Chapter 6

 

“Isn’t that what friend’s are for?”

“What?” I said to no one in particular, unaware of Brian’s sudden and unexpected return.

 “I said… isn’t that what friend’s are for?”

 “Damn it Brian, you’re really starting to creep me out. First you bulldoze your way back into my life and now you’re invading my mind? I’m not sure what kind of perverse pleasure you are getting out of all this but enough’s enough. This needs to stop right now.”

 “Oh poor you. Your dearly departed dead friend knows your deepest darkest secrets.  Do you think I have nothing better to do then to run around telling everyone you know you’re hiding a massive guilt trip from the rest of the world? Now do me the favor of answering your own question:  “Isn’t that what friends are for?” After all, is it not the job of your best friend to drag you kicking and screaming to your true destiny even when you fail to recognize it yourself?”

 “That would imply I don’t know what’s best for me, and I strongly deny that accusation.”

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Brian’s bemused expression quickly evaporated.

 “If that were really true,” Brian said,” you wouldn’t be an unemployed second stringer who used to work for a cheesy tabloid.  In fact, isn’t it true that you’ve been using my death as an excuse to avoid dealing with your own reality? You certainly milked it for all it was worth didn’t you? My death was your excuse for lousy exam results and the fact that you ended up graduating at the bottom of your class. My death was the reason you could never hold down a decent job. Hell according to you, my death was even responsible for your failed marriage.”

Brian’s accusation cut right to my core. Anger swiftly bubbled to the surface and came spewing out of my mouth before I had a chance to reconsider my words.

“You sick bastard!” I said tearing into him. “You were my best friend. I just stood there like an idiot and watched you die.  I couldn’t live with myself after that, and everything just fell apart. ”

Brian spun around angrily, inadvertently flinging globs of ectoplasmic goop everywhere.

“You self-indulgent little shit.  People worked really hard to help you reach your full potential, and you tossed it all away.  That in itself was bad enough, but to use my death as an excuse to do it, that was an insult to me. It diminished my existence to that of saboteur and destroyer of dreams.  I died trying to teach you to live life to the fullest and you tarnish my memory by using me as an excuse for all of your life’s little failings. Thanks a lot!”

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I was taken aback by the intensity of Brian’s attack on my character. He was or at least had been my closest friend. More to the point, because of the way I’d closed myself off from everyone we knew after his death, he, as it turned out, had been my only friend. Now even that was doubtful. 

“If I’m as much of a fuckup as you are implying, why the hell are you here? I mean really, what the hell do you want from me? My life has turned into one colossal steaming pile since you showed up, and I want to know why.”

Brian laughed so hard he momentarily lost his ability to manifest himself and he started to shimmer and disappear for a moment.

“I see,” he said slowly pulling himself together. So your life was perfect before I showed up. Does your ex, Greta know that? Or your boss? Or should I say former boss? How about your friends? Oh wait I forgot… you don’t have any.”

I could feel equal doses of rage and embarrassment beginning to well up inside of me as my cheeks turned a bright red. However, the words that surged to the tip of my tongue refused to make their way into the world and I finally just stood there growling at him.

Brian flashed that Cheshire cat grin of his at me and started to bellow with laughter. “Well, well, well. Is the great wordsmith actually speechless? Hard to believe, especially since you didn’t shut up the entire time I was alive. And now, now that I’m dead, you suddenly discover the off switch? Give me a break.”

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“What do you want me to say? That I fucked up? Ok I fucked up. I felt so guilty about you’re death that  I let myself wallow in self pity rather then face the fact that I just stood there like and idiot and let you die.”

Brian suddenly drew so close that the slime of his ectoplasm, the consistency sticky syrup, was dripping all over my face.

“Self loathing doesn’t become you,” he said with more then a touch of sarcasm. “Besides, you had nothing to do with my death and somewhere in that pea brain of yours, you actually know that. I was a smart ass and a force to be reckoned with and you know it. No one, not even you, ever had the power to talk sense into me. So why do you think the day I died should have been any different?  

I took a sharp step backwards, wiped the ooze from my face and threw my hands up in defeat.

“Alright, enough! I concede. But then again I never could win an argument with you anyway. Not even sure why I tried. Oh wait it comes back to me now. You’re being an asshole. Maybe if you finally told me what this was really all about, I could do something about it and end this nightmare once and for all!”

“Is that what they taught you in journalism school? To skip to the end of the story? Because I went there too and I don’t remember them saying anything about skipping the details and tripping straight to the end. If you really want to know what this is all about, then pretend, if only for the duration of this exercise, that you really are an investigative reporter, and investigate!”