This is late. And it’s not perfect. But it’s a solid ending for Jack and the girl in the midnight blue velvet dress and the tawny hair.

“I held up my end of the deal – I left you alone for the rest of the party. Your turn, Jack.”

I ignored her.

Okay, that’s not quite true. I wasn’t ignoring her, but I was in line at Starbucks so I just looked – to her – like I was ignoring her. I put in my AirPods, took out my phone, and tapped the screen like I was accepting a call. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”

“The hell? You’re faking a phone call?”

“No, no, I’m not ignoring you. And I have every intention in holding up my end of the bargain,” I said into the air. The guy in front of me cast a suspicious glance behind him at the guy talking to himself, spotted my AirPods and nodded in understanding.

Rule # 3: Bluetooth Headsets Make You Look Like an Asshole Which Is Better Than Crazy

“Oh!” said Tawny Hair Velvet Dress Stunning Lips. “So?”

“So,” I said, waving my phone around like the obnoxious jerk everyone clocked me as, “I’m in line at Starbucks right now…” Keeping up appearances here it key because as I was waving my phone around I spotted Carhartt Guy at an empty table and Bathrobe With Curlers wandering around behind the counter. Sure, there’s a dead girl talking to me, but I’m not acknowledging her and [Rule #1] I’m not making eye contact. So as far as they know I’m legitimately talking on the phone and Tawny Hair Velvet Dress Stunning Lips (I should shorten her name…) is just another ghost who is trying to draw the attention of one of the living (me) who can’t see she’s right there.

“Yeah, and?” she smiled. “Oh, hey, grab me a pumpkin spice latte!”

“You’re a pumpkin spice latte girl?” I asked, surprised.

“No, I’m a roast-my-own-goddamn-beans, grind-them-myself, use a fucking Aeropress woman. But since I’ve been dead I’ve realized there were some stupid things I never did during life because I thought I’d try them sometime. Like visiting Alcatraz. Or…”

“Or see whether a PSL is really all that.”

“Precisely.”

“Spoiler alert: it’s not.”

“Yeah, I’m dead. I guarantee it sounds pretty fucking good.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth,” I chastised.

“You mean the one who still cries herself to sleep because she believes her older daughter took her own life? That mother?”

“Touché’,” I replied. “Hang on a sec,” I said unnecessarily as came to the front of the line and ordered. “Hey, I’ve got an embarrassing question for you…” I said as I pushed through the door.

“Shoot.”

“I totally don’t remember your name.”

“Oh, so you’re calling a girl that you don’t remember her name? Wow, Jack, that’s the kind of guy you are?”

I rolled my eyes as I climbed into my Outback, stowed the AirPods in their case and started the car.

“For the record, no, I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You sure?” she smiled mischievously.

“What do I call you?”

“Cat. Catherine. ‘Dead Girl’.”

“Cat’s good. So, let’s cut to the brass tacks, Cat. Pixie Lip Ring said you killed yourself.”

“Pixie Lip Ring? Ginny? My sister?”

“One mystery solved.”

“’Pixie Lip Ring’? Jesus! Objectify much?”

“Cat, were you the kind of person who knew the names of everyone you came in contact with?”

“Eh, not really, but…”

“Okay, now multiply everyone you came in contact with by a factor of all the ghosts. If I know your name, I know your name. If I don’t… descriptions help.”

“What was my name?”

I smiled to myself thinking about “Tawny Hair Velvet Dress Stunning Lips” but I said, “Dead girl.”

“Oh Jack,” she fell back in the passenger seat and put the back of her hand  to her head, “You flatter me so!”

Internally, I swooned. This girl!

“So, Ginny said you killed yourself and you’re haunting her.”

“Yeah. She bought the story that I killed myself.”

“Okay, I’ll bite: why would they think you killed yourself?”

She scowled and deflated, “Because the sometimes-deeply-depressive girl who hates the holidays took a swan dive off of a Hotel Kabuki balcony after a company holiday party.”

“Everyone hates the holidays. And sometimes-deeply-depressive doesn’t seem reason enough to write it off as a voluntary long walk off a short balcony.”

She shrugged her bare shoulders. “Add in an eating disorder in my teens and…”

“And?”

“And a half-hearted suicide attempt after a bad breakup four years ago…” she turned to stare out the window.

I nodded but didn’t say anything as I started the car and backed out of the parking lot. “Where am I going?”

She turned back and wiped away tears and let out sad little laugh. “I guess that’s a benefit of being dead – my makeup doesn’t run.”

I laughed with her.

“Karmen!”

“No, I’m Jack. You’re Cat. Your sister is Ginny – this is all covered territory….”

“Asshole,” she punched my arm, but her hand went through me. “No, Karmen is my friend and co-worker. We went to the party together. She’s the reason I got pitched off the deck.

“Pitched off the… you’re going to need to tell me the whole story.”

She rolled her eyes, thought for a moment and said “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, I have an idea.”

I found an office park parking lot deserted on this Sunday morning, stopped caddywhompus across a row of empty spaces, and killed the engine. “Okay, I’m all ears.”

