text: The August heat remained heavy and oppressive well past sunset, but John found himself light on his feet as he waltzed up the drive, and against all odds, he was humming. It was a jaunty tune that wasn’t recognizable to him, but he continued on, discovering the song as he went. The date with Wendy had gone quite well. He hadn’t expected much - he rarely did - but she was such a goofball, comfortable in her own skin, and the way she held his gaze sent his stomach fluttering. Sure, she isn’t the biggest hiker and she couldn’t tell you the difference between her phone camera and a DSLR, but hobbies seemed less important than whatever connection they found tonight. He took out his phone and spent the last few minutes of his walk flipping through the pictures they’d taken by the river. It was hardly necessary, though, as Wendy’s carefree smile was already engraved in his mind. John unlocked his door, walked in, and dropped the keys in a pewter tray nearby. He paused, then reached in to pick up his wedding band. He’d taken it off a few times when he left the house for dates, and quickly slipped it back on where it found a familiar groove. He absently fingered the gold ring as his thoughts settled and he returned to ground level. As he turned over thoughts about the date in his head, they took a turn, and small doubts bubbled up: She really didn’t care for his hobbies. Was she really that charming, or was she just pretty. She laughed at that joke a little too hard. His shoulders sagged, and he reached down to the pewter tray again. There was another ring lying next to the keys, gold and studded with small diamonds. It was his wife’s, and it hadn’t been worn in almost two years. He scooped it up and stared at it cupped in his palm. So...Not too bad, I hope? The voice in his head cut in. “Hmm,” John stirred out of his meditation. “Oh, yeah it was fine. She was fine.” So you hated it? John rocked off of the sofa and made his way to the dimly lit kitchen, “No, I mean we had a good time. Just feels a bit weird, ya know.” He shuffled over to a small ceramic bowl on the counter and dropped her ring in with a clink, watching it settled next to the words “Love you, always.” Well, it might take a few more tries. I’m sure it’ll come back to you soon enough. The light from the kitchen spilled out across the hallway and John followed it to the gallery of pictures hanging on the wall. They were all of him and Beth. Some he’d taken of her with his full kit, attempting to capture all her wonderful facets, and some were just for fun. He settled into the padded chair he’d placed in the hall a few months ago, and began his nightly ritual. He took in deep breaths and looked slowly over the photos hung on the wall. Each frame held a strong memory for him, and he’d lost countless hours reminiscing on the physical projection of his past, letting his mind hop from scene to scene. It sometimes brought him joy to remember what life had been with Beth, but sadness always burrowed its way in before the night was through. Fitting for tonight, John was particularly focused on one of his favorites - His first date with Beth. They took a cheesy selfie, walking out by the river, waffle cones dripping with ice cream and wide grins covering their faces. “I knew even then. You were fun and free,” he said. Oh, I knew you knew. I don’t think you stopped smiling the whole time. Loser. After a beat, the voice settled back into a more serious tone. And, Wendy? What did you guys do tonight? “Uh well we went by the river, grabbed some ice cream from -“ “John!” The voice cut in sharp and very much not in his head. John twisted around awkwardly and stumbled backwards into the wall of pictures, sending some crashing to the floor. He scrambled to sit upright, keeping his wide eyes fixed on the floating visage of Beth. She was glowing and translucent with tendrils of white dancing around her like tall grass. The pale gold dress from their first date hung loose around her, blown by a nonexistent wind. “Beth, you - what,” he smacked his palm into his forehead a few times and looked back upwards. Still there. “You did not,” She yelled down at him, punctuating every word. “You are making this impossible!” “I - I’m not,” he stuttered out. “It just seemed like a good idea. It was hot today and she lives right there,” he shook his head. “Wait, what is happening,” His head swam with dozens of questions: how is this happening, what are you, are you real, but he settled on just one, “Why are you here?” The specter of Beth floated down into a crouch next to John, “I’m here because you need me to be. You’re stuck on me...on us.” She pointed up to the remaining pictures clinging to the wall, her glowing hand like an accusatory beacon. “But how are you here,” he asked, questions spilling out of him now. “And I’m not stuck.” “Not stuck? You’ve been staring at us every day and you’ve gone on the exact same first date three times now.” She took a moment, her furious, luminous eyes softening a bit. “All this,” she gestured up to the gallery. “This was us. It was great and lovely and us. You aren’t going to make that happen again. And this,” she said spinning in a morose circle before settling back to the floor, “this is me now. You won’t let me leave. I need to rest, and you need to live.” John looked over Beth more completely now. Her misty form sprouted wisps of spectral energy that reached out to him, wrapped around the center of his chest, and pulsed with a glowing light alongside his heart. “See,” she said. “You’re holding on, and we’re both trapped here until you decide to let go.” “Well, if I can’t find another you, then why try? That’s all I wanted. Its all I want still.” John’s eyes welled up and a few tears spilled down his cheeks. “It’s not fair what happened.” He curled up beside her, aware of the empty space her ghost left. Her perfect face stirred up knots in his stomach and a strain in his throat. Pain and emptiness pulled at him as he saw his wife, knowing it wasn’t her returned to him. “I didn’t know I was holding you