In Lisa Loud's 29th year, Lynn Loud, the patriarch of the Loud family, passed away surrounded by friends and family. At least, per the obituary that ran three days later in The Royal Woods Gazette. The circumstances surrounding his death were not wholly unlike those reported in the paper, but the account therein was somewhat misleading. Lisa remembered hearing an old joke once that had JFK and Nitka Khrushchev engaging in a foot race. The punch line was how the Soviet media covered it. In a race of world leaders, Comrade Khrushchev came in second, but President Kennedy came second to last. You see, the media did not exactly lie, as technically JFK did come second to last, but it misrepresented the facts. Lynn Loud Sr.'s obituary did as well, for it was not a lie that he was surrounded by friends and family when he passed. He did not go gently in bed, holding his wife's hand after a long illness. He did not waste away over a matter of weeks, months, or even years.
He suffered a heart attack in the dining room of Lynn's Table, the restaurant he owned on Slade Avenue. He was literally surrounded by friends and family - including Lily, who served as head manager - because they were trying to save his life.
Lisa was mercifully not there when it happened, but Lily gave her the details later on. Over the previous three days, Dad had been sweating and fatigued. It was the middle of summer and the window A/C units that cooled 1216 Franklin during the hotter months hardly chilled the air, so every summer he and Mom were hot and miserable. No one thought twice about his haggard appearance and damp brow. The day before, he was perpetually winded and had to stop and rest multiple times. Lily worked side by side with him and was as close to him as their mother, and she saw his condition up close and personal. She was mildly concerned but didn't think it was serious. From talking to her, Lisa believed that the idea of Dad dying never crossed her mind. He was Dad. Dads are forever. They were always there and always would be.
Then one day they're not.
It happens every time. Lily did not take this into consideration, but that was understandable, as Lisa herself, despite her genius, was not immune to that childlike view of her parents. Her father had always been there, and while they knew that one day he, like everything else, would pass away, she couldn't fathom it actually happening. Her parents, and her siblings as were, were an immutable part of the landscape which constituted her life, like mountains or hills. You may look at Mount Everest and know that one day, it will be no more, but the concept of it not being there is one that isn't pressing. It's so alien, so distant. Lisa felt that way about her father, and when she got the call that he had had a heart attack, she was certain that he would pull through. Of course he would. His survival was a foregone conclusion. Even the darkest storm clouds part and let the light of the sun through sooner or later.
Only that didn't happen. In the fifteen minutes it took Lisa to drive from the college where she taught to the hospital, Dad died.
She would never forget Mom hugging her and tearfully giving her the news, nor would she forget the numb shock she felt for hours afterward. Her mind had fully processed the truth seconds after her ears telegraphed the message, but it somehow didn't feel real, She hadn't seen him for herself and that lack of closure plagued her. Until she saw him, she would not be able to accept it.
At the wake, as she stared down into his coffin, it hit her that this was, indeed, real, and that her father was gone. She would never see him again, never talk to him, never hear his voice or hug him hello and goodbye. She and her whole family had been stumbling around in a daze ever since that day, but seeing him, the scab came off and the wounds opened. That, Lisa knew, was the first step to healing, but it was unpleasant nevertheless. Mom sobbed so hard she shook and had to be supported by Lori and Leni, and Lana and Lola held hands and shed silent tears that glistened like diamonds in the light. Lincoln and Lucy stood over the casket with their heads bowed and Luna stared into space with red rimmed eyes. Lily wept into her hand and Luan did her best to comfort her, absently rubbing her back and fighting against her own tears.
For her part, Lisa didn't cry. She didn't shiver or shake or hug herself like a woman dying in the Arctic, she just stood there, looking down at her father's upturned face. His complexion was ruddy with health and he looked like he would open his eyes at any moment, crack a grin, and laugh at what a funny prank he had pulled on them. I sure had you going, didn't I? Lisa had studied mortuary science a bit as a girl and knew that bodies often looked as though they were "only sleeping" but this...this was simply inconceivable. This was no pallid facsimile of life, it was the real thing. He had to be alive.
Even though she knew he wasn't, she reached out and touched his hand...just to be sure.
Cold.
Lisa had worked with liquid nitrogen and other freezing agents over the years, and she had never felt a cold quite like this. It was like touching a marble block in the middle of a January freeze. It was deep, total...unnatural.
A chill went through her, and now, she did shudder.
That night, alone in her apartment, she sat at the kitchen table and gazed absently out the window. Below was a courtyard trimmed with flowers and hedges. The gazebo was lost in darkness, denoted only by the dim outline of its timber frame. How are you holding up? a voice asked inside her head. She felt rather than heard it.
