"If you knew that your life was merely a phase of your entire existence, how would you live? You'd live a gigantic, bold, fun, dazzling life. You know you would. That's what the ghosts want us to do – all the exciting things they no longer can."
— Chuck Palahniuk
This was weird. Even Olive would testify to how freaking weird this night was.
Shane made true on his promise just like he said he would, three steaming bowls of ramen sat around the creaking wooden dining table with cutlery and water glasses surrounding each one. The two men sat silently, frozen in their seats gawking at the sight. For the first time in forever, Olive felt awkward under their gaze, which was completely ridiculous considering neither of them could actually see her. Still she shuffled in her seat and averted her gaze back again to the table.
'Great meal you guys..' she sighed, knowing full well neither of them could hear her. It was like she was both present but also not there at all. They stared stunned at her with keen eyes even though what they really saw was an empty chair and the sound of metal chiming as she rested her fork against the chipped china bowl occasionally.
Although from her end, the night seemed to take a twist for the more tense and weird, it was nothing compared to the night her favourite ghostbusting duo were having. Ryans blood ran cold when he saw the empty wooden chair saved for Ollie move sharply backwards and then forwards again unprompted, as if someone had dragged it towards themselves, taken a seat and politely tucked then their chair in under the table again. That move even had Shane on his toes but that was just the small talk compared to the main course.
Every now and again Shane and Ryan would share a sideways glance at one another, just to make sure the other one saw that they we're watching. And yes, they sure were. Now from her perspective the act of picking up her designated fork, collecting a pile of noodles strung loosely to her utensil and then bringing it up to her mouth was normal. She wasn't exactly able to eat but the movement of bringing food to her face as if she were able to take a bite, and then lowering it down again as if it wasn't there anymore and she would be able to retrieve more, it was comforting. Like there was still blood pumping through her veins and food, warm and flavourful on her tongue. To sit at a table with living, breathing people and act the same way as they did was nostalgic. She liked it.
Until she realised all the boys could see was a floating metal fork, lifting a pile of pasta upwards before dunking it back into the bowl, retrieving a new one and dropping it back again. Occasionally the half full glass of water would float up to the same level the fork did, angle downwards and pour splashes of water onto the wooden chair, only to then be placed back down again on a cup holder, out of respect for the glassware of course. She was a ghost, not a truant.
Yeah okay, this was weird.
"You know Ryan," Shane was the first one to breach the silence. It was tense but not out of fear, maybe just genuine awkwardness? "I'm struggling to find an answer to this one." Awe and breathlessness was shared around the room as they waited for the dream to end, for the two of them to wake up at home, safe and comfortable. It never came.
"Any other time I'd love to hear you admit that ghosts are real, but this is just-" Ryan paused to let out a heavy breath he didn't know he'd been holding "this is too weird." he sighed, dropping his fork onto the table with an obnoxiously loud clatter. He suddenly had no appetite.
Shane stared at his friend as he shuffled in his seat uncomfortably, whole body visibly tense and skin pale, missing the natural warm blush that usually painted his cheeks an inviting shade of pink. His lips were peeling from being bitten all night out of anxiety and his hands trembled ever so slightly where they sat perched under the table.
Tentatively Shane stretched out his palm, never breaking eye contact with the empty chair he slowly found his way to Ryan's knee bouncing in a nervous habit he picked up as a child somewhere. His hands were frailty and caution, fingers twitching gently every so often, reaching upward as if towards something.
In an instant Ryan's hand bolted from a clenched fist sitting tight in his lap to perched lightly on top of Shane's own. He knew his hands were clammy and shaking ever so slightly and yet he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not compared to how painfully he need physical contact, an anchor holding him in reality, the warm safety of someone else's skin on his. Olive hadn't felt it in decades, so she chose to ignore the sharp pang of jealousy in her gut and opted to put it to good use and make sure these two got to experience life for everything it's worth while they still could, to experience life together.
"How about this," Shane smiled softly, gazing down at their entwined hands then back up to catch his best friends eyes, full of hope and longing. She took a moment to recognise how only a mere moment ago those same eyes held fear and dread, then Shane speaks three words and all that anxiety and evil is gone? Fascinating. "It isn't dinner without conversation, how about we try the ghost box again?"
