemorrhaging red fluid.  “Oh God!” Bob exclaimed asking for help from a deity he did not believe in.   Magazines started to fly and overhead compartments started to open threatening to spill their contents onto helpless passengers.  People started to gasp and hold onto their seats but the turbulence was coming from the inside of the plane.   Just then Peter stepped forward and grabbed Loraine from behind, the magazines landed in the aisles and the compartments clicked back shut. 

There was an uncomfortable silence in the cabin and Marty’s eyes bored into mine.  “What the hell is happening?” he asked quietly.  “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” I whispered back hoping that Peter could keep Loraine contained until we landed.  “Hey, I’d really like to wake up now, this dream is getting just a little trippy,” Bob said looking at Peter who was trying to restrain his wife.  Suddenly she disappeared.  Peter looked around trying to get her before she struck again.  “I think her husband has a handle on this,” said Bob, picking up a copy of Sky Mall.  “Hey look, you can get a mini-desk vacuum and Smurf talking electric toothbrushes for under $20!” he said trying to ignore the flaming pot of rage that he had ignited.

The passengers were shaken up and a few started to cry.  The captain came back over the intercom again trying to steady the situation.  “Ladies and gentleman, I have to apologize for the turbulence, I’m not sure why the compartments opened but we are doing everything we can to figure this out and we apologize for any inconvenience, please stay seated as the fasten seat belt signs are on,” he assured and his demeanor did help to calm things down.   Marty looked at me, “You can see what’s happening right?  I mean you know don’t you?” he asked with a touch of fear in his eyes.  “Yes and I might need some help if things escalate.  Would you be willing to help me if I asked you?” I said hoping I’d have an ally if I needed one.  “Okay, sure,” he said with uncertainty. 

Beth was still looking composed and the rest of the flight attendants took her lead and started to make sure the overhead compartments were locked.   Some of the passengers were picking up magazines and drinks that had spilled around them in their seats. There was an eerie quiet in the cabin.  It was unnerving because I was pretty sure that Loraine would be back to strike again. 

Bob looked around – “Hey princess, when do we land?  I’ll feel better when we’re on the ground,” he said tensely.  I wanted to respond directly to him but did not want to raise any more suspicions with flight attendants or fellow travelers.  “Marty, I need to talk to someone but I need to make it seem like I’m talking to you so no one freaks out – would you be willing to just look and respond like we’re having a conversation?”  I asked calmly.  “Yes,” he replied carefully.  

I turned to my atheist apparition, “Okay, Bob – you have made a big mistake by angering that woman and her husband.  I need to find out what the trigger was that brought both of them on this flight in the first place, so if Loraine looks like she’s going to try to hurt anyone, you need to work with Peter to stop her, okay?”  Bob looked at me like a six year old who had been caught doing something bad and now had to face the consequences. 

“Okay Sophia, I’m sorry.  I mean the sex wasn’t even that great. I just thought maybe I might finally meet someone and have that one night or day stand that I could brag about with the guys.  Despite what you might have heard, scientists can be real assholes to one another – always bragging about this discovery or that and always lying about sex – I just wanted to be able to join in with some real life experience.  I’ve never been good with women and I didn’t realize what a psycho she is,” he replied looking genuinely remorseful.  

Marty nodded while I was talking.  “Who are you calling a psycho?” a woman’s voice growled.  Loraine had now transformed from a 1960’s housewife in go-go boots into a she-demon with a red face, blood coming from her face and eyes and long claws who was intent on killing the female flight attendants as revenge for her husband’s infidelity.  I tried not to react but her appearance rattled me and it showed.  “What’s the matter – what do you see?” asked Marty.  I tried to smile and make it look like nothing was wrong - but holy shit - everything was wrong.  

Bob looked up and saw Loraine and gasped.  “Is this what happens to women after sex on an airplane?”  He started to tremble and the seat started to shake which everyone could see.  Beth walked over to our row to see if something mechanical was causing the seat to vibrate.  “Bob, please stop, everything is going to be fine, but you need to hold it together,” I said and Marty nodded still playing along.   The seat stopped shaking, and Beth looked at me quizzically and took a few moments before she started to speak.  Again, her demeanor was very professional but I could see that her composure was starting to waver.  “Miss Gardeen, this might seem strange but I was wondering if you could take a moment to join me in the galley with our pilot.”  I nodded, grabbed a vile from my purse, put it in my pocket discretely and walked with Beth past the rows of passengers who looked pale and shaken up – the flight was nearly silent which just made things more eerie. 

We stopped in the galley where I had the ghostly conference just a few minutes before.   The pilot joined us.  He was an older man in his late fifties with pure white hair and a kind face that was looking a little frayed.  His name plate said Caption Simmons.  “Miss Gardeen, I usually don’t do this – meet with passenger’s mid-flight but these audio bursts, the magazines flying and the compartment doors opening – there does not seem to be a rational explanation.  I know who you are and I just needed to see – to ask…” his voice trailed off. 

“Okay since you asked – is there something on this plane that might have come from a crash site that could be triggering these episodes?” I asked looking around and for the moment the cabin seemed to be quiet.

Both Beth and Captain Simmons looked at each other and then the captain started to speak.  “I’ve been a pilot for over 20 years and I’ve always been interested in plane crashes and how they happened.  I happened to be out in the Everglades with my kids near Pine Island.  We were walking near the trails when I saw a dull silver object in the saw grass.  I walked over carefully knowing how sharp saw grass is and how easily you could get sliced up.  I looked closer and it was a man’s watch and wallet.   At first I figured it someone had lost it on an airboat ride but as I looked in the wallet, I could see some ID even with all the mud and all these years I could still make it out.  The wallet belonged to a Peter Ossman.  It had a wedding ring in the billfold and a wedding photo that was pretty well preserved.  The watch was crusted over but when I took it to a jeweler to have it cleaned up – it had an inscription ‘To Peter - forever my love Loraine– 6/29/63.’  When I researched it further, I found out that Captain Peter Ossman was the pilot of the ill-fated Flight 802 that crashed in the Everglades in 1968.  I wanted to get the watch back to the family.  I found out that he still has a brother who’s living in Atlanta and had arranged to return it to the family.  You know from one pilot to another but then strange things have started to happen on this flight..” he finished looking at me tensely. 

