H A U N T E D

t w e l v e

t w e l v e

Thursday. My sixth day in Homer, Alaska. My third day - technically fourth - attending Homer High School. What can I gather from my very limited observation of the small coastal town? It is slowly sucking the life out of me. Not literally, of course, but the lack of sun is starting to get to me. I enjoy the rainy days as much as the next environmentalist, but goddammit I need my sunshine.

Flynn and I never spoke last night. I got home at around five, but he was nowhere to be seen. I made some lasagna with green pepper and thin slices of pepperoni decorating the top of the casserole and made a note on a Post-It notepad informing my grandfather where he can get his dinner.

Flynn's words keep circulating in my head. I didn't even think he noticed that I was locking myself up in my room. I didn't mean to give off the impression of being hostile, rude and ungrateful. I just don't know what I would find in the company of a sixty-something-year-old dude. Maybe I could ask him about my grandmother? I never knew the women, and I do not want to get to know her in her afterlife but the shadows in my room at night, prevent me from achieving my wishes.

Last night at around two in the morning, I awoke with a sudden gasp of air. The realization of why I was awake, sunk in almost instantaneously. My eyes searched through the room - which was lightened up by my desk lamp seeing as I still have not yet bought a nightlight - and my eyes fell on her. My deceased grandmother, sitting on the edge of my bed and holding the photo of my mother and myself, on one of our last trips. I clenched my comforter between my fists, willing my eyes to close but I could not bring myself to look away.

This was the first time I met the woman.

We didn't speak. She didn't seem to have noticed that I was conscious and aware of her presence. I did notice that a tear roll down her cheek and fell onto the glass of the photo frame. Looking at her, I realized how much we look alike. We shared the same soft features, except she was prettier than I could ever hope to be. She was beautiful because she was good. A golden glow surrounded her and I knew there was no need to banish her because she was not permanently stuck in this realm. She has moved on, she is in her version of euphoria. She was only visiting.

Even as she sat there, she looked only a few years older than me. I recognized her from photographs that hang on the walls in the hallway. Over my years of being in touch with the dead, I have learned one thing. Souls will look at the age they feel. If a person who is a young adult of twenty feels as though they are much older and tired than their actual age, it will reflect that in death unless their feelings change.

I wanted to ask her to tell me about my mother, where she is, how she's doing if she misses me. But I didn't want to scare off my grandmother. She was in a very vulnerable state. After about twenty minutes, she quietly stood up and placed the frame back on top of my drawer, before turning back to me. I closed my eyes at this point, hoping that I would be able to fall asleep. The floorboard slowly squeaked as she moved closer and I smelled her perfume. I recognized it as being Elizabeth Arden perfume brand, a brand my mother used to spray on her pillow at night and sleep, on the days she felt most lonely and no pleas from me could save her happiness for the day.

Suddenly, I felt the softest brush of lips against my forehead, and then the smell of perfume was gone.

I stare at myself in the mirror, feeling detached from the person staring back at me. I take a deep breath through my nose, feeling the air burn my lungs, before forcing myself to smile. This is a new town, this is a brand-new Ophelia. After this year, I'll be off to college and after that, I'll have my little cottage in the country, with my cats and a cow and ducklings because that's what I want. I just need to push through today.