Saying Goodbye

“Dude. Are you sure this is a good idea?” Seth, my grandson’s roommate, sits in one of the mismatched chairs at their battered kitchen table. He tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t even know if it’ll work.” Jordyn, my grandson, paces the small space. “I just—I need to try, you know?”

“Okay, but just one, right?” Skepticism clouds Seth’s expression, but there’s something else in his tone. Fear?

I’m opposed to the pills, but here on this side of a shimmering veil, I can only watch.

“Yeah, sure. One.” Jordyn examines the pill bottle in his hand.

“Where’d you get it anyway?”

“Guy from work. His wife takes Psilocybin for her depression. He’s always talking about popping one,” Jordyn makes air quotes, “recreationally. Supposedly it’s like magic mushrooms or LSD.”’

Seth holds up a hand and Jordyn tosses him the bottle. Seth reads the label and begins typing on his phone. “Google says it’s a hallucinogen with a bunch of trippy side effects. Euphoria. Changes in perception. Distorted sense of time. Perceived spiritual experiences. That last one’s what you’re after?”

“I guess? We were so close, and I—I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

I may no longer inhabit a physical body, but his words are a knife to my heart. I’d tried to hang on until Jordyn made it to the hospital, but failed. But while we didn’t get to say goodbye, I’ve been with him almost constantly since I passed. He just doesn’t know it.

I’ve seen other spirits lurking around on this side, too. They’re not all friendly.

“So we just down one of these and wait? Light candles and play some woo-woo music? What do you know about communing with the dead or whatever it’s called?”

“Grab the pizza from the fridge and let me think.”

Jordyn opens his computer and begins typing. I hover behind him. His image reflects back at me in the shiny laptop screen. The dark circles under his eyes are a physical manifestation of the tossing and turning I’ve observed the last few nights.

Seth deposits the pizza box on the table. Jordyn eyes it, then looks at his roommate. “I have an idea.”

Jordyn dumps the slices on the table and flips the empty box upside down. “Hand me a marker, will you?”

Seth grabs a black Sharpie from the junk drawer and tosses it to Jordyn. “What are you doing?”

“Making an Ouija board.”

“Is that a thing?”

“I saw it on TikTok.” Jordyn draws the alphabet on the cardboard, writes yes and no in the top corners, and hello and goodbye at the bottom. “Grab a glass from the cabinet. It’ll be the—what’s that thing called? It’s like a pointer. A plan—or plank—”

“A planchette?” Seth raises one eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s it. A planchette.” Jordyn pronounces the unfamiliar word deliberately.

Seth shakes his head but does as he’s asked. Typing on his phone, he watches as Jordyn downs a couple of brown tablets without water. Jordyn offers one to Seth who declines.

“Sit,” Jordyn instructs.

“Dude, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Seth holds up his phone. “Says you should only Ouija when sober. When those pills kick in, you’re gonna be the opposite of sober. You were only supposed to take one.”

“I need to say goodbye to Gramps.”

“Look, I know this is a rough time, but didn’t you do that at the funeral?”

“It’s not the same.” Jordyn’s expression is pinched. “Please, Seth? We’ve been best friends since what? Fifth grade? Just do this for me.”

For a moment, I think Seth will refuse but then, he sits down at the table. “I don’t feel good about this.”

“It’ll be fine.” Jordyn flips the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.

He takes the seat across from Seth and places his fingers on the overturned glass. Seth grimaces but does the same.

They begin pushing the glass around the board, and as they do, the veil between us disintegrates. I join them at the table and give in to an urge to add my ghostly fingers to the planchette. I apply the slightest pressure and the pointer shoots across the board.

“Are you doing that?” Jordyn nods toward the glass.

“No.”

I push the planchette to the lower left-hand corner. Hello.

“Holy shit!” Seth’s eyes widen

“Is someone there?”

I push the glass. Yes.

“Who’s there?”

G-r-a-m-p-s.

“Is the box—is it changing colors?” Jordyn’s tone is distant and wondrous. He raises his fingers and examines them as if he’s never seen them before.

“No, dude. You’re tripping. We should stop.”

“No, man. It’s Gramps.” He drops his hands back to the planchette. Tears fill his eyes. “Gramps, I’m so sorry. I was too late to say goodbye.”

It’s okay. Love you, kid. I’ve always called him “kid.”

Suddenly, a dark mist fills the room, swirling about. The boys don’t react to its heavy, oppressive weight, but my movements grow sluggish.

“Love you, Gramps.” Jordyn chokes on the words as the darkness gathers around him.

Hands cloaked in a black shroud emerge from the mist and join ours on the planchette.

Gramps is gone.

Not…gone... I struggle to manipulate the pointer, but the intruder is too strong. The mist thickens, surrounding Jordyn. I brace myself to fight the darkness, not certain I’m strong enough.

And yet I have to be. Because Jordyn, in his drug-altered state, is susceptible to the evil spirit that seeks to possess him.

I rise from the table and muster all the love I have for the kid. All the love I’ve ever felt, and then I visualize it wrapping around him, layer upon layer. Memory upon memory. Birthdays. Holidays. Walks in the park. Baseball games.

The darkness tugs at me, trying to tear me away. I cling to Jordyn, willing him to feel my presence and take strength from it.

Suddenly, an anguished scream rents the air, and as quickly as it entered, the darkness is gone.

Jordyn sags in his seat, spent.

“What the hell was that?” Seth breathes.

“Something bad.” Jordyn sounds sober again. “But Gramps saved me.”