When I saw him the first time I didn’t think much of it.

I was six hours into a cashier shift at the big box home store, and the store’s link to the credit card processor had dropped for an hour and our sales flyer expired that day. Lots of frustrated customers, never enough cashiers. I was just finishing up with a man who had purchased 35 different loose nuts and bolts. I looked over to see who was at the customer service desk when I spotted him leaving Terri’s register. Bald with remnants of dark hair around the edge, on the heavier side, Hawaiian shirt – from the back he was the spitting image of my dad. But my dad had died seven ago, so I knew it wasn’t him.

Until he turned around.

Just for a brief moment he turned to get his bag off the counter, and I saw his face. It was my dad. It didn’t look like him, that was my dad!

“Is this still on sale?” the next customer pointed to the DeWalt drill/driver combo.

“What?” I said turning my attention from my dad for a moment.

“It’s on the flyer. That goes through today, right?”

“Yes, yeah,” I stammered and looked back towards my dad, but he was gone.

..

“I’m telling you, Alec, it was him!” I said before taking a drink from the bottle in the paper bag.

“Your dad? Who died like five years ago?” Alec said drinking from his own bag. We had walked to the liquor store across the street after work and procured our post-workday beverages which we were now enjoying sitting on the tailgate of his Ram truck.

“It was seven years ago,” I corrected. “But it was him!”

“It was a long day, and your mind was playing tricks on you,” he said lighting up a cigarette. He held the box up offering me one, but I declined.

“Dude, I’m telling you!” I said drinking again.

“Whoa, check this out!” Alec said, pointing to a classic car that had come into the parking lot and was rolling slowly past the now-closed store. “What’s that? ’65 Galaxie 500?”

“Holy shit, no, that’s a ’63 Falcon Futura! Just like my dad had when I was little.”

“Seriously? Listen to that!” Even across the parking lot we could hear the loping idle of a big V8.

“That’s like his, too – he swapped the straight 6 for a 302.”

“Wouldn’t that be funny if that was the guy you saw earlier?” Alec laughed.

“Right? I don’t remember who bought my dad’s car, but I remember it was someone way out of state – they picked it up on a trailer.”

We watched as the driver realized the store was closed and continued through the parking lot. As the car drew even with us the driver looked towards us. I locked eyes with him. It was my dad!

“Holy shit, Alec, that’s him! That’s my dad!”

“Bullshit!” he said dropping his cigarette and craning his head to get a look at the driver who was now past us and didn’t pause before accelerating hard onto the street.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“You’re sure?”

“I’d wager my left nut on it. I swear that was him!”

Alec looked at me hard, took a long drink and then said, “Jimmy, that’s creepy as hell.”

..

“I believe you, Honey,” Charlotte said dipping a tortilla chip into salsa before popping it into her mouth.

“Twice. I saw him twice!” I said as I loading my last tortilla with steak fajita and vegetables. “I mean, his ghost. Right? Not him, right?”

“Well, yeah,” she said finishing her enchilada. She paused, started to say something then didn’t.

“What?”

“No, it’s not appropriate.”

“It’s okay. What?”

“Just, I mean… you saw his body after he died right?”

I thought of walking into the hospital room and seeing his lifeless body that June day. Seven years had robbed my memory of none of the details – the waning sunlight through the window, how quiet the room was without any of the equipment on. He looked like he was sleeping. I touched his hand. It was cold…

“Yeah, I said. After he died, yeah. I saw him,” I set my fajita-laden tortilla back on the plate.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” I assured. I smiled weakly. “Seven years and sometimes it feels like yesterday, you know?”

“I do.”

I sighed and looked at my watch. “What time are we meeting your mom?”

“Seven thirty.”

“I’ll get the check,” I said and caught the eye of our server. “Could I get the check?”

“Oh,” she said, “It’s taken care of.”

“What?” I asked dumbfounded.

“This gentleman at the bar paid your bill already,” she turned to try to pick him out at the bar. “He said he knew you and to tell you he’d see you soon… He had a message for you. Oh, there he is going out the door now.”

I craned my neck to see the back of my dad’s head. He turned for just a second as the door closed occluding my view. I jumped out of my seat and ran for the door. It wasn’t more than a few seconds since the door closed but when I blew through it into the cool fall evening no one was in the parking lot. I looked up and down to see if someone had just gotten into a car, but no one stirred. I went back inside and went to the bar. “Excuse me,” I said to the bartender. “Guy who just left here. Yay tall, bald, beard, moustache…”

“Yeah, I remember him. Nice guy,” he said.

“What did he order?”

He pointed to the glass with half melted ice still on the bar. “Seven and seven, double limes.”

“Double limes?”

“That’s exactly what he said, ‘Seven and seven, double limes.’”

“Jesus Christ,” I said, steadying myself on the bar.

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah… yeah…”

“Jimmy,” Charlotte came up to me, “Are you okay?”

“Double fucking limes…”

“What?” she asked.

“That was him.”

..

The next day I finished my Contemporary Western American Lit class and was coming out of the Bahn building when I saw him across the quad. He turned towards me for a second – just long enough for me to see his face – before walking into the Fine Arts building.

“No,” I said, slipping my free arm through the strap of my backpack, “You’re not disappearing again!” I started sprinting across the quad, dodging students, detouring around a clique onto the grass and then I rushed through the still-closing door. The corridor was empty. I could see the hallway bent around a corner, so I ran to the bend and saw… no one again. But the door to the third classroom down closed with a thud in the quiet building. I sprinted for the door, threw it open and stepped into a dark, quiet classroom.

“Hello?” I said aloud. No response. I let the door close behind me, extinguishing the light from the hallway, leaving only the fading Autumn evening light as the only illumination in the room. “Anyone in here?” I let my eyes adjust to the light and looked around the relatively small seminar room. There was no where someone could hide.

Just when I thought I was truly going crazy, a voice spoke behind me: “Jimmy.”

I whirled at the sound and came face to face with my dad. “Dad!” I said.

“Jimmy, I’m here to tell you something.”

“What dad? What?”

“Jimmy, that goatee looks ridiculous on you.”

And he was gone.