The squealing door and bell chime announced my arrival as I pushed the tavern door open, and the low buzz of a rock song greeted the falling darkness behind me. The bar was quiet, with a few regulars sitting on barstools and a handful of small groups sitting at round tables over plates of nachos. I took a seat at the bar and the bartender glided over to take my order.
“A double Smirnoff on the rocks please.”
His eyes narrowed and flicked to the clock, but a moment later I had a cool glass in my hand and a warmth in my belly. As I scanned over the appetizers, the heat spread through my body and my tension slid right off. I signalled for another, and before I knew it, the two glasses before me were empty save for the half-melted ice. Leaving a green bill on the table, I walked toward the bathrooms and pointedly ignored the many sets of eyes watching me and the barely muffled whispers.
“Is he seriously going into the bathroom?”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRNmLjNpAAL
“Everyone knows it's haunted—”15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQyCKmR9hd6
“— college kid died in there years ago.”
I rounded the corner and out of sight and took a quick swig from the silver flask in my coat pocket. Putting my hand on the white and red ‘Out of Order’ sign, I pushed the swinging bathroom door open and locked it behind me before taking a seat on the cold toilet lid. The bathroom was shockingly clean, though a fine layer of dust coated the floor, broken only by the familiar trail of fresh and aged footprints—each one matching the soles of my shoes.
A disembodied voice spoke in front of me, but the space remained empty. “Having a tough week? It’s only Tuesday.”
“Leave off, I don’t need a lecture.”
“Hey, hey, no judgment here; I know the feeling all too well.”
“I expect that you do, considering—” I bit my tongue.
“Right. You don’t have to remind me.”
“I know, I’m sorry. But I wonder if people will start coming in here again. You know, after seeing me coming in.”
“That’s presumptuous. Not to toot my own horn, but dying in a bathroom tends to stick around in people’s memory. I’m shocked I didn’t get the bar shut down, or the liquor license revoked.”
“And I’m being presumptuous? This is a college town—it's a great source of revenue.”
“Is that your new nickname these days? ‘A great source of revenue?’”
“Ouch, I thought you said no judgment. And, there are other patrons, which you would know if you ever left this bathroom. Are you trying to push your only friend away?”
“Sometimes, I think I am.” There was a long beat. “Look, as happy as I am to see you—and I use the word ‘see’ loosely since I don’t technically have eyes—but I’m worried about how often you’re here. I was only a year older than you when I —”
“It’s none of your business what I do with my life.” I say, rising to my feet and closing my hand around the flask in my pocket. “It just takes the edge off. The pressure of school, the constant feeling that I’m a failure, my social life…it's all too much sometimes. This is the only place I can relax and forget about it for a few hours.”
“Learn from my mistakes. I know how hard it can be, and how tempting it is to simply stop feeling for a few minutes, but that isn’t healthy. You need someone to talk to. Someone more…corporeal than I. I am your only friend, and I don’t know if that counts since I don’t even have a body. But if you’re struggling this much, don’t you think it’s time to see a professional? I assure you that flask isn’t your friend.”
“And you think I have two hundred bucks to tell a therapist I'm sad?”
“Are you getting your booze for free? Didn’t think so. Trust me, it's an expensive habit.”
“And why do you care so much? Why don’t you just move on? Surely, you don’t want to be trapped in this bathroom for the rest of time.”
“What, go to the afterlife? I could’ve gone ages ago.”
“Then why haven’t you? I have to imagine it's better than being stuck in the bathroom of the dive bar you died in, talking to someone you don’t know about problems that have nothing to do with you.”
“You think this bathroom is what keeps reminding me of my drinking problem? That I’m ashamed about it and can’t move on? No. I stay because I see you walking in my footsteps. Because without someone to talk to, you’ll fill your time with more drink. Because if I leave, I fear you’ll join me in this bathroom as another ghost.”
The familiar weight of the flask turned into a lead weight in my pocket, and the urge to gulp its contents faded. Slowly. For a long moment, I just stood there, the ghost's words swirling around me. He wasn’t confined by the walls of this bathroom; he was imprisoned by the choices he had made in life. And now, he was reliving those choices vicariously through me.
With great effort, I pulled the flask from my pocket and stared at it, then, with a deep breath and trembling hands, I unscrewed the cap. But instead of drinking, I tipped it into the sink and watched as the amber liquid swirled around and down the drain.
The voice spoke again, “The door is there. All you have to do is walk through.”
I walked to the door, creating new footprints in the dust, and paused with my hand on the latch.
Turning, I looked back at the empty stall. “But what will happen to you?”
“I will wait. After all, I have nothing but time. And then I will move on”
“And what if I never see you again?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but for your sake, I hope you don’t.”
I smiled. “Yeah…me too.”
I pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, leaving the bathroom, the flask, and the ghost behind. I thanked the bartender, and for the last time, the doorbell chimed as I walked outside.
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