Before I could ask when I might see him again, he dissipated into thin air just as quickly as he had appeared.
Fifteen
I turned over for what felt like the thousandth time, punching my pillow before laying my head back down. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table. It was nearing four in the morning. I groaned and flipped onto my back.
I should have been asleep hours ago, but my encounter with Archer and our conversation kept replaying itself through my head. I was still finding it hard to believe this was all happening. Did ghosts really exist? I thought of all the things that had happened over the last few months, and I knew if this was all real, if Archer was a ghost, he had been there from the start.
The weird electrical disturbances, things turning on and off randomly. Items falling off tables or things being in the middle of the floor when no one had been in the room before. A breeze sweeping by and caressing my skin, even when there was a fire blazing and no windows open and no source for it. A whisper in my ear when I was alone. The feeling of being watched. That scent, which I now realized must be his. So many little things, moments most people would brush off—hell, moments I had tried to. Now I couldn’t.
I threw the covers back, swung my legs over the side of the bed and stretched out long and slow, like a cat, and then pushed myself up and out of bed. I wrapped my long sweater around my body and padded downstairs to the kitchen to make a tea. I looked down and realized I was only wearing very skimpy underwear under my sweater.
My thoughts automatically strayed to Archer, and I walked back to my dresser, grabbed a pair of knit pajama pants and slid them up my legs. Normally I would have no issue walking around the house in just my panties, but realizing I wasn’t exactly alone had me thinking twice about the wisdom of that.
After I finished making my tea, I made my way back into the living room and sat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. I wrapped the throw draped on the chair around me and reached for the book sitting on the side table, and without opening it, I rested my tea on it on my knee while staring into the fire I had started.
I couldn’t even begin to calm my thoughts down. They were all over the place. A part of me was tempted to wake up Josie and spill what had happened. I wanted to hear her confirmation I was crazy.
Maybe then I could dismiss all that had happened as a hallucination and move on. A small part of me wanted to hold on to what happened though and not share it with anyone. I shook my head, wondering why I would even begin to feel this way.
Archer knew Dan’s name and that we were married. How long had he been watching? How much had he seen? Did he know what I looked like naked?
Did he watch as I got ready for the day? Even worse, had he watched while Dan and I made love? I shivered at the thought and shook my head, attempting to dislodge the thought.
No.
Even after just one conversation, I couldn’t believe it. Though really, what did I know? Maybe it was beyond his control. Maybe he had no choice as to where he could go. Maybe he had no choice but to witness all the things that happened in this house.
And then I wondered where he went when I couldn’t see him or when he was trying to make his presence known. Was he just attached to the property? Could he go anywhere in the world he liked?
My mind came up with new questions before I could even finish forming the one before. So many questions.
I knew I was the only one he’d managed to make contact with, but I wondered if he had attempted to reach out to Dan or anyone else. Why hadn’t I asked him any of these questions earlier? Weren’t those the kinds of things you demanded to know when finding out you were rooming with a spirit?
The one question I kept circling back to: why had Archer specifically chosen me as the person he wanted to connect with?
* * *
I finally managed to fall asleep on the couch, only to be woken up by a call from Dan in the morning. I was exhausted and the conversation was stilted, uncomfortable. He was just checking in with me, letting me know things were starting to improve, but he had no idea when he would get a chance to visit again.
I waited for the tiny stab of pain in my chest I’d started to get when he would tell me we wouldn’t see each other anytime soon, but it didn’t come. I wanted so badly to blurt out what had happened the night before, but Dan wouldn’t get it. He would either laugh it off as a dream or overactive imagination, or he would start to believe I was crazy.
I knew by the end of our conversation this wasn’t something I could share with him, and really, I didn’t think it was something I could share with Josie either, no matter how open-minded she was.
I decided to spend the afternoon with Marie to get some space and distance from the house and the Archer situation. At first, I wanted to confide in her too, but my gut instinct telling me to keep this close to me won out.
Spending the rest of the day with her ended up being the perfect diversion. I helped her out in the kitchen, learning some tips and tricks about cooking and baking, and stayed to share dinner with her and Steven.
As I was driving home, all thoughts of my ghostly roommate returned. I wondered when I would see him again. The uncertainty filled me with a bit of sadness. When I got in the house I took a quick shower, put on some comfy, warm pajamas, and settled onto the couch, putting a movie on.
I was maybe ten or twenty minutes into the movie when my skin prickled at the shift in the energy surrounding me, a new tension in the air. I shivered, goose bumps rising on my arms as Archer appeared beside me, in front of the couch he was sitting on last night.
“I love this movie,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
“Of course not, take a seat, if it’s comfortable for you,” I replied in almost a whisper.
We sat there in silence for nearly forty minutes, both of us watching the screen intensely, though I kept looking at him out of the corner of my eyes, not daring to turn my head and get his attention.
I wasn’t frightened by Archer—rather, I was strangely comfortable with him around. I had no explanation for the butterflies that took up residence in my stomach anytime he smiled at me.
