Bittersweet

Annie Turner pulled out the metal chair and sat down, waiting expectantly for her companion to make an appearance. She leaned her cane against the table. 

A young waiter walked up to her table and asked her what she wanted to eat and drink. Annie ordered a cup of hibiscus tea. Longingly, she gazed at the bagel with cream cheese that lay, uneaten, on the plate of a man who sat nearby. If only she wasn’t so old and half her teeth hadn’t fallen out, then she would have ordered one. 

The tea came, finally, but sat unnoticed, wisps of steam wafting up as it slowly cooled. Annie Turner tapped her foot impatiently. 

Finally, her companion materialized. It was the ghost of her old friend, Mandie Oliver. 

“You’re here!” Annie cried, her weak voice quavering. 

“Did you order me some of that tea?” Mandie asked, and smiled brightly. 

None of the other customers sitting near Annie glanced up or seemed startled by the fact that Mandie floated inches off the ground. Nobody noticed the old ghosts, the ones with the hazy outlines and the see-through centers. The middle-aged ones glowed slightly, and the young ones practically shone, but the old ones were faint and quiet. Of course, that’s not to say no one saw them. People just didn’t pay close attention. 

“You can order some right now, if you want.” Annie waved the waiter back, and Mandie ordered a cup of green tea with just a bit of honey. 

Not that ghosts can drink tea.  

“Did Maisie ever finish that book?” Mandie asked, and Annie smiled. 

“Not yet. She claim’s she’s got writers block, but I think that’s just an excuse to escape to the countryside. I would have gone with her, but oh, those long road trips are a nightmare for my old bones.”

“Ghosts have it much easier, you know.”

Both of the old friends chuckled. 

Annie sipped her tea, and Mandie tried to pick her own cup up, but her hand moved right through it. “How unfortunate,” she murmured.

“See, that’s the problem with being a ghost. Can’t drink your tea.”

“Ah, yes,” Mandie replied. “But that heart attack didn’t give me a choice, it seems. Just gotta accept what comes.”

Annie smiled her sad, bittersweet smile. “That’s right. Accept what comes.”

• • •

Lucy Taylor laid the blanket out on the grass and put the plate of cookies in the center. It wasn’t a windy day; barely a breeze stirred the trees. The sun shone down out of a brilliant blue sky and there were only a few clouds out. It was the perfect day for a tea party. 

Her friend materialized out of the thin air. The bright glow around her edges could barely be seen in the bright sunshine. 

“May!” Lucy cried. “You’re here!”

The ghost of the little girl smiled. “Came as soon as I got your letter.”

Lucy smiled back cheerfully. “Have a seat. I made tea.” She set out two dainty cups as May sat down, and filled them with tea. 

May reached out to pick hers up, but her ghostly hand swept straight through it. She smiled sadly. “It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it.”

Lucy smiled, but it was a sad, bittersweet smile. “I wish you weren’t dead, ‘cause now you can’t eat chocolate chip cookies.”

May smiled back. “But at least I can still see you.”

• • •

Fourteen year-old Cole sat on the dock, dangling his feet in the pond. His mind was filled with memories: laughing as his best friend Isaac fell in the water, canoeing across the still waters at dawn with Isaac, doing anything and everything with Isaac. But he most recalled the worst memory. The memory of the event that had chased Cole from the pond, haunting him until he couldn’t come back to the pond until a few weeks ago. 

The boys, in their canoes. Laughing, racing across the water, relaxed. Isaac leaning over, trying to whack Cole with the oar. Then Isaac’s canoe tipping, flipping, trapping him under it. Cole had tried to help him, but by the time help had come and they had managed to flip the canoe over, Isaac was dead. 

Cole had left the pond, vowing never to come back. But now he had returned, and the memories flooded him. 

He dropped his head into his hands, trying to shut them out- the bad and the good. 

And then he looked up, and Isaac was standing next to him, smiling brightly. 

Cole looked him up and down, staring at his glowing frame and the way he floated inches off the ground. “Isaac- you’re back.”

“Temporarily. I never got to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye then.

Isaac looked hurt. “That’s all I get? I spent years trying to get through the curtain, trying to make it home to tell you I miss you, and you just send me off again?”

“You’re just a figment of my imagination,” Cole said, and stood up. 

Isaac smiled sadly. “Then goodbye, my friend. Don’t ever forget me.”

Cole smiled too, a bittersweet smile, and then Isaac vanished, leaving Cole alone in the cool morning air. 

One tear traced the length of his face, but he wiped it away.

• • •

I sat at the table on my back porch, letting the breeze rustle my hair as I watched the sun rise. It was three years ago my best friend died, yet it seems like only weeks. The pain is still fresh. It could have been anyone that got in that car wreck, but it just had to be her. 

I wrap my hands around the hot mug of coffee before me, trying to banish my pain to the back of my mind.

Even though I knew that it was an often occurrence to see a ghost, I was still surprised to see the ghost of Grace Arthur before me. 

“Hello, Hallie,” Grace- her ghost- said. “I’ve missed you.”

I smiled, tears in my eyes. “I’ve missed you more.”

And then she sat down on the chair across from me, and I told her all that has happened in the three years she’s been gone. The sun rose on us, and reached the top of the sky, and then sunk behind the trees, but I ignored it. I didn’t care, for I was happy to be with my friend. 

•••

And then Annie woke up. 

•••

And Lucy woke up. 

•••

And Cole woke up too. 

•••

And I woke up. 

•••

And then there was no such thing as real ghosts anymore. They only existed in the bittersweet dreams of the heartbroken and lonely.