Three Ghosts

Carol and her boyfriend floated through the closed door. “Hello,” she said to Sabrina. “I heard you introduce yourself to Arthur.”

“And you are?”

“Carol. And this is my better half, Tim.”

“And your tips?”

“Stainless steel appliances can be cleaned with baby oil on a paper towel,” Tim replied.

She smiled and ushered him in.

“Fresh mint in every room will keep flies away,” Carol said. “And lavender deters mosquitoes.”

“Oh, two tips. I’ll keep them in mind. You may enter.”

Tonight, Arthur, Carol, and Tim were stargazing again in the mortal realm. Whenever a shooting star was planned, one of the friends would choose an empty home for all three to explore. Its occupants would always be on holiday. These ghosts would lounge around, flick through the music selection, check where the alcohol was stashed, and time their stay so they could enjoy the meteor show from the best vantage point.

Arthur moved on to the bar. “Ah, vodka!” He screwed off the lid and sniffed the bottle. “Not the usual standard I’m accustomed to.” He felt queasy. He massaged his temples and ambled to the stereo. “Yes! They have a record player.”

Tim rubbed the shade of the vintage lamp. “Is this from the seventies? It’s got that rough feel. And notches. But I don’t remember it from any other place we’ve haunted.”

Carol joined him for a closer look. “It’s from an era when texture was in. Do you think it’s a family heirloom? It’s out of place with the rest of the décor.”

“Well, you picked a suburban house instead of a mansion.” Arthur thumbed through the vinyl collection. “Even their music tastes are suburban. What made you choose this house? It’s not our usual luxury stay.”

“This neighbourhood has the best vantage point for tonight’s cosmic star show,” she replied.

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked. “Any mansion on the harbour would be better than…Hey, they have Donna Summer.”

“Which album?” Carol joined Arthur. “I know that cover. Donna on an old radio. It’s a ‘best of’ collection with a few new songs thrown in. Well, they’re old songs now but you know what I mean.”

Arthur pulled out an album with a cartoon image of a man in a pink shirt. “Who are Bright Light Bright Light?”

Tim peered over his shoulder. “You’re gay and you don’t know who Bright Light Bright Light is?”

“I’ve been dead for a while,” Arthur replied.

“Ah, I remember this artist.” Carol pulled the record from its sleeve. It was bright pink. “I saw this cover come up on the computer screen we played music from in that house with the marble entrance. The big mofo marble entrance.” She handed the record to Arthur who placed it on the turntable. “We’re in another gay household.”

“Cool.” Arthur recognised the first track. “Yeah, this was a good album.” He hummed along.

“Hey, you’ve got to see this,” Tim called. He was around the corner in the dining area. “Arthur, you really have to see this.”

“Why are you looking through their photo album?” Carol asked her boyfriend. “You’re not the nosey type.”

“Well, Arthur thought the lamp looked familiar so…” Tim gazed at its open page from the surface of the cabinet he found it in.

“Arthur.” Carol’s tone was urgent. “You really need to see this.”

But as Arthur strode towards them, he recognised something else. On the same dining room cabinet was a collection of framed photos. Most of the people in the pictures he didn’t know, but the grey-haired woman in the teal dress and the man with his arms wrapped around a stranger from behind were instantly familiar. Older, but familiar.

“That’s the love of my life,” Arthur muttered. He pointed to the man he knew.

Carol’s eyes widened as she gazed at Arthur. “That explains why your photo is in this album.”