I took a moment before I spoke.  “The watch, wallet and especially the ring and the wedding picture can be trigger objects for ghosts.  I’ve seen Captain Ossman and his wife Loraine on-board.  She’s very jealous and thinks that he cheated on her with flight attendants which is why she’s been so mean to you Beth.”  Beth gasped and her composure started to wane for a few moments and then regained it as I continued. “The audio bursts were caused by the ghosts as well the other strange things that have been happening.  The pilot’s wife is very unstable, but Captain Ossman is trying to help and he’s very protective of the plane and the passengers.   I will encourage him to keep her under wraps, but we need to keep her away from the cockpit.  I have a vile of holy water on me - maybe if I can get some salt to put by the door that can repel her –“ I continued.

Suddenly Loraine jumped up from behind put her bloody hands around Beth’s neck.   Beth’s eyes got wide and she leaned backward and had trouble breathing as Loraine’s bloody claws seemed to grasp tighter.  Captain Simmons tried to help but could not see what he was supposed to be fighting.  Bob jumped up without thinking and tried to yank Loraine off the young woman who was gasping for air.   Peter then appeared and pulled his wife’s arms back as Beth fell forward into the galley.   “Captain, please get back into the cockpit – I’ll try to keep her away from the flight deck,” I whispered trying not to alarm the other passengers.

Loraine ran down the aisle with Peter and Bob close behind.  Marty came up and helped Beth to her feet.  I looked in the galley and tried find salt to put in front of the entrance of the cockpit to keep Loraine out.  The cabin got darker as the sun set and there was a ghostly hue coming from the electronic devices that the passengers were using while feverously texting– the clicking sounds of people trying to send frantic messages to the outside world.   The pong of the “Fasten seatbelt sign” continued as I started to put the salt along the cockpit door.

Suddenly, the plane started to lurch forward.  This time it was not from within the confines of the cabin but looking out the window, I could see the plane was actually starting to go into a downward plunge.  “Bob, Peter, you have to stop her – she’s in the cockpit,” I yelled over the sounds of the screaming passengers as both Beth and I lost our balance.  

Bob and Peter hurried down the aisle and walked through the security door.  Beth looked at me – “Who are Bob and Peter?” she asked as we tried to stand back up.  I closed my eyes and tried to focus in on what was probably chaos at the front of the plane. 

I saw the pilot, co-pilot and the navigator trying to maintain altitude – they were communicating in an even tone which belied the fact that the plane seemed to be out of control.   I saw Peter trying to get control of the altimeter as Loraine’s ghostly face was looking in from outside the plane.   I crawled to the door of the cockpit and shouted, “The watch and the wedding picture – hold them up – remind them of who they were – please!!” I begged.  

Captain Simmons grabbed the items which had spilled on the floor – he felt his hand being wrenched open by someone he could not see.  The plane was now in a full descent and the screaming was deafening.   Peter held up the watch and the wedding picture – “Look Loraine- this was us and it can be again, it’s not too late – but if you kill these innocent people you will be forever damned, there will be no redemption and your hell will be eternal – stop now and you have a chance at happiness with me,” he shouted.  The plane was now in a 45 degree incline.  Marty tried to shield both Beth and I with his body as the snack cart started to slide towards us.   I felt the vile of Holy water slide out of my pocket and tried to catch it as it rolled away.  “Dammit,” I muttered realizing that might be my last chance to try to get rid of Loraine if she did not comply with Peter.   Marty managed to stop the cart with his legs just as it was about to hit us.  The angle of the plane started to make me dizzy and lightheaded.

In the cockpit, I heard loud voices, screeching and a ghostly scream of pain and then silence.   The plane started to right itself and after a minute of uncertainty it seemed to be leveling off.   The sounds of sobbing passengers were replaced by cheering.   Marty stood up and pushed the cart back into place as he helped me and Beth to our feet.  

“Wow, that was close,” said Bob as he walked out of the cockpit, visibly shaken and putting his glasses back on.  “What was in that vile thing?” he asked.

“It was Holy water, did you use-“ I started not quite sure how I was going to finish my sentence.

“Okay, I thought it was like ghost mace – Loraine started to come after Peter and me with the face of a serpent saying she didn’t care and was going to crash the plane.  I saw the vile outside the door so I grabbed it to see if she would in fact stop if I threw some in her eyes.   She screamed – turned white for a second and then these creatures that looked like gargoyles came from the sky and took her away.”

I saw Peter emerge from the cockpit, still holding the picture, watch and wedding ring.   He looked sad – like a superhero who could not save the one person he intended to even though 150 people owed him their lives. 

“Excuse me ladies and gentleman – this is your Captain.  We are going to land in Asheville North Carolina to make sure that we don’t have any more technical problems– we should be landing there in about 10 minutes.  You can get a connecting flight to Atlanta tomorrow morning and will get a travel voucher for a stay at a local hotel for the evening.  We apologize for the inconvenience and as always and thank you for flying American Airlines.”

Marty looked at me and smiled.  “So I guess it’s going to be a little while before we get to Atlanta.  I happen to do business quite a lot in Asheville and know the art district pretty well.  I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner in funky bistro and I can get us rooms at the Biltmore if you would like – I’m actually really good friends with the manager.” 

I regarded this man who seemed so hostile earlier who ended up keeping me from being crushed by a run-away snack cart full of pretzels and Sprite.  “That’s sound heavenly, I would love that,” I said smiling back.  Marty nodded and walked back to his seat looking up numbers to make the arrangements for the rest of the evening.

Just then, there was a white light that appeared next to Peter.  It was a younger more innocent version of Loraine – the way she looked in their wedding picture.  She beamed at Peter and nodded.   “But I thought those gargoyle things got her,” said Bob who was suddenly right next to me.  “I gave her that mace stuff.” 

“That was holy water Bob, you sprinkled her with holy water and it released her demons.  She’s at peace now and wants Peter to go with her,” I replied. 

“First off, I don’t believe in that stuff – that's crazy talk. Let’s just say it was fluid for her contacts and she can see clearly now,” he tried to reason.

“Oh, yes Bob, she can see very clearly now,” I replied as I watched Peter and Loraine float up past the cabin ceiling and into the orange, purple and gold clouds illuminated by the setting sun.