“Do you trust me?”

Rule # 6: Don’t Trust a Ghost – It Can Come Back To Haunt You

“Uh… sure.”

“Okay, let’s do a possession!” she said with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, no – okay, we’re not talking all ‘Exorcist’… Look, I can get in there,” she pointed her finger at my forehead, “and show you what happened.”

“Uh…”

“Alright, you know, don’t think of ‘possession’ as much as ‘mind meld’. That’s better, right?”

“Semantics, my dear.”

“Trust me?”

“Should I?”

“Absolutely,” she arched an eyebrow and smiled at me. Something inside me melted.

I swallowed hard. “Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, “Relax your body and open your mind…”

“If you tell me to visualize my own inner peace I’m going to find a way to smack you.”

“Come on, Jack. Relax.”

I did. Well, I tried. I lay back in the driver’s seat and focused on my breathing like I was taught in some guided meditation video I tried with a girlfriend way back when.

“That’s good. Okay, Jack, I’m going to come in, alright? This might feel a little weird…”

The bottom dropped out of my brain and her consciousness blew into my head like a firehose. I felt overwhelmed, like I was drowning in thoughts and memories that weren’t mine. I thought I might black out, honestly.

“Whoa, sorry Jack! That was too much!” her voice came from inside my head. “Let me back this off and make a little sense out of all this…”

The tide of memories ebbed and I felt myself on solid mental footing for a moment.

And then I was Catherine having Chinese food with a LatinX girl.

“Are you going to the holiday party?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?” I said.

“Come on, you have to!”

“Carmen, you know me. Do I look like a holiday party participant? Have I, in fact, gone to any of the previous holiday parties, company picnics, etc during my time here?”

“So… start now!”

I rolled my eyes. “Nah, leave me in the server room, thank-you-very-much.”

“Come on, Cat!” she ate for a moment. “Okay, look, I’ve got it! Let’s get hella dolled up!”

“Uh… why?”

“Because no one would expect it!”

“That’s a reason?”

“Seriously! I’m all TJ Maxx special and you’re all oversized button downs… let’s do this!” She must have sensed my apprehension because she launched in again. “Let’s get fancy dresses! I can do your makeup… let’s do this!

The world blurred and then Carmen and I were at Nordstrom Rack in Corte Madera and I had an armful of dresses to try on.

“Try them on!” Carmen pleaded and we started towards the dressing room. Everything froze.

“Wait,” Cat’s voice echoed in my head. “I always wanted to try this…” Suddenly, Yello’s “Oh Yeah” started playing through my brain and the memories came as an honest-to-god 80’s dressing montage.

I came out of the dressing room in a long brown halter dress. Carmen shook her head and I went back.

“Oooohhh Yeeeaahhh” the song played as I came out canary yellow dress embroidered with flowers. Carmen dismissed me with a wave.

“Soooooo Beautiful….” As I emerged in a black sequined tight-fitting sheath dress. Carmen’s eyes bugged out. I pantomimed not being able to breathe and then tottered back.

“OH Yeah!” and I came out in a chocolate sweater dress that barely came down mid-thigh. I raised an eyebrow at Carmen who fake fanning herself.

“Chick-chick-chikaah!” I stepped out in the long blue velvet backless dress I died in. Carmen gave me two thumbs up!”

Everything stopped again. “That was awesome!” Cat said in my head through laughter. “Way more fun than the actual dressing! We really should have montages when we’re alive to appreciate them…

 “Okay, hang on…” she said.

Carmen and I were checking in to the Kabuki in San Francisco. Then we were in the hotel room we decided to share. Then I had a towel over my dress and held statue still as she swore I was going to love the killer smoky eyes she was doing. Then we were walking down the hallway to the Imperial Ballroom. Everyone inside was dressed to the nines, but they couldn’t stop complimenting me. Janice couldn’t believe I could actually walk in heels. “I’m a wealth of hidden skills!” I told her as I saw Carmen flirting with our sales manager, Steve. I did tequila shots with my IT bros, David and Ben. Carmen was practically throwing herself at Steve.

“Girl, slow down!” I told her. “How much have you drank?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” she said. “I just saw you doing shots, so, you know…”

“A shot. “

Alice, Carmen’s boss in marketing, pulled me away and started asking whether I wasn’t interested in doing graphic design for her and she’s seen my work and over her shoulder I saw Steve bringing Carmen a drink, stop, set the drinks down, back to me, then towards Carmen.  Alice introduced me to her owl-faced husband who insisted on telling me about the ransomware that brought his company to a halt and how should he avoid that.

“Cat,” David caught my arm and literally pulled me away from Owl-Face. “Carmen just left with Steve…”

“Shit,” I said.

“No, she didn’t look good.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“I…”

“Where did they go?”

“He’s in 304, across the hall from me.”

Elevator opened on the third floor. Knocking at 304, “Room service,” I called.

The door opened to an already partially disrobed Steve muttering, “I didn’t order room servi–“ before I punched him in the throat. He dropped to his knees and I ran inside past him. Carmen was only partially conscious and he’d already hiked her dress up around her waist. Arm around me, leaning heavily I mostly carried her to the door. Gave Steve a kick on the way out.