"I don't know Shane i just-" his shoulders tensed and his grip on his friends long fingers tightened, if only for a second before relaxing again at the sound of his voice.
"Look, we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with." it was strange how a few choice words from the taller man's mouth could completely change his demeanor. Shane probably had no idea what he was saying, no direct contact between his mouth and his brain forming perfect coherent sentences to ease a logical thinker like Ryan. It was like he merely spewed any half decent thought he could muster in the moment and it worked just fine. Because they were his words from his mind out of his mouth and it was just all so perfectly Shane. So Ryan drank his words in like strong wine and enjoyed getting tipsy. "She clearly doesn't want to hurt us or she would have done it already, right? What harm could it do?"
"I mean- okay I guess," with those words of confirmation Shane's small smile grew ten times the larger into a full blown grin "but I don't I'll be able to get it". Ryan gestured lamely to his lower half with his free hand, Shane wasn't sure if he was he was referring to his tense legs still trembling occasionally and surely not able to support his own weight, or if it were a more direct reference to the state of their linked hands. He found himself secretly hoping for the later, what if they never did this again? Shane sure as hell wasn't going to ruin this before it's even started.. Whatever this is.
Olive rolled her eyes at this, their obliviousness was so extreme she even contemplated it being sham, but she knew better than anyone that there's no reason to deny yourself happiness like that, not while you still can. While it's still there, clutching your hand with white knuckles and a fierce intensity, sharp features that soften with a single glance at your face, a gentle expression of admiration taking over for a moment and leaving just as quickly as it came.
Olive lazily lifted a finger at the small black machine that resembled or father's old radio, urging it towards her. And just like that, with the flick of her wrist, merely moving a muscle, the box was in the air and slowly navigating through the crowded kitchen, gentle movements both in fear of breaking the tech as well as breaking Ryan's entire being. It landed softly as if it'd be placed like a feather by an angel and Ryan couldn't even bring himself to feel afraid.
Afraid of a young girl, who made them dinner and played truth or dare with them through an ouija board, a girl who brought him his property sheerly because he expressed not being too keen on doing it himself, his friends wouldn't even do that! Was she a friend? Well, actually Shane did that for him on occasion. Suddenly painstakingly aware of Shane's pulse beneath his fingertips, his pale skin warm and soft, Ryan had to ask himself, was he a friend? Is that all he wanted him to be?
"Hey check it out Ry! She's like a little maid," Shane laughed waking him from his imagination, a maid? Clearly it was a joke and Olive took no offence to it, hell she lived through the prime of sexism, nothing offended her anymore. Shane didn't refer to her as a friend of course he didn't do that she's a dead woman for crying out loud Ryan!
"Thanks Ollie!" Shane smiled and suddenly the lights on the box started flashing as it roared to life, like it was her way of saying 'you're welcome'. Calling the ghost by a nickname probably wasn't helping with his mental friend or foe debate.
"What'dya say miss Thomas," Shane spoke loudly and clearly into the speaker as if it would in anyway affect what she heard, a fact she found hilarious letting out a small giggle that somehow made it's way back out through the speaker behind the crackling and buzzing of differing channels "You ready for a chat?"
A faint voice that sounded awfully like "Always, Shane" resonated through the box, shocking Olive considering she'd never really used one of these before, sure people came in and out of her home with them but she'd never actively try to engage with those morons. Why bother, if she'd learnt anything is how some men can treat her like garbage, a clip for a show and then a painful visit from an exorcist to repay her for her troubles, no thank you! But maybe this was different, she thought maybe they were different. Maybe they thought she was different?
Ryan sure thought she was something. Watching the way she made easy conversation with his best friend over a radio, as if they'd known each other for years, as if Shane was never a skeptic and openly committed to cases like this all the time, the way they bounced back and forth off of each other made something in his stomach flip. Something inside him said, maybe she is different?
He'd always thought the essence of anything supernatural was scary, but maybe, just maybe, she was scared as well? Like when you see a spider as a child and your mother places a warm hand on your shoulder and reassures you that 'they're just as scared as you are, to them we are the monsters'. He thought about her father and all the monsters she truly had faced, then he thought about the way she treated them like guests despite knowing nothing of their intentions at all. And he thought, maybe, just maybe, if he could overcome a fear of spiders, he could overcome this one too.