Spirits in the Material World

Bzzt! "—one of the most overwhelming landslide victories in United States history, President Reagan is to be sworn in to his second term in the White House, with 59% of the vote. Winning 49 of 50 states, excepting only Mondale's home state of Minnesota, th—"

Bzzt! Trish tried yet another station. MTV popped up, kicking off Pat Benatar's "We Belong" video. Trish set down the remote, figuring she couldn't go too wrong here. Of course, in her turmoiled state, just about anything right now brought her mind back to Sonya, how much she missed and yet remained angry with her. Like Pat's earlier hit "Love Is A Battlefield." How true.

Thinking she might as well try to do something literally constructive, she took a sip of cocoa, sat up and started turning up puzzle pieces. She'd assembled a few edges and located the four corners when Fluff abruptly leapt up again.

"Fluff? Girl? What's up?"

She found out a second later. A sudden series of loud, insistent-sounding knocks came at the door, startling both Fluffernutter and Trish. The cat sprinted away down the hall.

"Oh m—" She got up, wrapping the blanket around her birthday-suited figure, and approached the door.

"Wh-who is it?"

"Police, ma'am."

Alarm permeated Trish's face. What the...?

"...O-ok—uh, gi-give me just a moment, please!"

Trish dashed into her bedroom, dropped the blanket, snatched a robe from the closet, donned herself scampering back down the hall, tied it shut, quickly made sure everything was concealed, and returned to the living room.

"Coming! Coming!" Click. She opened the door. Indeed, there stood a policeman. Her heart sped.

"Trish Lowery?"

"Yes?"

"Cohabitant and emergency contact of Sonya Ross?"

Trish's eyes and mouth opened wider.

"Oh my—yes, yes, I am. What happened?"

The cop paused for the first time. He glanced down, and back up into Trish's unsettled face.

"I'm afraid there's been a severe accident."

Trish's blood ran cold.

"Miss Lowery...earlier this evening, Miss Ross was in a CVS parking lot, on foot...when she was struck by an intoxicated driver."

Trish's heart stopped beating and cracked open.

"What?"

"I'm very sorry, Miss Lowery, but...

"She was killed, almost instantly on impact."

Trish abruptly felt as if about to die herself. She felt her legs give way under her. A storm raged her eyes.

"NO!!"

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. She was rushed to Mayo Clinic following the incident, but it was already..."

The officer went on, but Trish's cognitive processes didn't. Her mind fainted into shock. The policeman went blurry and fuzzy before her quivering eyes, his voice a distorted echo. The trembling Trish went into a mental tailspin. She couldn't discern how much longer the officer spoke to her, what else he told her, or when he at last let her be. She didn't hear the TV anymore, or notice Fluffernutter approach and paw at her, as she sank into the floor. She merely remained in paralyzed shock.

Sonya was dead.

Sonya was dead. Her girlfriend had been hit by a car and killed. She couldn't swallow it. It was too much to bear. The worst of all was that she had to wait out and endure the prelude of shock before it all actually sank in. She couldn't hear, speak or think. Her dear, beloved girlfriend...her sweetheart, her darling, her romance, her heart, the love of her life...

...Was gone.

Eventually, the shock indeed began to metamorphose, into the be-all and end-all of heartbreak. The first tear seeped out, and was absorbed by the plushy robe. Continuous tears followed. Her feline companion nudged with her head, but Trish couldn't feel it. She sat, still but shivering on the carpet, legs folded to the side. Minute after solemn minute passed, as Trish's quiet weeping grew, and grew, and grew, to tortured wracking sobs. It was simply unfathomable. Her brain wouldn't compute it. She could not bring herself to grips with the realization that... that...

...That she would never see Sonya Ami Ross again.

She'd never talk to her again, Trish thought as she bawled her heart out. She'd never spend time with her again. She'd never more hold her hand on dates, or relax at home with her. They'd never share another meal or movie. They'd never laugh or cry together. They'd never hug or kiss. They would never snuggle, make love or fall asleep with each other...ever again.

The tears wouldn't stop. Each represented another strand of their relationship, another reminder of Sonya, another memory. All the wonderful things they'd done together, and all the wonderful things they'd now never do together. Each tear she lost corresponded to a small chunk of her heart chipping and breaking away.

