Ghost Lover

I picked her up and carried her to my bed, lying down and folding the weight of her body on top of me. How strange, to feel her weight, the warmth of her body! She snuggled into me, her breath warm and moist against my neck, and we dozed.

I awoke, as you've probably guessed, alone. I checked the clock, and saw I had slept late. It was almost time to go pick up Sarah at the airport. I got up and showered quickly. While I showered, I thought back on the previous night.

I couldn't remember dreaming exactly, but I now knew the whole story behind Elisabetta's presence in my life.

She was, as I'd already realized, a ghost. She had been killed by a hateful husband many centuries ago, killed because she had not been able to bear him a child. He thought it was some kind of witchcraft, some kind of trick she was playing on him to humiliate him and deny him heirs. He never knew he was the one who was infertile, so he struck her with an axe, and he put a curse on her as her life's blood flowed away. He told her that no man would ever want to take her again, that she was a dried up soulless witch, a whore condemned to suck the seed from men who would never want to touch her, and she would go through eternity without love. She would be cursed to an afterlife of utter, barren loneliness, and if she ever confided in a mortal man, or tried to make love to one in an effort to break the curse, she would burn forever in the pits of hell. Magic and curses, being so strongly believed in, held much more power back then, and as she died, the curse became her reality.

And so, when she had sensed my spirit through the portal opened by the séance, she had come to me, hoping I would be the one who could finally see that she was worthwhile, that she could be loved. What she saw in me, I'll never know, but I'm glad she did. She had hoped that I would be strong enough of spirit to take her as she was, and to take her, literally, in the sexual meaning of the term. All along I thought she meant I needed to take her somewhere, but I really just needed to take her love. In taking her, I had set her free. She no longer wandered a purgatory of desperate loneliness.

And from somewhere came the knowledge that she bore my child. I had no idea what that even meant, for a ghost to bear your child, but there it is. I still don't really know what it means, but I have seen too many things I don't understand for me to require my understanding as a burden of proof. So, somewhere, I have a ghost child. Crazy, isn't it? I couldn't begin to wrap my head around all the ramifications, so I did the only thing I knew -- I just kept on going with my life. One foot in front of the other.

I went to pick up Sarah at the airport, and she knew right away that something had happened, before I could say a word.

"She's gone, isn't she?" She looked at me with sad, dark, sweet eyes. "Elisabetta is gone..."

"Yes," I answered, "she's gone. But it's OK. She's free now. She's not lonely any more."

We sat silently in the car for a few minutes, just being together and holding hands.

"Do you miss her?" Sarah asked tentatively.

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss her," I admitted, "but I'm so happy to have you!" I bent to kiss her. "I've realized how lucky we are to be so alive, and how wonderful you really are. I love you, Sarah." I kissed her again and put the car into drive. Someday I will tell her the rest of the story, because she is a part of it, and because we don't keep secrets from one another. But today, I just want to celebrate being alive. With her.

"What do you say we go home and celebrate your promotion. Just you and me, for a change? Does that sound all right?" I hoped she wouldn't want to dwell too much on Elisabetta right now. I wanted this to be our time.

"Yeah," she said with a funny little smile. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I could get used to having you all to myself..."