Sophia's Carol

“Hello, my name is Sophia Gardeen and I am a nationally recognized medium here to answer all your questions about spirits and ghosts on this Christmas Eve.”  I sat there, looking into my laptop camera hoping someone would ask me a question so I wouldn’t feel so alone. It was December 24th for God’s sake and here I was - once as big as the Long Island Medium, hoping someone was watching my little webshow which to date had gotten a whopping 200 views in since I started doing it three weeks ago.  The chatroom seemed flat until I saw a question from one of my 10 viewers at the time.  
    SkinFlute69 typed in “Merry Christmas - would you suck my—“  
    “Oh my God,” I gasped realizing I had finally hit rock bottom.  Just then an apparition appeared next to me.  He looked like a college professor - his gray hair and goatee were messy. He wore a plaid button down shirt with a pen in his front pocket and khakis.  He still had his glasses on of all things - apparently he didn’t  think his sight would improve in the afterlife. 
     “I’m Bob and I have a real question.  If I were dead, would I know it?  I mean I’m an atheist so this is impossible right?”
  

     The last thing I wanted to do was to spend Christmas Eve with another ghost - seeing how ghosts had done nothing but ruin my life. 
     “Bob, I’m in the middle of my web show with my audience,” I said gruffly trying to shake him off. 
      “Your audience of 10, nine of which I’m pretty sure are SkinFlute under different screen names,”  he said matter-of-factly. “Look I just walked through a wall - solid matter to get here.  No one can do that and frankly I’m a little freaked out,” he continued.  I looked at him and my lackluster number of viewers. 
     “Okay, you’re right - nobody gives a shit,” I replied as I closed the laptop, ended the web show and walked over to my bar.  I poured another glass of Merlot. “I know this must be very upsetting for you, but how long ago do you think you died?”  This was not new to me.  Newly dead people would frequently seek me out and try to get clarity.  As much as possible - I would try to help them along with the hope that once they got their answers they would go onto their next step, heaven, hell or somewhere in between.  

      “Well, I don’t think I’m dead, I mean if I were dead, it would be black - stillness - nothingness.  But I’m walking and talking.  How is this possible?” 
      “What were you before - I mean what did you do?” I asked hoping each question would bring me closer to a way to get rid of him. 
     “I was-I mean-I am a scientist- I believe in science -” 
      “Okay, if I explain it to you scientifically, will you go away and leave me alone?” I said hoping he’d actually act on it. 

     “Fair enough,” he replied. 
     “Okay, what is the theory of the conservation of energy?” I asked feeling like I could put it in terms he would understand.
      “Energy is neither created or destroyed, it only changes form.” 
      “Correct,” I concurred, “Therefore that energy - that thing that made you Bob - at the point that you died - it manifested into something new - in this case it became a ghost - you are a ghost Bob!”  He thought about it for a few seconds. 
      “I’m sorry - that can’t be right.  I think therefore I am - that’s fact. This is crazy - it must be some sort of dream,” he declared still not grasping the truth. 
      “Look Bob, I know it must be tough to die on Christmas Eve - “
      “I’m an atheist - Christmas Eve means nothing to me.”  
      “Okay, if you go back to your body when it gets discovered, you will see what really happened and you will get some closure.  Now good night and good luck,” I said as I finished off my second bottle of wine and walked upstairs. Bob faded out. 

    I stood in the shower trying to wash away another lousy Christmas Eve.  Ever since Jess and I divorced, the holidays just didn’t mean anything anymore.  I turned to get the shampoo when Bob popped up in a shower cap. 
      “Hey, do you have a second?  I have another question,” he asked as I gasped and dropped the soap. “Here, let me get that.”  He bent over. 
      “GET OUT,” I shouted. Bob tried to say something else but thought better of it and once again faded out. 

      I got out of the shower, got in my robe and sat on my bed with a present that Jess had given me years ago which I had literally never opened - a first edition autographed volume of A Tale of Two Cities - a Charles Dickens’ classic.  He had found it in an antique book store in London on our last trip there when I was part of a clairvoyant panel for the Occult Convention. Those were the days when I could name my price and be flown to Europe first class.  Now, no one would even return my calls.  

      Bob appeared next to me.  “About the shower thing - I’m sorry- I’ve always had a problems with boundaries -“ then noticing the book I was reading - “Awesome novel - I’ve seen the movie they adapted from this book - it was re-titled A Sale of Two Titties. You don’t think of British women as having really big melons but there they were,”  he said casually trying to make conversation.  I just looked at him and sighed. “Hey wouldn’t A Christmas Carol be more appropriate if you’re into Charles Dickens since it’s Christmas Eve?” he asked.
      “I’m really sick of ghosts.  Besides Dickens didn’t know what the hell he was talking about ghost wise,” I replied hoping Bob would get the hint and leave.   

     Just then, the bed began to shake.  The window to my bedroom opened suddenly and let a chill in.  I was used to ghosts getting into my house but they were usually not that dramatic - generally they waited until I was awake at 3:00 am to make their presence known.  
    “What the fu-” Bob shouted looking confused and a little scared.  The books on my shelves started to fly off and swirl like they were caught in some type of vortex. 
     “Whoever you are, stop this at once!” I commanded trying to cover the fact that even I was getting a little freaked.  The swirl of books fell to the ground and there stood a man in Victorian clothing - a long black velvet waist coat, a vest, hair that was thinning on the top but a stock of wavy gray and black hair that curled on the sides of his head.  He had a long beard that was salt and pepper gray and not particularly well groomed.  His steely brown eyes looked at me harshly.  

    “How dare you cast aspersions on my story - you who claims to see the dead?” he bellowed. 
    “Okay, this dream has officially gotten weird which for me is saying a lot,” said Bob as he ducked under the covers. 
     “Well, you’re a ghost and I can see you and Bob- so I’d say I’m pretty solid in the medium department,” I shot back sarcastically.  I was pissed that he would cast aspersions on my abilities. 
      “Well, yes, you are right, you can see me but only because I will it,” Dickens declared arrogantly.
      “Look, I don’t get to talk to famous ghosts very often but you’ve caught me on a really bad night - I have quit being a medium. In fact it’s my Christmas present to me so if you both would get the hell out -“ I said as my anger and frustration started to raise. 
      “Nope, don’t believe in hell either,” said Bob under the covers. 
     “Wait, you have stopped being a medium?” said the ghost of Dickens quizzically. 
     “What do you care - from what I understand, you thought the mediums of the Victorian Era were frauds anyway.  Not a whole lot has changed now. It seems to be my curse. I don’t want to see ghosts but I see them and they always want me to do things for them and never offer to help me. The debunkers think I’m a hack and try to destroy me, the trolls online take constant shots so yeah, I'm out once and for all!” I said thinking this definitive declaration would get them both to leave. 
      "But you are legitimate - you can help mankind-“ Dickens retorted. 
      “F**K Mankind!!,” I exploded because I had enough.  