I tried to maintain the appearance of watching the movie, but I couldn’t concentrate at all. The magnetism and pull in each dream he was in was present between us now, seeming to grow with every minute we spent in each other’s company. I was dying to ask him if he felt it too.
I found myself watching his every reaction to the movie as covertly as possible, enjoying every furrow of his brow and each grin. The expressions on his face when something happened that seemed to affect him emotionally, the joy and natural smile that would light his face when something humorous happened. I know he had seen this movie before, but he didn’t guard his feelings the way most people did, making it a unique, novel experience for me.
I waited until the movie was over to say anything. I didn’t want to interrupt Archer, as he seemed to be enjoying himself. Questions swirled through my brain, one right after another, but I also didn’t want to interrogate him right off. I sat there deep in thought, almost missing it when he was the one to break the silence.
“Rosalind, please tell me you love this movie as much as I do,” he said as he turned to face me, his gaze catching mine. The butterflies in my stomach took flight, the drop and swoop of unnamed emotions creating that weightless feeling again.
“I barely watched it,” I blurted out before I clasped my hand over my mouth, which seemed to have a mind of its own. Archer’s only response was a deep rumble of laughter. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“What were you watching then, Rosalind?”
“You.”
Shit. I couldn’t trust myself around him. His laughter grew even louder.
“Okay, so I obviously have no control over what’s coming out of my mouth.”
“I find it refreshing. Why were you watching me?”
“At first, I just loved seeing your reactions. They were so
unfiltered and honest. Then I zoned out thinking of all the things I should have asked you last night instead of talking about what we did.”
“Well, then, let’s rectify it now. What should you have asked me?” He shifted and changed his position, like he was settling in for a while.
I started biting on the tip of my thumbnail, considering which question I wanted to ask first. “So, I get you’ve been watching me, but how exactly does it work? Are you just around and watching all the time?”
He sat silent for a couple of minutes, looking at me thoughtfully, though I could tell by the look in his eyes he wasn’t really seeing me and was more lost in his thoughts.
“I’ve never had to explain this to anyone, so please bear with me. I haven’t fully worked out how this whole afterlife works, I only have my own experiences and beliefs to go on.”
“Okay. What do you believe, Archer?”
“I feel as though I’m now merely energy. I can manifest myself physically at times. I can even gather enough strength, or energy if you will, to make physical contact with people or things. I can manipulate them, move them. But it all seems to take a significant amount of energy.” Archer’s brow was furrowed as if he was deep in thought about what he wanted to say. “When I’m not using this energy, I don’t just disappear. I’m still here, in the air, around. I can leave the confines of this house, which I do quite often to ensure your privacy. Otherwise, my presence and spirit are just… here, around.”
I must have looked as confused as I felt, because Archer rushed to explain.
“When I say I’ve watched you, it doesn’t mean I’m sitting in a corner in the house watching your every move. I’m not watching when you’re bathing or dressing, or being intimate with your husband. That would be a serious breach of trust and manners. Over time I have come to sense and understand when privacy is needed, and I respect it, for anyone who has lived in this home. Does any of that make sense, Rosalind?”
He was leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees, his face between his hands, deep in thought while trying to accurately answer my question. He turned his head and looked at me, smiling shyly, almost sheepishly.
“I think so. So you’re saying if I want to just talk to you when I can’t see you, you can hear me, you could respond?”
“Yes, I’m sure I could.”
“Hmmm. Maybe I’ll have to try it some time,” I responded, giving Archer a silly smile. “I have so many more questions I want to ask you.”
“Well, shoot,” he said as he grinned. I found myself laughing. The use of the current phrase sounded so funny, but charming coming out of his mouth.
“God, I don’t even know where to start. Hmmm. Oh, are you tied specifically to this house? This land? Or can you move around to other places?”
“That was a lot more than just one question.” He ran a hand down his face, considering my questions. “I feel a deep connection to this place. I’m not sure if it’s because I loved this land so much when I was alive or because I died so close to this place. Maybe it’s the manner in which I died. Whatever the reason, I seem to be bound to the original boundaries of the land I purchased.”
He looked away from me, but not before I could see the sadness lurking in his eyes, and that dark edge again too.
I looked over at my phone, only to realize it had been a few hours since Archer had appeared. Soon he would need to go wherever it was he went to rest, and I too needed sleep after the near-sleepless night I’d just had. I didn’t think we’d be able to have the fun and lighthearted conversation I was hoping for, so I decided to end the night there.
“I’m sorry if I made you sad. Maybe we can continue this conversation another night? I’m drained, and I’m sure you must be too.”
“Yes, I feel my energy starting to fade. And no, you have no reason to apologize. It all still seems raw, even though it happened a hundred years ago. I hope to one day feel comfortable talking about all of it, the details of my death,” he said before looking outside and falling quiet. After a moment, he looked back at me. “I can come back tomorrow if you’d like?”