She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Trish found herself wishing beyond hope the officer'd return to her door, with Sonya, and announce that he was just kidding. Even if playing a horrible joke on her, she wouldn't care. She'd just be so happy to have Sonya back. She wouldn't have even cared about...

Oh god... she thought, as an entirely new wave of tears spilled forth.

The fight. Their fight had occurred just before Sonya had left. It was this inane, stupid fight that triggered her fit and compelled her to storm off. Trish's sobs grew yet again, to absolute wails of anguish, of despair, as she realized...she'd driven Sonya out.

Oh, god...oh, god! It's...it's my fault! I made her leave! If I hadn't been such a slob, this never would've happened! She wouldn't have hurt herself on my hair clips, my magazines, my shoes and who knows what else! We wouldn't have fought, and hurt each other's feelings so much, and...and...

Trish's next cries turned into screams, as she threw herself on the floor, pounding with her fist.

...And I called her a fucking bitch and told her to go to hell! she remembered, chastising herself. Oh god...those were my...

"You're the fuckin' bitch, and I hate you too! Go to hell!!"

The echo haunted her tormented mind, as the most horrific detail dawned.

Those were my last words to her!! My last words! The last thing she ever heard me say! I told her I hated her, and to go to hell...and she died! OH GOD!!

She didn't think she'd ever be able to stop crying. How could she have been so callous? So thoughtless? So stupid?! Sonya'd seemed unreasonably rageful at this most recent encounter with Trish's floor-bound belongings. It would appear her last straw snapped, and her proverbial camel's back broke. She went off on Trish, letting her have it. And what did Trish do? She let herself lose control, and yelled back at Sonya. She cooperatively let Sonya go away, out into the cold winter night, alone. She could've handled things so very differently. She could've issued a stronger apology. She could've pleaded with Sonya not to go, to stay here with her so they could work this out. She could've planted herself in Sonya's path, steadfastly blocking her departure. She could've tackled Sonya to the carpet. Anything to keep from letting her out that door. But...she hadn't. She'd angrily let her go. She'd taken Sonya and her love for granted, and ended up paying the most dear price of all for it. ...And she couldn't undo it. Nothing was resolved.

Oh my god! she bawled. ...I killed her!! It was my fault! I let her go! She's dead because of me! Oh god, Trish, why??!

Deep down, a rational portion of Trish knew that she didn't really kill Sonya. True, Sonya wouldn't have walked out like this if they hadn't had this fight. But this accident could've happened anytime or anywhere. If Sonya'd stayed home tonight but left another evening, she could just as likely have become a drunk driving casualty. Another statistic. Trish knew realistically she didn't have to take the blame, but somehow...she...wanted to. It seemed almost right this way. Karmic. Nothing could restore her spirits right now, but accepting fault after making Sonya so angry and getting angry herself...at least made sense.

Inevitably, she began to calm down, only for want of energy. She rolled onto her side, hugging herself in a fetal position.

"Oh, my baby," Trish silently blubbered. "My darling, my sweet angel...I'm so sorry."

Some immeasurable time later, Fluff strolled back into the living room to see her Mommy crying on the floor. She sat watching, swishing her tail to and fro. A few moments later, she approached, and gave Trish a kitty kiss on the jaw with her little wet nose, following up with a head rub. Trish collected Fluff and pulled her close.

"Mrrrrrow."

As shattered and destroyed as she felt right now, Trish had to admit that holding her cat extra near and listening to her steady purr did make her feel a little better.

*****

Material Girl / The Ghost In You

Sunday, January 6th, 1985, 12:00 midnight

Trish had no idea what time it was, but could neither have cared less. Nothing mattered. Everything hurt. Her broken heart bled. So much of her wanted to die just to be with Sonya again. But she couldn't do that to her own loved ones as well as Sonya's.

She finally let Fluff go, and located the strength to get up. She turned the thermostat up a few degrees. She went to the bedroom, retrieved a pair of her own pajamas and socks, put the robe on over them, and slipped back out. She picked up Trixie and her no longer quite so hot cocoa, ambled into the dining room and perched at its table. She set down the cocoa, hugged Trixie tight and shut her eyes. She still couldn't believe it. Any moment now, she expected Sonya to come back through that door, like everything was just fine. They'd had fights before, and everything was resolved. They always forgave each other. They never went to bed angry. Or back to bed angry. She knew she got on Sonya's nerves sometimes, and heaven knew Sonya could get under her skin now and then. But it was one of the things relationships were all about. Like any couple, they celebrated the good times and fought for each other through the bad. One way or another, closure was always achieved. But Trishy couldn't make up with her this time. Sonya was gone. For good. And their last words to each other had been spoken in anger. Trish didn't want to remember her this way.