      I walked out of my room and back to my bar to get another drink.  I could feel the hot salt of tears welling up in my eyes.  Christmas had rarely worked out well for me and tonight was no exception. Maybe if I got drunk enough, I would sleep right through it. I sucked back another glass of wine and closed my eyes on the daybed hoping I was too drunk to see anymore ghosts. 

The buzz of the my iPhone woke my up at 2:00 a.m.  I saw an older woman - maybe

65 standing nearby waiting for me to wake up.  She had the typical white pallor and dark eyes of a ghost with a short cut reminiscent of the 1980’s.  I uttered a “Holy shit, really?!” because I really didn’t want to see more ghosts tonight or frankly ever. 
     “Watch your language please Sophia, I’m actually here to help you,” she said with all the authority of a grandmother.  
     “A ghost who actually wants to help me?  Will wonders never cease?” I said sarcastically. I started to get up and nearly walked into another older women ghost also in her 60’s who looked like she had just walked out of a garden club meeting. 
     “Yes, we definitely want to help!”  I saw Bob and Dickens sitting in the other room looking at my computer. 
     “Dammit Bob, did you call in reinforcements?”  Bob looked up from the laptop. 

“Actually, I don’t know who these women are, but judging from the hair, I’m pretty sure they’re lesbians.”  Charles Dickens laughed as the female ghosts looked disgusted.  I looked at the other older woman who tried to make me feel better. She introduced herself as MeMa and the other woman as Nana. It was interesting because neither woman was related to me. 
    “We know you’re having a bad time, but we want to you see how important your gift is,” she said. 
    “Gift - you think what I have is a gift?  This gift has cost me everything and everyone I’ve ever loved,” I said with tears streaming down my face - I just could not hold it back any more. 
    “There, there,” said Nana.  “Maybe it would help if you could get a glimpse of your past.” 
      “Ah, yes, the ghosts of past - that sounds like a good idea - you good ladies go and we’ll stay here and look into this wonderful future machine,” Dickens chimed in quickly hoping to get rid of us.  

     Out of curiosity I walked over to see what they were looking at and saw that Bob had pulled up 
ASaleofTwoTitties.com. 
     "You’re using my laptop to go on a porn site?” I reproached. 
     “I thought Chuck might want to see how the modern world is interpreting his work,” Bob reasoned.  “Besides, the actor Charles Dick-in does some nice work in this one.” 
     “C’mon dear, let’s leave these two pervs and explore your past,” said Nana. 
     “Capital idea!” replied Dickens happily. “Off you go!” 

     “Just hold our hands and close your eyes and we’re on our way,” instructed MeMa.

     I had never tried to hold the hand of a ghost.  I’d been touched by them plenty of times - but never tried to actually hold on. I took their hands which were cold but the center was very warm. The room started to spin. I was being pulled through a vortex of light - bright gold, orange, red and blue whizzing by me. I felt like I was out of my body but still very aware of it at the same time. We landed in the living room of the house where I had grown up, the one my mother still owns and lives in.  It was Christmas morning when I was five years old.  My father was there - looking as young and handsome as ever. My mother was smiling and lavishing affection on me - something I scarcely remembered.  

    “Sugar Bear, open this next one - I think that Santa might I have heard your Christmas wish.”  He handed me a large box covered with red and green wrapping paper and a top that you just lifted off.  I took off the top of the box and a little pair of snow white ears slowly raised up out of the box.  Then a pink nose followed by a soft meow.  A white kitten popped out of the box and started to run around the living room in circles then quickly climbed up the Christmas tree.  My five year old self squealed with delight. 
     "How sweet is that?” commented Nana.  Daddy got the kitten out of the tree and handed her to me. 
     “What are you going to name her,” asked Mother. 
     “How about Sassy?” I said as I kissed her head,"because she’s a sassy girl like me.  I will love you forever!” A group “Ahh” came from mother, father, Nana and MeMa.  
     “You see, this is a happy Christmas!” said Nana. 
      “Okay, can we fast forward to Christmas a year later?” I asked.
      “Uh, sure,” said MeMa not knowing what she was walking into. 

     The scene changed to me at six sitting quietly on the couch, my mother drinking wine and Etta my nanny trying to make conversation.  She didn’t usually work on holidays but sensed that we might need her since her sons were spending Christmas with their father. Daddy had divorced Mother a few months earlier and we were waiting for him to arrive. 
     “Where’s Sassy?” MeMa asked and then immediately wished she could take it back. 
    “Sassy died a few months before Christmas.  She got hit by a car when the plumber accidentally let her out.  I prayed to God to let me see her again and he answered my prayers by letting me see her ghost whenever I wanted to.  But then that opened a whole doorway for other ghosts to enter - like ancestors who had to unload a ton of family secrets.  I had embarrassed my mother at the family reunion by spilling the information the ghost of Granddaddy told me. So this Christmas, my Mother was newly divorced and half drunk, my kitten was dead and my Daddy was no longer living with us.  My only saving grace was Etta,” I said sadly.
     “We probably should have researched this a little better,” Nana whispered to MeMa. 
     "I know, right?” she replied.

Etta walked over behind the Christmas tree and handed me a present.
“Here you go

baby girl, something special for my special little sugar lump,” she said sweetly.  I took the package and smiled back.  Etta could always make me feel better and I wished she was my real mother any number of times.  I wanted to her her deep brown skin and dark eyes. She looked a lot like Diane Carroll.  I opened the paper and saw the beautiful face of a Julia doll staring back at me.  I had actually gotten exactly what I wanted - the doll from my favorite TV show which I would watch on VHS. 

     “Thank you Etta, I love her,” I said and for the first time that Christmas I was happy.  

     “Oh Sophia, I’m not sure about that doll -“ Mother started in just as Daddy walked in the house. 

      “Not sure about what?” asked Daddy.  

      “DADDY!!” I said as I ran over and got a hug. 

      “Merry Christmas my little Sugar Bear - what do you have there?” he asked while holding me in his strong arms. 

      “It’s a Julia doll - Etta gave it to me,” I squealed as I realized that maybe this Christmas would not be that terrible after all.  “She sure is pretty Sugar Bear - thank you Etta,” said Daddy smiling broadly at Etta. 

      “Well you can play with her in the house but don’t take her out of the here,” Mother said tersely. 

      “But the Wilson sisters also asked Santa for Julia dolls and -“  

      “Enough about the Wilsons and Julia dolls,” snapped mother who was on her fourth glass of wine. 