"Decent," she said out loud.
You sure about that? Phantasma asked.
Many years ago - so many, in fact, that Lisa had lost count - Phantasma, a spirit from beyond the rim of death, came into Lisa's body. She hesitated to use the word "possessed" as Phantasma was more of a passenger than a driver, but she supposed it sufficed in a pinch. Phantasma had become as much a part of Lisa as her own ego or id, Lisa often referred to Phantasm as her other half, and that was an apt way to look at it, as their personalities had melded into one. They knew each other completely because, in a way, they were the other. Phantasma knew, therefore, everything that Lisa was feeling and thinking, and Lisa knew everything Phantasma was feeling and thinking, Phantasma was just as hurt by Dad's death as Lisa herself was, for he was like her father too. As upset as she was over that, however, she was even more upset by the effect it was having on Lisa and her family. Lisa's siblings were Phantasma's as well now, and neither one of them liked to see their loved ones in pain.
Back to Phantasma's question. She had asked if Lisa was alright and Lisa's reply was decent, which was not a lie. She couldn't lie to Phantasma if she wanted to. Phantasma knew the truth before she even asked, and the truth was that Lisa had yet to fully metabolize her father's death. It was more real to her now than it had been, but it didn't feel final yet. She assumed that she wouldn't feel a sense of closure until after the funeral and said as much. Or rather, thought as much.
Probably, Phantasma said. Everyone grieves differently.
That was just it, though, Lisa wasn't grieving. She was upset, yes, perhaps even "distirbed" by the whole thing, but she didn't feel like she was properly mourning. There was a dark weight on her chest that made drawing a deep breath difficult, but that was it. She hadn't cried, she hadn't broken down, she had barely acknowledged to herself that her father was dead; sometimes, she would completely forget that he was gone, and find herself thinking of him as though he were still alive.
Was there something wrong with her?
Unlike most everyone else she knew, Lisa was not emotional. She experienced the full array of human emotions, from sadness to joy to anger, but she did not feel them quite as sharply as other people seemed to. Her emotions were blunted, existing in stark black and white whereas everyone else's were in full Technicolor. As best she could recall, she had always been like this, and she was content with it.
But this was different. Her father was dead, someone she loved dearly even if she didn't wear that emotion proudly on her sleeve. She should feel something more than what she did. Her chest should be aching and her eyes leaking; she should be smiling through her tears at all the fond memories she had of her father. She should be human, for God's sake.
Everyone's different, Lise, Phantasma said soberly. Don't beat yourself up because you're not grieving in the exact same way as someone else. No one does. Your brother and sisters are all doing it differently. ''
Lisa thought back to the wake. Each one of her siblings had displayed their grief in their own way, hadn't they? Mom wept inconsolably but Lincoln and Luan didn't. Luna stared, Lucy looked mildly shaken but otherwise normal.
Even so, Lisa couldn't help being ashamed of her own muted response. Her father was one of the kindest and most loving individuals she had ever known and he deserved to be mourned. What sort of heartless monster doesn't t -
C'mon, Lise, Phantasma begged, don't. How about some music to get your mind off it?
A tight grimace that was supposed to be a smile touched Lisa's lips."And what shall we listen to?"
That question was largely unnecessary. She already knew what Phantasma wanted to hear.
How about our 80s CD?
After death, Lisa had learned, spirits do not remember many of the details of their former lives. They cannot recall what their names were, who they loved, or any of their most sacred memories. Phantasma remembered in broad strokes that she was a teenager in the eighties (though she allowed that maybe it was the very early nineties) and that she lived somewhere warm with palm trees. She assumed California, though it could have been Florida or Arizona. Despite having lived inside of Lisa for some twenty years, Phantasma was still something of a throwback to the period in which she had lived. It was as though she were in perpetual stasis. Lisa expected her to grow, change, and mature over time, the way a normal person would, but she hadn't. That led Lisa to believe that spirits are caught in some type of limbo and remain, more or less, the same person they were when they died, with no meaningful growth. Phantasma had experienced two decades of trials, tribulations, and life lessons through Lisa, and while she learned from those, she was still essentially a teenage girl.
And to her, music made everything better.
But only eighties music.
Lisa got up, went to the stereo in the living room, and popped in a CD titled 80s POP PARTY. Tears for Fear blared through the speakers and Phantasma relaxed. Ahhh, that's better.
"I prefer INXS," Lisa said, "but yes, this will do."
That night, she laid awake into the small hours of the morning, her chest throbbing with some inexplicable and unnamed emotion. She tried to sort it out and was unable to, though she thought it was partly guilt. Guilt for not being more outspokenly upset about Dad's passing, guilt for not crying, guilt for not being crushed.
