Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
It’s an odd, unexplainable piece of pseudo-science, the fact that my dear roommate Westley can’t be seen or heard unless a candle is lit in this apartment. Westley, as the lucky resident ghost, can see and hear everything, no matter if a candle is lit.
But that’s not even the worst part. “Are you simply forgetting the other thing?”
West squints at me. “Other thing …?”
“Yeah. The other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
He chomps off another bite of pizza and shrugs. “I obviouschly don’t,” he says through his mouthful.
I clear my throat. “The Patrick Swayze, Whoopi Goldberg, Ghost, sharing-my-body thing.”
His chewing stops. “Oh. That.”
“Yeah, that.”
West gives the notion exactly four fruitless seconds of consideration before swallowing his bite. “He doesn’t have to know that part. Tiny omission. No need to tell.”
I rise out of my chair. “Really? No need to tell him the first time we went on a date, you were also inside of me, sharing my body, mind, and thoughts?”
“It … It was all for a good purpose. Don’t make this out to be worse than it is. I gave you confidence, the confidence you needed to even get his attention.”
“Debatable, whether I really needed it in the end.”
“Dude, you could barely form a sentence around him without me inside you. Hell, it’s also thanks to me you even have the job you’ve got. I gave you the push to go back to them and demand they hire you.” He gives me a look. “You got a crummy way of being grateful.”
I step toward him. “And what about the countless dinner and movie dates Byron and I have gone on …?”
“I was just a silent third wheel. Lover boy doesn’t have to know.” He takes another bite and chews away.
I come right up to West’s face, startling him. “And the first time Byron and I had sex?”
West swallows his bite, staring at me blankly.
Yep. He was there for that, too. Inside my body. My mind. My thoughts and my racing heart. Marveling at how amazing it felt, without an inch of disgust inside his totally-straight-as-a-bone, heterosexual soul.
I mean, if we’re being literal here, we did have inches inside of us. Byron’s inches.
But we change when we’re together. When Westley and I share my body, we’ve realized over the years that we become something completely different. Not quite him. Not quite me. Something new. Someone new.
And we experience it together.
But we’ve since learned to manage our schedules better. After that first time, West and I decided never to share my body on a night when Byron and I may get intimate. It was too deceptive to Byron. It robbed me of having a true first time with him. It was dishonest.
Of course, it isn’t the easiest thing to plan. When Byron is feeling frisky and spontaneously starts to go to town on me here in my apartment—and West is inside me from whatever movie date we were on—I’ll excuse myself to the bathroom, West slips out of me like a shiver on a cold winter night, and I’ll return, fresh and ready to have Byron all to myself.
But a few times, Byron has surprised me and taken me to his place instead of mine. Because the pair of us have never separated outside of my apartment, I always have to make an excuse for not having sex. I pull the old I-have-a-headache trick. Or the I-have-a-bellyache trick. Or insist I feel more snuggly instead.
In all honesty, I’m not sure what would happen if West exits my body when we’re not in our apartment.
We’re both scared of the possibilities.
But that’s the least of my worries. I don’t think over the past couple of years that either of us truly considered the consequences of our actions. How will Byron take it if he found out about West? How bad is this betrayal, to have kept this a secret all this time?
What does it say about our marriage before it’s even properly begun?
West puts a hand on my shoulder. “Look, you’re just stressing out over the wedding. Your parents will be in town. His weirdo dads, too. There’s gonna be a cake you’ll complain about. Friends from your Pixelomenon office and his Spooky Beans Café. Making sure you still fit in your wedding dress.” I elbow him for that. He chuckles. “You’re just spiraling out. It’s totally normal. You need a hard drink and a night of porn.”
“Yeah, and I almost just got hit by a bus,” I remind him. I think my heart still hasn’t returned to a normal rate since the encounter. Did that all really happen?
West’s voice turns sensitive. “Look, I know you’re probably still in shock. I don’t mean to … like …”
“Ignore that I almost died …?”
“Yeah, that. I’m just trying to say, like … from the perspective of someone who literally has died, that’s just what life is. You’re drinking a beer one second, you try to impress your friends by standing on the railing of the fire escape, you wonder for a second if you would make a good barber, and then you’re dead.”