      “Maybe I should check on dinner,” said Etta.   

“It’s a little early in the day to be drinking Laura -especially on Christmas in front of Sophia,” Daddy said  as he put the cork back on the wine bottle. 
“Well then, if you are so worried about us - why don’t you move back in and solve everything for everyone?  Or are you too busy seeing that whore?” yelled mother.

I started to back out of the living room and ran into the kitchen right into Etta’s arms.  I did that a lot lately when Mother and Daddy started to fight. 
“For God’s sake Laura, it’s Christmas - get it together for Sophia’s sake,” Daddy shouted back.  

     I held onto Etta and my Julia doll just hoping my parents would go away and I could spend the rest of the day with the one person who really loved me. They continued to have a full fledged shouting match until my father stomped into the kitchen. 

    “Etta, get Sophia in a dress and put on your coat, we’re going to the club for Christmas dinner. Put out a plate for Miss Laura - she will not be joining us.” 
     “But Mr. Cal - I’m not sure they will allow me - “ Etta started. 
      “I was just voted in as the Chairman of the club and I can invite whoever I want and today I want you to join us.  You deserve a nice meal and a bonus.  You’re more family to Sophia than her own mother,” Daddy remarked just as mother walked into the kitchen.
    "You are not taking my daughter to the club without me - what will people think?” 
    “Probably that you’re too drunk to take part in Christmas - now get out of my way.  Sophia is spending the night with me at my place,” Daddy said. 
    “Etta, I have Sophia’s overnight bag in the car - there’s a dress in there you can put her in.”  My six year old self started to cry as my adult self stepped back horror. One again I was being used as a pawn in my parent’s divorce. 

     I stumbled into Nana and MeMa and immediately felt like I was traveling through that vortex again.  This time it was me in my late 20’s, a married woman having my first Christmas Eve with my husband Jess.  Our humble apartment seemed so quaint now. I realized how much I missed those days - just me and him.  No real fame to speak of.  Our little Christmas tree was in the corner and dinner was cooking in the oven. We were expecting company any minute but Jess still tried to heat things up in our little kitchen. 
    “Damn girl, you can cook!” he said pulling my blond hair aside and kissing me on my neck.  I put down my cooking mitts and looked into his brown eyes as I wrapped my arms around his waist.  He was the sexiest man I had ever met and I adored my husband with all my heart - with him I felt completely safe.   
     “We had better stop or your father is going to get an eyeful and would have every reason to kick my ass.” 
      “My dad really likes you and so does Etta,” I replied. 
      “But you’re mother is another story - I don’t know if she’ll ever get over the fact you married a black man.” 
     “Well, when she gets here and sees how happy we are, she’ll change her mind, I just know it,” I said with all the optimism of a native young woman. 

     The doorbell rang and I ran to open it.  There stood Daddy, my strawberry blond step mother Cynthia and my two teenage light blond half sisters Abby and Patricia.       
      “Hello Sugar Bear,” said Daddy.  My father got a tender embrace while Cynthia and the girls got an obligatory air kiss.  I’d never grown very close to them but we were civil at least which was more than I could say about my relationship with my real mother. The doorbell rang again and there was Etta, looking just as beautiful as ever - she never seemed to age.  I reserved my biggest hug for her.  Jess stepped forward and shook my father’s hand and gave out hugs to everyone including my sisters who I think got a secret thrill from it. 
     “Where’s mother?” I asked knowing the answer. 
     “Miss Laura was not feeling well today so she decided to stay home - you can go and visit her tomorrow - I think she’d like that,” said Etta trying to cushion the blow.  I took a deep breath and just let it wash over me.  My mother would never approve of me or my marriage but at least the people who wanted to be here were in my living room and that’s what mattered.  Even Cynthia was making an effort so she got points for that.  

      I put out the onion dip and chips as Daddy and Jess settled into the living room to watch the Hula Bowl - East vs. West.  Abby and Patricia went to sit with the men.  Abby because she had Daddy wrapped around her  little finger and Patricia because she had a thing for Jess. It was actually kind of cute - she followed him around like a puppy.  That left Etta, Cynthia and me in the kitchen of our little apartment as I tried to finish dinner. 
      “So how is married life?” asked Cynthia trying to make conversation.
     “It’s great - best decision I ever made,” I said confidently.  
     “Sophia, do you want me to take out the turkey?” asked Etta who never seemed to take a day off. 
     “No Ma’am I am cooking for you tonight, so sit down and have a glass of wine and relax,” I playfully demanded.  Etta laughed and complied as did Cynthia. 
     “You see - this looks like a good Christmas,” said MeMa hopefully.  

     Just then the phone rang and my younger self answered it. It was the Montel Williams Show.  Sylvia Browne had cancelled at the last minute and they needed a new medium to help with predictions for 1991.  I explained that I spoke to people who had passed and did not predict the future.  The producer liked that idea better and suggested coming to a taping on December 26th.  I would need to take the red eye on Christmas night if I was going to make the taping at 2:00 p.m. in Los Angeles. I asked the producer if I could call her back.  Cynthia and Etta had overheard the conversation and looked a little uncomfortable.  My head was spinning - this could be my big break but why did it need to come on Christmas night?  

     “Hey Jess,” I said sweetly.  
     "Yeah babe,” he answered back.  
     “I need to get something in the bedroom for dinner - could you help me?” Jess looked at me quizzically as we walked into our room.  
     “Sophia, I know you like getting you’re freak on, but we can’t do it with your family out there -“ he started. 
     “No Jess, it’s not that.  I just got a call from The Montel Williams show and they want me to appear on December 26th.” 
     “That’s great Babe - this could be your big break!” he said genuinely happy for me. 
      “Here’s the problem -I’d have to take the 11:00 p.m. flight out of Atlanta - and we were going to do Christmas tomorrow night with your family and I don’t want to cut it short.  I’m not sure what to do.  I mean our first Christmas - I want it to be special and to have time to enjoy it with your family,” I said filled with uncertainty.
      “Look, they are only an hour from here - you can pack after company leaves tonight and we’ll go earlier for brunch - trust me - mealtime is every hour on hour on Christmas at my mother’s house.  We’ll stay there all day and leave around 8:00 p.m. since the airport is about 45 minutes from there. We can do this,” he assured. I looked at him - loving the fact that he supported me. 
      “Just another of the thousands or reasons of why I love you!” I said. 
     “Besides, I can give you a big send-off and we’ll have New Years together.  This is the start of great things for you babe,” and with that he gave me an incredibly passionate kiss.  

