The meal continues without further interruption. Graham and Maya discover that they share many common interests. They don’t even notice me leaving the table to bring out the dessert.

I’ve just picked up the tray when the lights flutter erratically and the sound of shattering glass slices through the air. I slam the tray down and bolt to the living room.

Graham and Maya are standing near the fireplace, staring at the pencil sketch that used to hang above the mantelpiece, looking perplexed.

“What happened? Are you guys OK?”

“We’re fine, but your drawing isn’t,” replies Graham.

Taryn’s sketch lies on the floor, the frame ripped apart. Fragments of glass are scattered around the fireplace.

This past week I’d had to shush Biscuit off the mantelpiece when she kept patting the frame with her paw.

“Naughty Biscuit! I told you no. Now look what you’ve done,” I scold, my eyes flitting everywhere in an effort to spot her.

“It wasn’t Biscuit. She was sitting on my lap when this fell down,” Graham says.

I swing around, unconvinced. Maya’s words bring me to a grinding halt.

“Miss Taryn got too enthusiastic. She’s pleased to see you’re not alone.”

Without thinking, I laugh out loud and blab, “Geeze, thanks, Taryn. You couldn’t just break a plate or your ashtray?”

“It was probably a gust of wind,” Graham pipes in. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“Ghosts aren’t things,” Maya says faintly.  “They may no longer be human in body like us, but it’s their spirit or soul that stays behind after death.”

“I’ve read up about ghosts and all things paranormal after Claire told me about her supposed encounter,” Graham says lazily. “Bring out the Ouija board and let’s hold a séance if you’re so determined to convert me.”

“No!” Maya replies. “Opening a portal to the spirit world is dangerous. You have no idea what could come through it.”

“Listen to yourself, Maya. That’s crazy talk,” says Graham.

“Then tell me how I know you’re wearing Spiderman undies, Graham?”

I’d been watching them as though I was watching a tennis match and I double over laughing at Maya’s question.

“And didn’t you have a muscle spasm when you sat down? Miss Taryn gave you a little wedgie,” Maya says, giggling.

“Seriously, G — Spiderman? Are you hoping to catch an unsuspecting female in your web?” I ask, while battling to keep a straight face.

Graham’s face turns pink as he scans the room.

“Impossible. Lucky guess,” he mutters, when the lights start flickering rapidly.

We’re all standing near the fireplace when, in the center of our circle, a peculiar white mist appears, twirling slowly upward from the floor. It becomes less misty with each rotation, until before us stands Taryn. Not a solid figure, but still an image of her physical form.

She looks around, smiling at us.

“Sorry about the wedgie, G-Man. I wanted to get your attention,” she says, winking at Graham.

Her voice sounds as though it’s coming from somewhere far away.

“Ta-Ta-Ta … Taryn,” he stutters.

“Who else calls you G-Man?” she answers, touching his arm briefly before turning to Maya.

“I can never thank you enough, Maya, for helping me make contact with Claire. Thank you,” she says, while Maya nods and smiles.

I’m smiling, yet the tears are flowing down my cheeks and my mouth is opening and closing like a shell-shocked fish. I never thought I’d see her again or hear her voice or feel her touch.

“Claire! The best friend anyone could ask for. I never got to say goodbye — I’m so sorry,” she says, before kissing me on the cheek. “Remember, X marks the spot. You have to find out how I died. Nick is the answer.”

I’m smiling and nodding and wiping away my tears when the lights flicker again fleetingly. Then  her image evaporates.

“So, G, still believe ghosts don’t exist? Because I sure as hell wouldn’t want you referring to me as ‘the thing’ when I check up on you after I’ve died.” I say, still smiling, and hug myself.

***

Tell us what you think? Do you believe Graham will still deny the existence of the spirit world after this encounter with Taryn’s ghost? Why/Why not?