Inktober #22: Ghost

I wake up to see your back to me. I feel like I'm always the one to wake up first. But I don't mind. I stare absentmindedly at your shoulders, watching the slight rise and fall as you breathe. I roll over as delicately as I can to check the clock. 7:23am. Early this morning. Good. A little time to take you in.
I roll back, seeing the mess of your black hair against the pillow, your bare shoulder, the sheet wrapped tight around you but comforter tossed aside in the late summer heat. I keep it around me. I always ran cold. Run cold.
I continue my gaze downward, admiring your waist, the curve of your hip, all the way down your leg to your foot hanging off the edge of the bed, a habit I've never understood but always smiled at.
I don't want to wake you, but it's too tempting. I reach out towards you, just to feel the warmth and slight amount of sweat on your back.
A trilling birdsong from your side of the bed stops me as you shift and stretch your arm out to quiet the alarm.
8:00 already? It came too fast.
You blearily shift around, first onto your back to stretch your arms up to the ceiling, only to turn your head and see me, smile, and swing your arms over me in a silly and warm embrace. I'm awash in the memory of every time you've done this, whether I'm awake or not. I can't help the smile.
Too quickly you swing back the other way, and I admire every inch of you as you dress for work. You turn back with a wink and then exit, heading to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.
I leave the me turning back towards sleep behind, and follow.
I turn the corner and almost run into the refrigerator door as you open it, mutter a quick "Oops, sorry," before I remember you can't hear me. You'd hear her, in the bed, but she didn't come with you this morning. So I do, now, instead.
It's a simple ritual you rarely stray from. Turn on the kettle, grind the coffee, grab a pan, cook the eggs, toast the bread, pour the newly boiled water into the french press, put the food on a plate, pour the coffee, and head to the dining room. It must seem mundane. I usually stayed in bed because a big breakfast would make me feel ill. But now that I get to see you do this...I understand the meditation. The repetition. The ritual of it all. I love you for it, and for so much else.
In a blink you're done and you head back towards the bed. I rush in and rest myself where she is as you lightly plant a kiss on my cheek.
"I'll see you soon," you say.
"I love you," I say.
"mrf oo," she says.
You grin and walk out, image disappearing beyond the front door as you leave.

"August 9th, 10:45pm, please," I say aloud.

The room shifts nearly imperceptibly, as the light changes from early morning to dark, a pair of used socks appears by the bed, the clothes in the closet shifted slightly between hangers. And she is no longer in bed.
I can hear the TV from the other room. You'll be getting tired about now. Ready to return here. Did we have sex this night? I can't remember. It doesn't matter.
Soon enough I hear the TV turn off, and you two walk by the door to the bathroom. We brush our teeth, floss. She giggles at something you did. I wait here.
The two of you walk in, get undressed and into light pajamas. You set the alarm. She takes position where I am. You get in on your side of the bed. We kiss. But no more, I can already see your eyes drooping.
We rest there with your arm over me, and you nearly asleep, until you wake enough to turn over and turn out the light.
I try to put my arm over you, hold you close, but she didn't this night. I have to be careful not to pass right through you. But the glow of the Proof tech still gives some heat, and soon enough I fall asleep there with a smile.

I wake up to see you eyes open and facing me...why? I check the time, 4:34am. I look back at you and suddenly realize that she's not there.
Do you-
"I can feel you there," you say suddenly.
I gasp. My heart ratchets up into my throat with every quickened beat.
"I don't really know who or what you are," you say quietly.
"It's...it's me, please, please you know-"
"Whatever kind of spirit you may be, I sense you intend no harm. And so, you're welcome here, and I hope you feel at home."
"Please, you can hear me can't you? Oh god, you're looking at me. Please!"
The toilet flushes.
I reach out and I touch your face, passing straight through, but I could swear I see you shiver.
She walks back in, and your eyes close before she sees you. She carefully climbs back into bed and quickly falls back asleep.
You open your eyes once more. You see me, don't you?
And then you turn your back.
Your breathing slows.
As does mine.

You always joked you thought this place was haunted, didn't you?

And now I'm the ghost haunting our past...so that you can't haunt me now.

I choke up, hold back more than the couple sobs that escape.

And I will myself to sleep.

In what feels like an instant, I wake up, and see your back to me. Even now I'm always the one to wake up first.

But I don't mind.