     “Okay, so this Christmas was a winner,” said Nana feeling vindicated. 
     “Let’s go to the last Christmas Eve Jess and I spent together,” I replied sadly. We fast forwarded to the house I live in now.  Unlike the little apartment which was brimming with tacky holiday decorations, stuffed Santas and stockings hanging from the fire place, the house did not have any Christmas decorations - not even a Christmas tree. It was cold and dark. Jess had a bag and was leaving. 

     “Jess, I’m sorry, it’s just that Good Morning America is doing a special about ghosts and they want me to be part of it with John Edward. I hate that they always ask on the holidays -“ I said pleadingly.
     “No, Sophia, it’s just that you don’t think enough of us to decline the offer - you never tell them no.  Our relationship is just an afterthought - a place you can come back to when all the stresses of being on the road get to you.  I’m tired of playing second fiddle to your career.  Family is important to me-“
      “It’s important to me too-“ I replied. 
       “I’d never know it - you’ve changed since that first Christmas 12 years ago - even then you had to leave to do Montel.” He finished not in anger but in a sad resignation that I would never change. He kissed me on the top of the head and closed the door leaving me alone on Christmas Eve. 

     Standing there seeing it replayed with the grandmothers I wanted to scream “No, give me another chance - please, I love you, I need you - I was an asshole but I can change, please, don’t go.”  It reminded me of the day Daddy left Mother right after our family reunion.  There I was feeling like that same abandoned little girl except this time my pain was self-inflicted.  I started to cry.  The grandmothers tried to embrace me but I pushed them away just like everyone else in my life. ”I just want to go now please.” 

      We flew back through the vortex and found Bob and Charles Dickens smoking cigars and still looking at the laptop. 
      “Hello Lesbians and Sophia, how did it go?” asked Bob.  
      “We are not lesbians,” said Nana tersely. 
      “Well I experimented in grad school, doesn’t that count?” replied MeMa. 
      “It was the 1960’s dear, we all did,” Nana rejoined.  Dickens’ cigar dropped out of his mouth.
      “Please tell me we are in the 1960’s!” he asked Bob excitedly.  Bob just shook his head sadly. 

     “Can you all please go - I need to be alone,” I said as I got out some Bath and Body Works deodorizer to kill the smell of the ghostly cigars. 
     “I’m sorry the past was not to your liking but perhaps the present will help put things into perspective,” said Dickens hopefully. 
     “In fact I know just the ghost who can help you.” he said looking at Bob.  Bob looked over his shoulder and back at Dickens and the grandmothers quizzically and then realized what they expected him to do.
    “Oh, okay, I’m supposed to be a Christmas Carol Ghost,” Bob said sarcastically in air quotes. “Well, this dream has taken yet another weird turn.” 
     “Please Bob, you’re the one who is best suited for the present seeing how you just died, you’re more current then we are,” replied Nana.
     “Okay, this is still just a dream so I’ll try to satisfy your demand ladies but keep in mind I expect some serious payback,” he said as he winked at Nana. “Now, what am I supposed to do?” Bob asked. 
     “Just take Sophia’s hand and off you go,” said Dickens as he tried to get rid of Bob quickly.  The room started spinning again and the vortex started to pull us through.        “Hey, this is just like a DNA helix,” Bob said just before we disappeared. 
     “So ladies, can I interest you in one of these amazing web places that Bob has shown me.  How about The Old Bi-Curiousity Shop?” Dickens asked hopefully.  

     Bob and I landed in a light blue room full of posters of The Long Island Medium, Ghost Adventures and The Dead Files. It was not a room I recognized but the young girl seemed familiar.  She was on her computer looking at the YouTube video that had pretty much led to my downfall - the one where I was drunk at Clairvoyant Con and beat the crap out of a redneck.  It was right up to the part where a teenage girl asked about being a medium. 

    “Hi, I’m a sensitive and would like to be a medium and want to know what it’s like,” she asked with a look of idol worship on her face.  I stood there with Bob wanting to click off the computer because I knew what came next. 

    “You want to me a medium?” my YouTube self asked half mocking. 
    “Yes, I think I would be good at it and it looks like fun,” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.  I then launched into a half drunken tirade on why she should not do it- the ghosts are assholes, they never leave you alone, I had to get drunk to stop seeing them and let her know that I was half drunk while I was talking to her.  Click here to see the video. Bob looked over at me and seemed disappointed. 
“Wow, some people think I’m a douche - but you - you crushed that poor little girl’s spirit,” he admonished. I looked at her face in her room and on the computer screen and he was right - the poor thing was crestfallen.  She was in her room alone on Christmas Eve.  A comment popped up on YouTube which read:  “The girl is just as stupid as the medium - what losers!”

    “Nickie, c’mon to church you’ll feel better,” said a voice from outside the room. 
    “I don’t feel like it, Mom,” she replied sadly. 
    “That video has been up for three years, replaying it is not going to change anything - now come on, your sisters and grandparents are waiting.” Nickie got her crutches - it was then I noticed that she had a cast on her leg.  Before she left the room, she looked directly our way, smiled then nodded and walked out.  

   “You have got to do something to help her,” said Bob suddenly sounding like a spirit guide.

    “I don’t know what to do - I feel like shit seeing this.  I never meant to hurt her - I was just sad and drunk - Jess had just left me. I snapped and was rude to her - beat up that redneck - then some asshole uploaded this and I was ruined-“ I realized that all the things I was saying were just lousy excuses for hurting an innocent person. I had basically done to her what so many people in my life had done - easily dismissed me for being able to see ghosts.  

     Bob touched my shoulder to help me feel better but it instantly it took us to another Christmas scene in the present. It was Jess in his townhouse which was decked out with a Christmas tree and a fire place with stockings on the mantel.  He had a couple of glasses of egg nog and handed one to a woman whose face I could not see.  It didn’t matter, the idea of Jess with someone else really stung. 

     “Here you go babe,” he said with the same affectionate tone he that was once reserved for me.

     “Do you ever hear from Sophia?” he asked the woman on the couch.  That question shook me up, why would this woman be in touch with me? 

     “No not really.  It’s not like we were ever that close, but once your divorce was final, she closed herself off from everyone including Daddy.”  Just then I recognized the voice - it was Patricia.  

