The Ordinary Haunting

17. The Wrong Response

"No, it's because she never became a songwriter."

"What's the relevance of that?"

"Well what's the relevance of this?"

"She died before she could realise she was in love with him."

"So why would that keep her tethered here? She hadn't realised it yet. She couldn't regret something she didn't--"

"You think ghosts get tethered here by choice? We don't turn up with a list in our hands of all the stuff that was bugging us and get $50,000 and a BMW to travel the world and sort everything out so that we can qualify for the afterlife."

"Get to the point, Tawan."

"The kind of regrets that get you tethered are exactly the ones you don't understand!"

"Since when have you known that?"

"Since you told me I couldn't not have regrets. According to you that's bullshit. I know you've got a journalist's subtlety -- that's not your fault -- but try unpacking this just a bit further than 'Oh, it's obviously because she never wrote a song'. Why could she never write a song? Because she had closed herself off to the idea that--"

Mild let her pen clatter to the glass table and pushed her chair back to take a large swig of organic lemonade. "When was the last time either of you guys got laid?"

Both New and I collapsed coughing over our notes. A waiter passing by glanced at the plate between us with concern. I pushed my glasses back up my nose and tried to ignore the little girl practically kicking at her mother's head beside me in her attempt to grab for the "flying sprectangles".

"You're not going to include ghost sex are you?" I was this close to drinking the complimentary water in front of me just for an excuse to go to the bathroom. "That wouldn't be appropriate for your current audience demographic. And you never mentioned wanting to angle this book to a more mature--"

"Please refrain from asking personal questions." New tapped the end of his pen on the back of his knuckles, his face set like stone.

Mild pursed her lips at him and put her glass back on the table. It cracked so sharply upon it that I busied myself checking whether we would actually have to compensate the cafe for damage.

"Tay agreed to this, but whatever, if you're looking for professional relevance, this is me telling you that you've been snarkier than usual today, and I can't work with a snarky editor. Editors."

I ignored the shift of her head and shook some condensation from her glass off my papers.

"Apologies, that's your bit."

I sucked in some air between my teeth and winced at my hands. That kind of remark wasn't like New. Not with clients.

This is my fault.

"Oho, if only you knew, New Thitipoom, if only you knew." Mild drained her glass and dropped her head back. The three of us sat in silence as she pulled an elastic from her pocket and tied her hair into a ponytail at the top of her head. When she was done, I watched the pulse in her neck guiltily.

"Sorry, Mild," I muttered. I reached across New to pick up the menu and saw a muscle twinge in his jaw. He may as well have punted me across the room. My nerves burned in my fingers. "Do you want some--"

"Tay, just tell me what's with you guys today, please? Besides the obv--"

"Nothi--"

"I said 'Tay'."