Back in the room, I set Carmen on her bed. Opened the balcony door to get some cold air in to clear her head. Pulled the plastic covering off a glass in the bathroom when I heard the electronic lock click unlocked.

Steve and his fury. I tried to throw the water glass at him, but he batted it away and hoarsely yelled, “You bitch!” Flash of pain as he wrenched my arm. Gouged his eye with a finger. Roar of pain and anger. The room spun. I felt punches, slaps, then free fall.

Falling. I was falling. It lasted forever. Or seemed to.

I opened my eyes with a gasp and stared at the sunny deserted parking lot panting to catch my breath.

“Holy shit,” was all I could manage.

“Yeah,” Cat said and wiped tears away again. “That was hard to relive.”

“I bet!” I said nodding quickly.

“Carmen,” she said.

“Yeah,” I nodded quickly still, “Carmen.” Turned over the ignition and drove to Cotati to find Carmen.

…

“I… I don’t remember anything,” she said. “I… I can’t talk.” Carmen said when she opened the door. “I’m sorry. Tell Cat’s sister I’m sorry,” she started to close the door.

I stuck my foot in the door.

“Carmen, no. Cat’s here. She’s right behind me. She needs you to remember what happened.”

“Please leave,” Carmen said as her eyes welled up. “Please.”

“Goddamnit, Carmen,” I surprised myself with my raised voice. I realized it came from having experienced what happened to Cat. “You have to help. You don’t have a choice. You’re part of this!”

Carmen started sobbing.

“Whoa, Jack,” Cat said behind me, “It wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer!”

Rule # 9: It Wouldn’t Kill You To Be Nice

“Jack, tell her I should have gone with that yellow dress. It would have been easier to fight in.”

“Carmen, Cat says she should canary yellow dress because it would have let her fight better.

“’Canary yellow’, Jack? You were paying attention!”

Carmen’s eyes grew wide. “Cat?” she looked over my shoulder. “Are you really there?”

Cat sniffled, “Yeah, girl, I’m here!”

“She’s here. Right behind me.”

“I’m sorry, Cat! I don’t know what happened!”

“I know, Carm, I know. It’s not your fault,” tears rolled down Cat’s cheeks.

“She doesn’t blame you.”

Carmen wiped her eyes, then opened the door slowly. Cat and I walked in.

She didn’t remember anything, but it felt more like she repressed what she did. Cat offered salient details that slowly started to part the clouds of Carmen’s memory. After hours or gentle push-pull of remembering, Carmen was a sobbing mess as she recounted the foggy memory of Steve fighting Cat in the hotel. Then, crucially, she stopped crying and said, “I remember him throwing you over the balcony! I remember! Oh my god!”

Police were called. Carmen provided a deposition, and the police were already investigating another suspected date rape involving Steve.

This was the part that I extricated myself from their story.

It’s also the part when I started writing down these rules. “To self-preservation,” I raised a glass to Jake at Applebee’s a week later.

“How about to beer? That’s enough for me,” Jake returned.

I noticed that jerk ghost, Larry, across the bar. He winked at me. Asshole. Then I felt arms around me. Turning around I spotted the turquoise hew of Pixie Lip Ring.

“Hey, Ginny!” I said.

“Thank you,” she said, still hugging me.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Cat came to me in a dream last night. She was in this dark blue dress…”

“I’m familiar with it,” I smiled sadly.

“She told me what you did. And then… then she left. Went to the light. She was in peace. My mom stopped crying. Thank you!”

Ginny had a beer with Jake and me, and told me stories of them growing up. Then she left. Jake had to go shortly thereafter and I sat alone at the bar.

“Another?” the waitress asked.

“One more,” I nodded. “Thanks Julie.”

I drank alone and thought about midnight blue velvet and tawny hair. I smiled. It was a sad smile, but I was glad Cat had moved on.

Rule #10: Don’t Get Attached

Another sunny Sunday I parked my Subaru in the parking lot of Santa Rosa Memorial Park. Then I found myself in front of the grave of Catherine Elaine Fonseca. I brought flowers to add to the copious flowers already there.

“Thanks, Cat,” I said aloud. “Sometimes rules are worth breaking.”

“You’re welcome,” I heard behind me. Spinning I saw loose shoulder length tawny hair and overalls over striped tights and beat up Doc Martens. Her smile shone such that I thought I was seeing The Light myself.

“You look comfy.”

“I feel comfy.”

“I figured you crossed over.”

“I did. But I can come back and visit. And I had some unfinished business…”

“Oh shit, something else?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, asshole, I had to say thanks to this jerkface!”

“Jerkface, huh?”

“He can be kinda sweet, though… Thanks,” she said.

“It was worth it.”

“Jack?” I realized I was staring. “Jack?”

“Sorry, what?”

Rule #8: Never Go To Cemeteries

I suddenly realized dozens of ghosts saw me talking with Cat and were all making a beeline towards me.

“Run,” she said.