Absentia

It had started with little things. Doors slamming, lights flickering, things falling off tables. That sort of stuff.

The first time it happened, Poppy had been sitting at her desk, staring at the essay lit up on her laptop. She had a mug of tea on the coaster beside the keyboard. She had been staring at her essay for a full minute and decided that she wanted to drink her tea before it got too cold. She reached for her mug, but her hand just brushed against air. That was odd. She allowed her eyes to wander from her laptop and saw the mug tipped at a worrying angle, almost spilling its contents all over the keyboard. Poppy panicked and grabbed the mug, snatching it away from her laptop and pressing it against her chest. Her hands shook as she took a sip from the mug and quickly opened up Google Drive so she could back up her work.

The second time, Poppy had been brushing her teeth before going to bed. She rinsed the toothbrush and put it back on the edge of the sink. Then she left the bathroom and went to her bedroom, nestling underneath her duvet. Poppy was just starting to fall asleep when she heard a loud thump coming from the bathroom. Adrenaline spiked through her and she threw the covers off, running towards the noise. The lights were blinding and Poppy found herself staring at her mirror with the words LIGHTS OFF written on it, as if someone had fogged it up with their breath and then drawn on it with their finger.

The third time, Poppy had been washing her dishes. She noticed a tiny chip on the rim of one of her plates. Her mum always complained about chipped plates at home. She said that they were breeding grounds for bacteria. But Poppy was a broke student and couldn’t afford to replace a plate that she could technically still eat off. She sighed and put the chipped plate on the drying rack. As she turned away from the sink, she heard the heart-stopping sound of shattering china. She whirled around and, sure enough, saw the plate that she had just put back in pieces on the hard lino floor. Poppy quickly checked the rest of the plates. They were all fine. It was just the chipped one that had been broken. Great. Now she had to replace it.

* * *

She was pretty sure that she was just going mad. Almost certain, actually. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time that she had been overworked by ruthless university professors. Maybe she had accidentally tipped the mug herself? Maybe she had written LIGHTS OFF on the mirror herself as a reminder and then just forgotten about it? Maybe she had broken the plate herself and not realised it?

Poppy would have been willing to accept that she was just extremely tired and not functioning properly. That would have been the easy answer. So, that’s what Poppy went with for about a week.

Until she saw the old man standing in her kitchen, that is.

She almost felt her heart leaping out of her chest when she saw him in there.

‘What the hell? What are you doing in my flat?!’

‘Your flat? Your flat?!’

‘Well, I’m paying rent for this place, so it bloody better be my flat!’

‘Listen here, young lady! I’ve lived here for the past hundred years! I would take good care of it, if I were you!’

‘If you’ve lived here for the past hundred years, then why was this place let out?’ Poppy crossed her arms over her chest, huffing slightly.

The old man gave her a tired stare. Then he stuck his arm through the wall.

‘I- what?!’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Kids these days…’

‘Are you… are you a ghost?!’

The man sighed an exasperated sigh.

‘I. Am. A. Spirit.’

‘And you died here?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Why haven’t you – you know – moved on?’

The ghost gave her a condescending stare and walked to the window. He rested his arms on the windowsill and stared out onto the street. He didn’t say anything else after that.

‘Fine. You’re probably not even real, anyway.’ Poppy grabbed her jacket and her bag. ‘I have a class. See you later, figment of my imagination.’

* * *

He was still there when Poppy got back. And he was still staring out of the window. Poppy rolled her eyes and rested her bag on the kitchen table. She started fiddling with mugs and the kettle and made a cup of tea. Then she leant against the doorframe, just observing him.

They were silent for a while. It was eerie, but almost calming at the same time. Poppy didn’t know if this man was really a ghost or the result of a lot of stress and anxiety, but she kind of appreciated the company either way. And he didn’t seem that harmful.

Just majorly pissed off.

Oh, boy.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ His voice made her jump and she almost dropped her mug.