She hung her head and tried to stave off any more tears for the moment. Both her head and heart ached so much already. This may have technically been her house, but Sonya'd moved in years ago. Everywhere she looked, another memento tugged her heartstrings. Everything in this home reminded her of Sonya. It was Sonya.

Trish didn't think she could handle this. Perhaps...perhaps she should call her parents, and...maybe stay with them for a little while. Or...maybe that wasn't necessary. She didn't know. All she knew was that her girlfriend had abandoned their world. And that she was alone. Irreparably crestfallen...

...And all alone.

"Oh, Sonya," she sniffled, all but literally squeezing the stuffing out of Trixie. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart...I'm so sorry."

A cold breeze abruptly swirled and swept across the room.

"I know, Trish."

Trish's eyes shot open. She reflexively looked up.

Her blood froze...and curdled.

"AAAAAHHH!"

The translucent entity stood eight feet from her, where the living and dining rooms divided. Trish did not believe her eyes...and yet...

There she was.

Sonya's ghost.

Trish kicked over her chair behind her, scrambling backwards to the dining room wall.

"NO! NOOOO!! You're dead!"

Clad in only glowing, long white linen, the ghostly Sonya's limbs were not visible. She radiated iridescence, as if stepping out of a neon rainbow. She bore two large, glittery gossamer wings. A halo rested atop her bed of auburn hair, like one of Trish's big bows. She shuffled a few steps towards Trish. The cold breeze returned. Trish slid down until she was sitting against the wall. She held up her hands at arms' length, palms out.

"No! Please!" she implored in horror, sobbing all over again. "Get away! Stay away from me!"

Ghost-Sonya spoke softly.

"Don't be afraid, Trishy. I haven't come to haunt you."

"Please..." repeated the tearful Trish. "Sonya...you're dead. And, I...I don't believe in ghosts."

Ghost-Sonya neared, closing the space between them. Trish tried to push her dining table chair in the way, but Sonya passed right through it. The petrified alive girl on the floor tucked herself into a weeping ball and covered her face.

"Please just leave me alone!"

Trish cried hysterically on the carpet, as Sonya knelt beside. Though her spectral state did not alter, her chilly breeze vanished. Her translucence enhanced to full opacity. Fluff saw her, meowed and trotted to greet her. To Trish's utter disbelief, she felt arms envelop her. The same warm, snug embrace she'd come to know and love so much all these years. The tangibility was weightlessly light, but there. But Trish's mind still would not allow her to accept it. She screamed and wailed through her paws.

"Shhhhh..." Ghost-Sonya soothed. Trish could not feel breath or body warmth, but thought she just barely felt Sonya kiss a tear away.

"It's all right, sweetheart...shhhhh...it's okay..."

Trish's screams gradually settled to whimpers, though she certainly didn't feel it was all right or okay. Her specter-girlfriend scooted in close until all space was occupied. Trish could not find the courage to stop crying or uncover her face...but she couldn't honestly say that Sonya's loving hold and lulling whisper weren't comforting either.

"Don't worry, dear..." Sonya continued. "Don't be scared, baby...you're all right...shhhhh...it'll be okay."

Fluff examined and sniffed Ghost-Sonya all about her bare legs and feet, which with her arms were now visible, as she sat curled around Trish. She then maneuvered between them, and head-rubbed and nuzzled the both together. Trish peeked down from between her fingers to see her Maine Coon daughter...and the linen-gowned knees of a no longer transparent—yet still aglow—Ghost-Sonya Ross. She cringed in tears, shaking her head.

"No."

Sonya stroked and kissed her fluffy curtain of hair. "I know, honey, I know. Please try not to be afraid. My mortal being is dead, but you'll always keep my memory alive. That's what's happening. You're remembering me. You love me, sweetheart. And I love you."

