Love That Stays

It was a dreary thing, being a ghost, but Regina made do. She was the one who had fought to stay behind, so she was the one to blame if the lack of an afterlife became a trifle boring. Instead of moping about, she busied herself by looking after the affairs of her house. Heaven knew Norman was hopeless with a duster. It hadn’t been a problem, before he starting sending the maid away.

Tucking wisps behind her ears, Regina looked at the slumbering lump of a man and tutted. He still kept to the far side of the bed. “Come, dear.” She folded the bedspread away from his shoulders. “While there’s still some morning left.”

His face scrunched where the sun touched it, and he gripped his pillow stubbornly. “Too soon, Regi,” he grumbled. “G’sleep.”

She waited, watching him while the silence stretched on.

It was the lack of a reply that finally stirred him. Dark eyes opened, framed by faint lines and a fringe of graying hair. They landed on the vanity across the way. Instead of his wife, Norman was greeted by an empty room and the sad, startled man who lived in its mirror. His breath caught. Then, with sudden ferocity, he flung the bedspread away and planted his feet on the floor. The boards creaked along with him.

Regina ducked out of his way, not wanting to give him another chill. “You’d best fetch your robe for today,” she said. “It’s bitter out.” She liked saying little things to go along with his habits. That way, when he pulled the robe off of its hook and wrestled it on, she could imagine he’d heard.

He left the door open, and she stepped after him. Down the hall and down the winding stairs… He put the kettle on to boil, and she slipped the tea leaves in when he wasn’t looking. He sat and reached for the newspaper; she took her seat across from him at the breakfast table.

“You really should go for a stroll,” she said gently. “If you bundle up, it’ll be good for your heart. Brisk.”

He mumbled under his breath and flicked the paper to a new page.

“Find something interesting?” Gliding over, she peered at the columns. Gossip and letters to the editor. She smirked. “You don’t have me to disagree with, so you’ll do it with the Daily Shine. Figures.” He had told her once that arguing with her was like speaking to a brick wall. Who knew? Maybe a wall of words was a good substitute. When a wayward corner threatened to fold over his article, Regina tucked it back. He reached at the same time, and his fingers brushed through hers.

Warmth. Heat spread through the palm of her hand and traveled up her arm, over her shoulder, around her chest. It settled about her like a shawl. She reached for its source instinctively-

And only stopped when Norman’s chair ground over the tile. He was cocooning himself in his robe, shuddering, with his right hand pressed close to his heart. It trembled. “Stop it,” he whispered. “Stop doing this to yourself. I can’t... “ He covered his face. “Lord, help me. I can’t. Nothing feels right anymore.”

Her arms fell back to her sides. She stayed by the table while Norman retreated. The paper hung in halves, one drooping over the lace tablecloth. A slam of the door sent it sliding to the floor.

Regina bent to pick it up, but stopped. Crouched instead and folded her arms over her knees. “Lord, help us both,” she said. “If we’re still on speaking terms, that is.”

The kettle began to whistle. She let it.