Hungry Ghosts

"Don't leave town without me. I may need you to steal me away."

***

Mack kissed Allison a final goodbye as she lay nude on the bed. It was sweet, a deep and gentle kiss with lots of tenderness. A final, playful exchange of "I love you's" were their last words. The farewell was just what Allison needed before she could fall asleep in a happy state of content.

She had been studying him as he got dressed, watching him with a mix of affection and sadness. Something had bothered her, though she couldn't quite put a finger on it. In any event, there was no way she was going to that damned conference today, she was simply too exhausted and couldn't face those work people. No, today was a day better spent sleeping inside.

But, what had bothered her about Mack just now? Something about his clothes, that she had wanted to remember. His shirt. That was it. She had felt guilty about ripping it and wanted to buy him a new one, but when he had put it back on it had appeared perfectly fine.

That was strange.

Her tiredness faded and a sudden chill ran through her. The book on the table caught her eye, but she was almost scared pick it up. Curiosity finally forced her to open it. Mack, or rather Chris MacGuire, had written his name below Karina's note and put a question mark next to it. That was odd.

A persistent idea lingered in her head to do what he had done for Karina, to look him up online. That meant getting her phone though, and all those annoying messages that had kept coming in would be in her face again. Sleep also called and she could always do this search later. It was a dilemma.

Ultimately, she was bothered enough by Mack's story and the oddly repaired shirt that she decided to look him up. Ignoring the unread messages, voicemails, and missed calls, she googled Mack's name, adding NYPD to the search to make sure she got the right MacGuire. Surely there were thousands of Chris MacGuires in the U.S.!

The first headline was "Memorial Service for Slain NYPD Detective to be held this Tuesday" and made Allison's fingers tremble and almost drop the phone. That was today. This couldn't be real. Tears were rolling down her eyes seconds later as she saw his photograph in the article and confirmed it was indeed Mack. He'd died last Friday in that shootout, killing one of the attackers before he was fatally shot while saving his partner.

Panic, fear, and most of all sadness filled Allison all at once and left her shaking. Tears welled up in her eyes and she sank back onto her bed and began to cry. The whole night seemed like a nightmare now, not the perfect dream that had almost made her fall into sleep finally.

Clues rushed through her head now. His shirt was top of mind, but everything he had said about Karina applied to him as well. She almost hadn't seen him at the bar when she'd walked in, he'd been in the dark corner at the far end, with the other guests all huddled together at the opposite side. He was up all night and hated the day, All the crazy things he did with Karina in public; he couldn't have done any of that with her unless people weren't noticing him as well! How had she believed his story? Then there was his hunger for love and real emotion, coupled with his fever for her when they'd torn into each other in the room. He wasn't just a normal, lonely man, he had a hunger for her that was fierce. Lastly, of course, there was his inability to recognize these very clues about himself, despite being a detective.

Or had he known? He'd left her his name in that book.

Allison felt dizzy and wanted to throw up. Had she just slept with a ghost?

How could any of this be real? Her brain was moving in slow motion and the bright sunlight was making it hard to think. Her energy was fading and all these ideas she had of what to do next were vanishing. Why did she think that she should feel more upset about Mack? She was too tired and she couldn't summon the additional tears she felt were needed. Later, maybe.

He couldn't be a ghost anyway, the idea was crazy. She was merely delirious from lack of sleep.

She closed the drapes and collapsed back onto the bed numbly. She'd wanted to check something for her own sanity. What was it? The passenger list on that flight yesterday. Or was that two days ago?

It was crazy to want to look at that list and now she couldn't remember why she cared so much to begin with. Anyway, she could do it when she woke up. What did it matter who died, she was alive. That's the important thing, she was alive. Maybe last night had been a dream.

A yawn appeared and she rolled over onto her side and closed her eyes. There was always tonight to continue this line of thought.

Tonight she'd find the energy again to feel emotions.

Or she could just let it all go.