‘Jeez.’ Poppy hissed as she quickly dabbed at the spilled tea on her jumper.

‘Language.’ He retorted.

‘Jeez isn’t a swear word, granddad.’

‘It was in my day.’

‘Yeah, I bet.’

‘Hmph.’

The apartment fell into silence again.

‘Why do you keep staring out of that window?’ Poppy finally asked.

‘None of your concern.’

‘I mean, you are living with me now, so it is kind of my concern.’

The man considered this for a moment.

‘This is the apartment that I died in. My granddaughter walks by here sometimes to check up on the place.’

‘Oh.’

‘John Grant.’

‘…Sorry?’

‘My name. It’s John Grant.’

‘Oh. Right. Poppy Peterson.’

‘Nice to meet you, Poppy Peterson.’

* * *

Months had passed. John still “lived” in the apartment with Poppy. He had already taught her how to properly soak a dish, how to bleach a sink and how to work the mains. He had been quite the handyman back in his day. Poppy made sure to take better care of the apartment and John left her alone. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but it worked for them.

But that arrangement soon changed in October.

Poppy had been working by her window and just happened to look out at the right time. She peeked out from between the curtains and saw a young woman staring up at the apartment from the pavement below.

‘John,’ Poppy hissed, urgently. ‘There’s someone staring up at the flat.’

He appeared out of nowhere and rushed to the window. He looked down and froze. Poppy couldn’t see what was happening, but she noticed that his hands were trembling a bit.

‘Who is she?’ Poppy asked him.

‘My granddaughter.’ He suddenly gasped and stepped away from the gap in the curtains. ‘Damn! I think she saw me.'

‘Oh.’

He breathed deeply and placed his hand on his chest.

‘Isn’t that good, though? Isn’t that what you want?’

He kept trying to level out his breath. He didn’t say anything else.

* * *

‘I died when she was ten.’ John informed Poppy when she was sitting in the kitchen a few weeks later. ‘Imagine that. Going to your grandpa’s funeral at the age of ten.’

‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’ Poppy sympathised. She didn’t really know what else to say.

‘I keep looking out for her because I want to make sure she turned out alright.’

‘Hmm. That makes sense. She seemed ok when she came by that other week, though.’

‘I’m not sure. I didn’t really get a good look at her.’

‘I mean, she looked a bit sad, but who wouldn’t when they were walking past their dead grandfather’s place?’

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘You want to see her again, don’t you?’

‘…Yes.’

Poppy sighed.

‘Well, I don’t think we can really do anything to bring her here. But I’ll definitely let you know if I see her again.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

* * *

And see her again Poppy did. Almost exactly one month from the first sighting. Poppy saw her wandering up the pavement with her hands dug deep in her tan trench coat, head pointed firmly down at her feet. John just happened to be in the same room at the time and came over as soon as he saw Poppy’s gaze shift.

John tried to hide himself behind the curtain, just like he did the last time.

‘Why don’t you let her see you?’

‘I’ll scare her half to death.’

‘She saw you last time anyway.’

John crossed his arms and huffed as he realised that Poppy was right.

‘I think she’ll be ok, granddad.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. Then he slowly moved away from the curtain.

Poppy tried her best to watch the granddaughter’s reaction while still staying mostly hidden. She didn’t want to ruin this for either of them. She could see John’s granddaughter staring up at the window. Her eyes lit up as she saw John walk into view and she covered her mouth with her hands in shock. There were tears in her eyes and she reached an arm out in John’s direction. Slowly, nervously, John did the same. His granddaughter smiled and seemed to sob lightly.

Small fragments of light started to float around John. He had finally seen his granddaughter again. He didn’t have any reason to stay anymore. Poppy stared in a stunned silence as he slowly turned to her with a twinkle in his eye. She couldn’t hear what he was saying as he disappeared, but he seemed to be mouthing one last thing to her.

‘Thank you.’