“Please do, Archer. Have a good night,” I said as I watched his form begin to fade.
“And to you, Rosalind,” he said before disappearing.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I found myself still awake. I decided to try out his theory.
“You there, Archer?” I called out into the silence of my room.
“Yes, Rosalind,” he responded.
His voice sounded like it was right in my ear and all around me, almost like surround sound, though I couldn’t feel his presence the way I had all the other times before meeting him.
“God, that’s so fucking creepy,” I said, giggling to myself. Somehow his responding laughter reverberated through the air and into my body, shaking me with his mirth.
“Good night, Rosalind.”
“Night, Archer.”
Sixteen
“What are you watching?”
The atmosphere became charged with whatever this thing was that seemed to constantly hum between Archer and me before his words even hit my ears. I turned in time to see him form solidly before he settled into his spot on the opposite couch.
We had been hanging out like this for the last week, and you would think I’d have been used to the way his presence made me feel, but I wasn’t yet. So I continued attempting to ignore it altogether.
“Hey! It’s this old show I used to watch as a kid. For some reason, I thought of it today and decided to try it again. I’ve gotta say, it holds up pretty well.”
I smiled at him before turning back to the screen and snuggling further into the plush blanket wrapped around my body.
“Holds up well? What do you mean? What’s it called?”
I still forgot we weren’t from the same time and that some things needed clarification.
“Sorry. I meant that I’m still enjoying it even though I’m older and the show is old. It’s called Daria. It was actually my favorite when I was growing up. The characters and humor just spoke to me.”
“All right. Tell me what’s going on here. What did I miss?”
I explained the premise of the show and told him what was going on in the episode he’d walked into the middle of. It was hard for him to understand a bit, so much was out of context for him, but he appeared to enjoy it and didn’t complain or ask once to watch something different.
“I think this might be the first cartoon movie I’ve ever seen,” Archer said in the middle of our third episode. I glanced over at him and caught the smile on his lips and I couldn’t help but return it.
“We’ll have to change that. There are some really great animated movies out there.”
“Was this really intended for children? I can’t see this being appropriate for you to watch when you were younger.”
I laughed and shrugged in a way that said, Probably not, but not much I can do about it now. “Watching as an adult, no, I guess it wasn’t appropriate, but my parents didn’t really monitor that closely. Plus, I turned out okay, so no harm, no foul.”
We sat in companionable silence as we continued to watch. I snuck glances over at Archer, curious to see his reactions and if he was enjoying this or just being polite. His quiet laugh every so often let me know he was catching on quick to some of the humor. I smiled to myself, silently thrilled to be sharing something I loved with him. I refused to dwell on the reasons why.
“Oh, Jane,” I whispered during the next episode.
“Hmmm,” Archer responded, his body turning toward me, his eyebrow quirked in question.
“The girl with the black hair and red jacket?” I gestured to the TV, my eyes never leaving his. “She’s my favorite character on the show. She was actually partially responsible for me getting into art and wanting to explore being an artist.”
“You’re an artist, Rosalind?”
Curiosity laced his voice and even after only a week of knowing him, I could someh
ow sense he wanted to ask more questions. I paused the show and then rearranged my body to face him more fully.
“Kind of, yeah.” Archer might not have intended for that to be a loaded question, but my voice, my response was heavy with all the things I hadn’t said.
“Can you explain that, please?”
“I went to school for art. I had the intention of getting out of school and making a name for myself in the art world. Then I realized it wasn’t that simple, so I got a job at a gallery, helping run it and teaching occasional classes.”
“It sounds like you’re an artist, Rosalind.”
“No, I’m really not. I graduated from college almost five years ago, and I have yet to have one gallery showing. I haven’t even finished a single piece since I was in school.”
I said the last sentence into my hands, unable to look him in the eye, ashamed at how far I had fallen, at how much I’d let complacency take over my life. When had I become this person floundering to figure out what her path in life was?
“Why do you feel that is?” Archer asked after a few moments of silence.
His patience with me, his ability to somehow discern what I needed in that moment was surprising and comforting. There was no judgment in his voice.
I bit on the tip of my nail, considering what answer I could give him that would be honest but wouldn’t give too much of myself away. The vulnerability he managed to draw out of me was unnerving and painful. The walls I always maintained around Dan, Archer was dismantling, piece by broken piece.
I sat up straight, stiffened my spine as though it might give me some strength and courage I wasn’t particularly feeling in the moment, and looked Archer dead in the eye.
“I’ve always been the kind of person who needs to be inspired to work. It all feels too forced if I try anything else. And I haven’t felt inspired in years. So long. Too long. I’m realizing now that I allowed this to happen. I got complacent and comfortable. And I somehow stopped looking for the magic in life. I stopped searching for the things that light up my soul and inspire me.” The final sentence came out a scratchy, painful rasp that hitched in my throat before leaving my mouth.
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