    “Whoa, do you mean to tell me that your ex-husband is dating your half-sister - that is screwed up in a very Southern way,” said Bob incredulously.
     “Thank you for pointing that out Bob - I would have had no idea,” I said sarcastically.
     “You’re welcome - I’m here to help,” then sensing my sarcasm, “Oh, okay - sorry but that is some hard core betrayal. I can see why you drink so much,” he said in an another attempt to comfort me. 
      “At what point am I supposed to feel better about my life and my choices?” I asked.
     “I don’t have a clue, the grandmothers just sent me here to -“ then realizing Dickens’ ploy, “Now, I get it - Dickens wanted a three-way with the lesbians. Well isn’t that cheeky? I have to hand it to that dirty old limey, that was well played.”  This time the vortex started up and we ended up at my mother’s house. 

    My mother was sitting all alone, with a small Christmas tree and a few candles burning.  Etta was trying to get her to eat some breakfast but she wasn’t having any of it.  She still looked somewhat attractive, but the booze was taking it’s toll. Etta no longer worked for her but was now married to my father and a para-legal at his firm. My mother was actually okay with the two of them being married, far more than she was with Cynthia. In her eyes, Cynthia had been a direct rejection but Etta was so different from her that it didn't even sting that much and they remained friends. She would still visit mother to see how she was doing.  Mother’s bright blue eyes which looked at me so affectionately during that Christmas when I was five had dimmed. She had dark circles around her eyes which were bloodshot.  She looked like she had been crying.  I’d never seen my mother quite this vulnerable before. 

    “For God’s sake Etta, I don’t want anything to eat.  It was nice of you to come over but don’t you want to be with Cal and your family?” mother asked. The word family out of Mother’s mouth struck me - I’d never known what that really was.  Etta was the only constant in my life for years and years. She was the one person who genuinely seemed to care for me and how did I repay her?  By barely calling - too self absorbed in my own misery to pick up the phone and say I missed her.  Mother poured another glass of Merlot. 
     “Wow, it’s 8:00 in the morning and your mother sucks it down as fast as you do,” said Bob with his usual tact. That revelation hit me like a bitch slap to the face. Her drinking was out of control - my drinking was out of control. Holy shit, I was turning into my own mother. We were both drunk, bitter and lonely on Christmas. 

     I closed my eyes and suddenly I was back at my house with the Grandmothers and Charles Dickens having some brandy out of some Christmas snifters that I never used.  “Oh, good you’re back - so good to see you ducky!” said a gregarious Dickens. 
      “I had no idea that ghosts could down 20 year old brandy,” I said as I took the glass from his hand, “Please tell me this night is almost over,” I begged.
     “Yeah, it hasn’t gone so well. Sophia got to see her ex-husband getting it on with her younger half-sister. AWKWARD! Then there was the young girl whose spirit she crushed, and then there was her Mom who drinks like a fish,” explained Bob who was getting on my last nerve.       “That’s it, everyone out of here now,” I yelled and this time they were going to listen.

      “I know this night has been difficult,” said Dickens softening his tone. “But you need to see what the future holds for you - “
      “Let me guess - for my own good so I can put it all in perspective.  Well from my perspective - this has been a cluster f**k and I feel worse now than when the evening started - so if you could all just go-“ I said sternly. 
     “No, just give me one more chance,” said Dickens.
     “Here take my hand,” he offered and once again we were flying through time.  

       We landed at a funeral home where people were viewing my mother’s body in a mahogany casket. I saw Abby with her husband along with Patricia and Jess.  They were not really crying - they just seemed to be there out of a sense of duty.  Then Daddy and Etta walked up - they were genuinely shaken up. Etta put a rose on the top of the casket.  Then another woman whose face I could not see approached. She was inconsolable.  Etta and Daddy tried to comfort her but she pushed them away and threw herself across the casket sobbing. 
     “Good God, that woman needs to get it together,” I commented to Dickens. He didn’t say anything, he just pointed back to the scene.  I got a little closer and realized that the hysterical woman was my mother. Shock ran over me - if this was my mother - then who was the person she was mourning for?  I took a good look at the corpse in the casket and realized it was me just a few years from now.  I backed away in shock. 
     “But how - did I?” I asked in a daze.
     “You overdosed and Etta found you, no one could get in touch with you and she went over to your house,” Dickens said sadly, “You went from booze to pills.  You were just a footnote in the tabloids.”  I then saw a white mass raise from the casket - I was watching my own ghost pull out of my body.  

     The scene shifted to an apartment with Nickie the young girl I had humiliated in the YouTube video.  My ghost was trying to talk to her but she pretended not to hear it.  She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer and guzzled it down. 
    “I don’t want to talk to you and if I drink enough tonight I won’t see you either,” she said with bitterness in her voice.  My ghost-like self kept trying to get her attention by moving objects and knocking things over in anger.  I could feel my angst raising and felt another celestial bitch slap coming on - the realization that I had now turned Nickie into me.  She was headed down the same sad path and I could do nothing to save her. 
      “Hey, it doesn’t have to be this way! Please don’t give up - please don’t give up - PLEASE!!!” I turned to Dickens, “She doesn’t have to be this way, she can help them - me - the ghosts right? She’s not going to turn her back on them?” 
     “Well she tried once a few years ago to be a medium and then someone told her not to be who she was and she’s never been the same since,” said Dickens sadly.  

     Just then I saw a mass of shadow figures emerged from the darkness and start to attack my ghost. I looked to Nickie to help - to say something to get them to leave but she just sighed and finished her beer.  I could hear the ghostly image of myself start to moan and scream - then all the light vanished from the room including Dickens.  I could feel a bone chilling coldness on my body and my breath leaving my body. The shadow figures felt like they were pulling me apart and sucking the life out of me. I tried to get away but couldn’t.
     “No, not now, I can’t die now, please, please, PLEASE!!” I screamed.

I opened my eyes and tried to catch my breath. I was back in my house covered with

sweat and shivering.  The grandmothers brought me some blankets and tea.         “There, there dear, it’s okay,” they said soothingly.  I didn’t say anything for a long time. I was still processing what I had seen.  Finally after a few sips of tea I said, “I have to make a change - I can’t go on like this.”  I looked around and saw Bob on my laptop in the kitchen. 
    “Don’t worry dear, he’s not looking at anymore porn sites,” said MeMa.
    “If you are really ready to make a change, we might be able to help,” said Nana hopefully.
    “How can you two help?” I asked taking another sip of tea.       “Well we know that you have at best three to six months of money left before you are completely broke-”
    “How the hell do you know that?” I asked.
    “You left your on-line banking window open,” shouted Bob from the kitchen.  "Your user name and password list was on a post-it next to the keyboard.
     “Our grandsons are ghost hunters and they are auditioning for this show on the Supernatural Channel in the next few months-“ 
     “Wait, so this was all a ploy to get me to do a show with a pair of stupid ghost hunters?”
     “No dear, it was not a ploy and they are not stupid,” explained MeMa, ”what you saw was genuine - your past was awful but the future is still an open book - nothing is set in stone yet.  You can change it.”  I sat there pondering what they were saying.  I realized that as much as I didn’t like the idea of working with ghost hunters it was still better then drinking myself into an oblivion. 
     “The American public loves a comeback and our grandsons could sure use the help, what have you got to lose?” asked Nana.  