Post-midnight seconds ticked on. Slowly but certainly, Trish's crying tapered down. Sonya held her as long as she needed, and when Trish screwed up her acceptance, she at last dropped her hands.

There it was. The face she fell in love with seven years ago. And was still in love with. She couldn't help it. Her eyelids began to hurt.

"It's okay, darling," whispered Sonya, cradling Trish's head with her chin and arm. "You just cry it out. As much as you need to."

As freaked out as Trish still felt, as shredded, as absolutely devastated...she slowly, timidly reached out...

...And ever so gingerly, ever so tenderly, slipped her arms around her, hugging Sonya back.

*****

Talking Back To The Night

Sunday, January 6th, 1985, 1:00 a.m.

It took the better part of another hour, but Trish finally settled down. And let herself accustom to the fact that believable or not, paranormal or not, love it or not...she actually had her girlfriend back with her...even if in a lesser form. She obtained her bearings, stood, quiveringly made way into the kitchen and turned on the radio. After enough adjusting between static, she located a Top 40 station, launching into a very recent number one hit. Knowing all the big hits, Trishy naturally recognized it. Unfortunately, it reflected an ironic counterpoint to her situation. She let her hands drop and slap her sides.

"Unbelievable. I think a little music might be nice, little distraction, help take my mind off things, and what does it give me? 'I ain't Missing You at all.' Not funny, Mix 96 FM Juniper."

The sparkling ghost and angel sitting at the dining room table patted its surface with her palm.

"Never mind the music, Trishy. Come sit with me."

Trish timidly padded back into the dining room, and uncertainly seated herself beside Sonya.

"This can't be possible. I mean, I'm sitting here talking to the ghost of my dead girlfriend! This doesn't happen in real life!"

"Some things cannot be explained in the rational universe, sweetheart."

"Oh, but Sonya..." Sigh. "...If you could've possibly known what I felt when that policeman told me that awful news, what went through my head...there...there was a crack in the Earth. My entire world ended. I just...I-I j—...I just can't believe you're gone!!"

"I'm sorry, Trishy...I shouldn't have left like that."

"N—ar—no! No no no, I'm sorry, Sonya! My god, I am SO so so sorry! It was all my fault! I...I have to learn to pick up after myself! Oh my god, if...if I went around tripping and slipping and hurting myself on everything on the floor, it'd drive me crazy too!"

"It's all right, Trish. I love you, flaws and all. I know you feel the same about me. And, by the way...

"I hope you know I never meant to treat you badly. And now I know just what a...girl-friend like you is for."

Trishy let some silent time pass for her expression to shift. Something fond and bittersweet pulled at her heart. She shot Ghost-Sonya a look of amusement, with just a dash of chiding t'sk mixed in.

"...You stole that right from that song in the Garfield specials. And..." Sniffle. "...And I love you for it.

"I just...I just can't help it, Sonya, I'm just so sorry. For everything I've ever done wrong in our relationship. I didn't mean it either."

"Now don't you go taking all the blame for yourself, Trishy. It's always more polite to share. I did a lot of bad things too."

"But...but, we, just...we never went to bed angry. It just crushed me that the last words I said to you were so nasty. I wish more than anything I could take it all back and make everything okay again. I just want things back the way they were. I...god, I just..."

She paused, trying to stop her mouth trembling, as again her eyes leaked and nose ran.

"I just want you back so bad, Sonya! I've never wanted anything more in my life! I just can't believe this...I'm so heartbroken."

"Oh, my darling...broken or not, I'll always be in your heart. And you in mine. I'm right here with you quite literally in spirit. Just talk to me, Trishy. Tell me everything you ever wanted to say. I'm all ghost-ears. Pour your heart out to me."

Fluffernutter trotted into the room and leapt up onto the table. She paced and sniffed about a moment, before pushing into Trish's hand for some obligatory petting.

"Oh, my...goodness, sweetheart, I...like, don't even know where to start."

"Hee...I love it when you accidentally make a poet out of yourself. I love everything about you, Trishy."

Trish gave in to the inevitable next wave of tears.

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry all over again."

"Aw, Sonya, please, please don't. I'm the one who owes you the apologies. Virtually everything that's gone wrong in our relationship's been due to something I did. That's what I wanna pour out to you: 'I'm sorry's."