A Helping Hand (UPDATED VERSION)

Sending this one off to Writer's Digest for their Short Short Competition.

A Helping Hand

“So how long have you been able to see spirits?” Liz asked. She was Max’s type: redheaded, long-legged and, well, female. Max wasn’t too picky.

He looked down into his beer, appearing to think it over. “For as long as I can remember.” He paused long enough to take a swallow out of the glass. “D’you know what all those medium shows never tell you?”

Liz shook her head.

“They never tell you what a pain in the ass ghosts can be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have kids?”

She shook her head again.

“Let me paint you a picture: Mom’s in the bathroom, doing her makeup or whatever. And her kid’s looking under the door and calling, ‘Are you in there?’”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

“Okay, now imagine that, except the tosser walks right through the door. There’s no peace once they know you can see them.”

“Stop noticing them then?”

Max drained his beer. “Do you know how hard that is? Everybody around is ignoring them, so I'm all but guaranteed to look. Once that’s happened, they’re stuck on me like glue.”

“Is it so bad? You help them out and they go away, right?”

“It’s not always that easy,” he said. “For instance,” he reached across the table and laid his hand on her arm. It passed straight through, leaving his hand flat on the table and feeling as if he’d dunked it in ice water. “Some spirits don’t know they’re dead.”

***

“She was a regular when she was alive,” the bartender told Max, passing a picture over the bar.

Max looked at the woman. “Nice-looking,” he said. “This is amazing spirit photography, too.”

“She’s still alive in this photo. I snapped it an hour before she died.”

“She died here? What happened?”

“I don’t know the details. From what I gathered, she learned that her boyfriend was cheating on her. One of the first responders came back a couple of days after it happened and I asked him about it. I guess she had a heart condition that she didn’t know about, and the stress of her personal issue, plus all the alcohol…”

“It gave out,” Max finished.

The bartender nodded.

“So did she come back right away?”

“No,” the bartender said. “Last Halloween, a couple of regulars set up a Ouija board at her regular table.” He nodded at the roped-off corner table.

That was all Max needed, and he said so before quoting the bartender the price of his services. The bartender agreed, and Max took a table. He spent the rest of the day waiting, until Liz’s ghost appeared outside of the ladies’ restroom. She walked across the bar and sat down at the roped off table, where Max joined her.

***

Liz stared at Max’s hand, still in the middle of her arm.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered before wailing in despair. Her emotion was strong enough that everyone in the pub shivered.

“So what do you want?” Max asked.

“I didn’t even know I was dead.”

“Common enough,” Max said. “Most of you don’t know you’ve died until a medium tells them.”

“Aren’t you supposed to help me now, like, with my unfinished business?”

“You want help, you need to help yourself. I asked you what you want, and you didn’t know. You must want something since you haven’t gone to the light yet.” He removed his hand from her arm and rubbed it to warm it back up. “What were you thinking about before I caught on that you’re dead?”

She hung her head. “I was thinking about taking you home and screwing your socks off,” she said.

“Sorry love, I prefer my ladies breathing,” Max replied. “Wait, your place or mine?”

“Mine,” she said, sighing.

“So you know where that is?”

She looked away, eyes confused. After a moment, she answered. “No.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Was it nearby? Did you come here when you were alive?”

“I worked down the street and I was in here every night for a couple of beers before heading home.”

“I see,” Max said, nodding. “And did you make a habit of taking someone home with you?”

Liz looked down at her hands, and he knew that if she were alive, she would be blushing.

“Sometimes.”

“Likely you walked home,” Max mused, “so it must not be very far. Come on,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

He pushed through the pub’s door and let it swing shut behind him, passing right through Liz.

“HEY! You could’ve held the door for me!”

“Sorry, you lost that privilege when you died,” he said.

She huffed, but fell into step behind him.

“Any of this look familiar?” Max asked as they walked.

Liz looked around, then her eyes lit up. “YES! I used to get coffee at that shop!”

Max started to say something, but she took off, a lady-shaped streak of fog bulleting past him. He stopped, hands in his jeans pockets, and thought about going back to the bar.

He found her standing in front of a small brick cottage with white trim and a picket fence.

“Piece of the American dream right here,” Max muttered under his breath.

“It was my dream home,” she said. “Jesse was my ideal guy, too.”

She put her head in her hands and wept. “He’s still here. I saw him through the window.”

“Why don’t you go in? Seeing him might give you the closure you need to move on.”

Liz nodded and went inside, passing through the door.

Max leaned against a nearby tree, took out his pocket knife and began cleaning his nails with the tip. He waited, patient as grim old Death. When the shriek resounded through the neighborhood, Max pocketed the knife. He pushed off the tree and walked back towards the house as Liz passed through the door again.

“He’s screwing Bethany!” Liz shrieked.

“Who?” Max asked, trying to look innocent.

“My best friend! She’s up there riding him like a bull!”

“Well, you were up to shagging me,” Max pointed out. “How can you be mad at him for getting his jollies with your girlfriend, especially now you’re dead?” Max asked. “Besides, it could have started as them comforting each other after your passing.”

She shook her head. “I touched them both, trying to pull her off him, and saw their memories. They were doing it for months before I died.” She stopped as memories came back to her. “And I found out about it. That’s when I died. I was going to confront them both about it, but drank myself into a stupor instead. It was alcohol poisoning.” As she spoke, Max could almost see the memories click into place. She also started looking less like a woman, and more like a shadow with glowing red eyes.

Max knew she hadn’t died of alcohol poisoning, but didn’t correct her. “Well, you know everything now,” he said. “Do you see the light?”

“No! I’m not going anywhere until that asshole is as miserable as I am!” Her voice had taken on a demonic tone and Max backed away a step or two.

The entity that had been Liz turned on her heel and stormed back to the house. Max went back to the tree, and a few seconds later the noise began. Crashes, bangs and screams resounded from the house as she tore it to pieces. A dark-haired young man ran out of the house, followed by a young blonde wrapped in a sheet. A tea kettle flew through the door behind them, thrown by the now demonic Liz.

“Sounds like you have a problem in there, Jesse,” Max said, still leaning against the tree. “Sounds like an ex takes issue with your new girl.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Jesse asked.

“I know lots of things, mate.”

“Then you know Lizzie’s dead. There’s no way she’s causing this.”

“As a matter of fact, I do know she’s dead,” Max said.

“Who are you? How do you know about Lizzie?”

“I was taking a stroll nearby, trying to clear my head and saw her looking in your window. Thought she was a standard peeper, but then she went through the door. Then the banging and screaming started.” Max shoved off of the tree and withdrew a business card from his wallet. He handed it to the young man. “You don’t need the cop, you need me.”

“What’s this?” The kid looked at the card. “Max Prince, professional exorcist?”

Max smiled, reflecting that two paydays were as good as one. “That’s me.”