   “I hate to admit it, but the lesbians are right,” said Bob from the other room handing out another left-handed compliment. 
  “Okay, you’re right, I don’t have anything to lose. I’ll do it.”  I took another sip of tea and realized that the sun was rising. “Wait, what day is it?” I asked in a near panic. 
     “It’s Christmas Day, dear,” said MeMa. 
     “Oh, thank God, I haven’t missed it.  But how do I even begin to make it up to…“ I said as I thought of my parents, Etta, and Nickie.
     “Redemption is just a phone call away,” said Nana as she pointed to my iPhone.  

     I picked up my cell and put it down a six times before I got the courage up to call my father who was usually up early no matter what day it was.
     “Hey Daddy, it’s Sophia.  I was wondering if I could stop over today and wish you and Etta a Merry Christmas,” I said as tears started to roll down my face.
    “Sugar Bear!” he said as his voice cracked.  We talked for over an hour about Etta, her sons, his firm and Abby.  He was very careful not to mention Patricia because he understood the mind field that went from one sister to another and the man they both loved. I told him about the possibility of working on a new show. We decided to meet for dinner since he had breakfast planned with Cynthia and her girls and lunch with Etta and her sons. Even though I was in a forgiving mood, it was going to take me time to work up to seeing Patricia and Jess together.  

      He handed the phone to Etta and we picked up from the last time we’d seen each other. She kept on saying that she had prayed for this day and God had heard her prayers and it was her best Christmas present ever. Then she asked me if I had called Mother. I hesitated - I wanted to but what would I say?
     “Baby girl, you just need to say Merry Christmas and let God take care of the rest.”  

      I sat there for a few minutes wondering what I would really say. I pressed Mother’s home number on my phone and wondered if it would be easier to just leave a message - maybe she wouldn’t recognize the number and pick up.  It rang four times and I got ready to leave a message when I heard her voice say “Sophia?” 
      “Hello mother, Merry Christmas,” I said trying to keep my voice from shaking.  There was silence and I wondered if this was a huge mistake.
     “Mom, are you there?” I asked wondering if she had hung up on me like the last time we talked.
     “No, I’m still here - Merry Christmas.”  This was by far was the most awkward conversation of the day, but I was not going to give up.
     “Hey, if you want I can come over and make french toast like the kind we used to get a Le Pierre remember?”       “Well, Etta is coming over to check on me since Cal is having breakfast with his girls. Maybe the three of us could have breakfast together,” she said quietly.  
     “I’d like that Mom, see you in an hour.”  I put down the phone and my soul felt instantly lighter.  The grandmothers looked pleased.  

     “There you see dear, this is really what we wanted you to do - reconnect with those that

you love,” said Nana sweetly. 
    “Why don’t you make some coffee and get ready to see your Mother,” said MeMa.  As I walked out of the living room, Bob walked over to the grandmothers and put his arms around their shoulders.
     “Hey how about you ladies tell my all about those crazy days experimenting in grad school,” he said hoping to score some holiday action.
    “Nope, not gonna happen,” Nana laughed. 
     “In your dreams Atheist Boy,” retorted MeMa laughing.  The grandmothers faded out leaving Bob alone.
    “Wow, rejected by two women at once, this does feel like college.”

    Just as my coffee was brewing I noticed that Bob had opened my in-box and there was an e-mail saying “Thank you Miss Sophia!!!” from someone I didn’t know but it didn’t seem to be spam.  I opened it and saw Nickie’s smiling face on a webcam. 

“Hello Miss Sophia.  Thank you so much for the $1,000 Amazon gift card for me and

my family. It was not going to be much of a Christmas since my mom got laid off from her job but we’ve had fun today picking out things for the family to enjoy.  Thank you again and December 27th at 5:00 p.m. sounds like a great time to Skype and tell you about me wanting to be a medium. See you then!” The recording stopped but Nickie’s sweet face had a huge smile on it.  I turned to Bob who was trying not to smile. 

   “You sent Nickie a $1,000 gift card from my Amazon account? Are you crazy? How did you get her information to send it?” I asked both pissed that he had spent that much money on a gift card but glad that she was so happy.

   “While you were going on about that whole YouTube video in her room, I looked at her e-mail address on her laptop and got her social media info. You also left your Amazon window open. You’ll be working again soon and we had to make it right for that sweet young girl - it’s Christmas for crying out loud.”  

It’s not often that a spirit surprises me but Bob was not a ghost that I could put in any one category. 
    “For someone who doesn’t believe in Christmas, you have certainly been Santa’s little helper,”  I observed.
    “Look, I maybe an atheist but I do believe in certain aspects of Christmas - the whole peace on earth, goodwill towards man idealism is actually pretty awesome.  It’s just the judgmental Christians that gripe my ass. If they were actually like Jesus: patient, forgiving and kind, then the world would be a better place,” he replied. 

    “Well Bob, you might have just saved the holiday for Nickie’s family,” I said as I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee. 
     “Thanks, but don’t expect me to say ‘God bless us Everyone!’ do you?”
      “I don’t,” I laughed.  

   Dickens, Nana and MeMa were hovering above the kitchen looking down on the little scene. 
     “How did I do ladies?” asked Dickens.
     “Mission accomplished,” said Nana smiling. 
     “So ladies, about those sexy college days?” Dickens asked as he and the giggling grandmothers faded out. 

    “It looks like a pretty Christmas day. I hope I wake up soon,” said Bob still not grasping that he was a ghost. 
    “I know,” I said trying not to upset him,
     “But until you do, Merry Christmas, Bob.” 
     “Merry Christmas, Sophia,” he replied warmly. And for the first time in a very long time - it was. 


For more on Sophia Gardeen and the rest of the Ghost Wanderers cast go to www.ghostwanderers.com