prisoner,” he admitted, whispering now under shaky breaths. She rose above him and strands of delicate thread swam to cover her. They gave off a radiance and fell away to show her in a blue flannel shirt, muddy hiking boots, and an Osprey backpack - a copy from their trip to Banff. John found the photo he took of her among the mountains, scattered among the smashed frames on the floor beside him. “Remember when you said the mountain river was clean enough to drink? A pure source, straight from the ice.” She flashed finger quotes and a broad smile for the last bit. “Yeah,” He smirked, sitting back upright, “and then I puked in your back seat all the way down the mountain.” A little warmer now, John stood and followed her past the wall she floated through and into the kitchen. “Will you listen to me this time, then? The water you’re drinking isn’t safe. You’re letting the memories of our past cloud your mind and your judgement. Are you going to waste away in front of your pictures every night, clutching those rings and holding me prisoner to watch you suffer? I loved you, John, but I would never have wished you to be a slave to grieving over me in death. It’s okay to go on.” John let her talk, and he let the silence follow. He knew she was right. He was wallowing in self-pity and his increasingly baggy shirts let him know he was wasting away by the day. When the quiet stretched on for a few minutes with her form hovering in front of him, he took a leap. “I’m scared.” He let the emotion sink in, “scared of finding someone that means something to me.” “But John, that’s exactly what you need. Someone to -“ “I don’t want to lose you. If I love them, how could I keep you?” “Look at me,” said Beth, rising over him. “This is what I am now. I’m a ghost - not real. I am not Beth. I’m the memory of her, and memories won’t get burned away the moment you find someone else.” The words ran hot and tired from her mouth. Her anguish, for a second, bubbled over into rage, so she forced herself to pause. “I’m sure I can bring you comfort sometimes, but leaning on this every day just sours into pain.” “How can I just move on?” He was standing now, eyes eager for some deliverance and hands held out and passing through her translucent arms. “How do I let you go?” “I’m already gone,” she whispered, “but you won’t be forgetting me. You’re making room for new life to be lived.” She looked over his shoulder into the hall again, addressing the pictures. “These memories you’re keeping are perfect days, and they make you cling to all the bright spots of us. We weren’t perfect, and I know you know that, but you can’t expect our best days to happen on first dates. You have to chase someone who makes you happy and see where they can take you.” Beth’s ghost transformed again, this time wearing a simple t-shirt and sweats. “Keep the memories, but let go of those notions of me and how faultless our love was.” She sailed over to the gallery wall, covering it with her hazy form. “This was me every day. Not dressed up, having adventures and posing for your photoshoots. Not your perfect image of me. This was me when we sang our goofy songs and cooked new dinners and stayed up too late watching true crime. This was me when we were building our real relationship and living . Remember this and what it took to get here, but don’t try to remake our life.” John nodded silently and strode away with purpose. He returned with a plastic box, kneeling to the floor to pick up the broken frames. He picked up each photo, admired it, and placed it gently in the box. He looked to Beth, feeling as though he were betraying her still, but she too was looking at each picture with a soft smile. They recounted the stories behind each, and laughed like they used to. Within an hour, all the pictures and curios in the hall were neatly and purposefully stowed away. Beth motioned for John to rise, “come,” she said. “One last thing.” He followed her dimming spirit to the kitchen where she hovered over the ceramic bowl he’d dropped her ring in. “its time,” she pointed to his own ring and then back to hers. Tears ran down John’s cheeks and pattered onto the counter. He kept his head low, not wanting to look her in the eyes. “It still hurts,” he said. “Why does it still hurt?” Silence hung in the air at that, so he twisted off his own ring and he set it in the bowl beside hers. Both rested nicely beside “Love you, always.” He crinkled some parchment paper around the bowl to protect it and held on tightly with both hands. “It hurts because it meant something,” said Beth. “Now, though, we both need rest.” Her eyes shone with tears. “Can you do this for us?” “Yeah,” he managed. “I’ll always love you.” John padded over to his storage box and placed the ring bowl right at the top. He sealed it up and walked it up to the attic. He returned to an empty room save for a few shards of glass he would have to clean up. For now, though, he just wanted sleep. John shut his eyes, letting and the warm glow of Beth ease him into sleep. ... He awoke in a mess of blankets and pillows in his bed with salt clinging to his cheeks. A flood of sadness, anger, and confused hope battered him as he turned over the visit from Beth last night. I know I know he thought to himself, and himself only. John rolled to a sit and pulled up his phone. The black screen stared back at him for a moment while he decided whether he was ready, but Beth’s voice echoed in his head to let go and he gave way to it. He mouthed as he typed out, “Hey Wendy, had a great time last night. Any plans today?” The minutes passed as he blankly stared at the text he sent, feeling regret wash over. To push the thought of rejection from his mind, he pushed out of bed and got himself ready for the day. He walked through the now empty hallway and smiled at the pictureless wall. The scene stirred him, and he hurried back to his room to grab his camera gear. He finished packing up his camera bag when a ping sounded from his phone, plastering a smile to his face. “No plans,” read the text. “Want to grab lunch?”