You probably will be at the funeral, Phantasma said.
And not for the first time, she was right.
At the funeral, with her father's open casket seeming to float on a sea of flowers, it all became real to her, too real. She bowed her head and cried, memories flooding back in a massive wave: Her father tucking her in and reading her bedtime stories from science textbooks, her father teaching her to ride a bike, teaching her to drive, her father baking every Christmas and speaking as if Santa Claus were real even though she knew that he wasn't. She loved him dearly but it didn't occur to her how much until she finally realized she would never see him again. Beside her in the pew, Lucy stared down at her white hands and worried a white handkerchief, her cheeks stained with tears. She slowly, almost haltingly, she laid her hand on Lisa's leg, and Lisa gratefully took it. She was not the sort of person who needed physical affection, but right now, she was glad to have it.
When the priest was finished, the pallbearers carried the casket out to a waiting hearse. The driver, a tall man with a wrinkled face and longish white hair on the sides of his bald head, watched the procession with an almost quizzical look, one eye seeming to bulge from its socket. He held a silver sphere in one hand and and absently turned it over, reminding Lisa of a Bond villain stroking his beloved cat. Two midgets flanked him on either side, each dressed in a monk's robe with a hood that cast their faces in shadows. Is this a funeral or a freak show? Phantasma asked, and a snort was shocked from Lisa's chest.
I'm not sure, Lisa replied.
The pallbearers slid the casket carefully into the hearse and the tall man came around to slam the door closed. He and his minions climbed into the car and began the long, slow journey to the cemetery. Lisa rode with Lincoln and Lynn; Lincoln drove and Lynn sat in the passenger seat, her wet eyes pointed out the window and her lips a tight, white slash across her sallow face. None of them spoke as they made their way to the graveyard, but it was clear from their faces that all of them were feeling the same deep pain.
Thankfully, the graveside service was short. Lori and Leni stood on either side of Mom in case her knees gave out, but she managed to stand on her own. She did not cry throughout. Her face was twisted in misery but dry; she looked wrung out, as though all her tears had been shed, leaving her an empty, hollow husk. That disturbed Lisa and she found herself wishing Mom would sob as she had done in the church. This staring, broken silence was so much worse; at least if she cried, Lisa would know she was okay.
After the funeral, everyone gathered at 1216 Franklin Avenue. The house was so warm and full of love during Lisa's childhood that it had soaked into the very timbers, lending the place a perpetual glow and comfort that made it feel like home whenever Lisa was there. Today, it was dimmer, colder, just another house, nothing less, but nothing more either. Various friends and family members had brought snacks and trays of food, but no one felt much like eating - aside from Lynn and Lana, but neither one of them ate very much, which served as a stark testament to just how out of sorts they were, Lisa did her best to mingle and offer support to her mother and siblings, but she secretly wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. The walls felt like they were closing in on her and the air grew warmer and more uncomfortable as time went on. She could hardly draw a breath, and the urge to be alone came over her with a vengeance.
Despite that, she forced herself to stay; her family needed her right now, and though she was often inattentive, lost in the maze and corridors of her own life, they had her full and undivided attention.
The party - if party it could be called - gradually wound down, and everyone left in dribs and drabs until only the Louds remained. Lisa sat on the couch with Lynn, Luna, Leni, and Luan, her hands between her knees and her shoulders slumped as if under a great weight. They spoke in monosyllables, each one still numb with the day's trauma, and after a while, they went their separate ways. Before leaving, Lisa looked in on her mother; she and Lori sat at the kitchen table with steaming cups of coffee before them. Mom's face was doughy and her eyes puffy, but she wasn't crying. Lisa honestly didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She had experience with many, many things, but dealing with grief wasn't one of them. "How are you?" Lisa asked and went to her.
"I'm okay," Mom croaked and took Lisa's hand. "How are you?"
"Alright," Lisa said. "I was just about to leave...unless you need me to stay." She added the last part out of guilt. She felt bad about leaving. It was as though she were abandoning her mother and running from the cold reality of losing her father.
Fortunately, Lori and Leni were both staying in town for the time being so that Mom wasn't alone. If they weren't, Lisa would do it. Right now, though, she just wanted to be by herself for a while.
"I'm okay," Mom said. She pulled Lisa into a hug and Lisa rubbed her back.
"I'll come over tomorrow after work," Lisa said.
"Okay, honey," Mom said, "I love you."
"I love you too."
At home, Lisa changed into a pair of pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt and sat at the desk in her cluttered office. It was a spare bedroom that she had converted into a work station; with its closet and bay windows, it didn't feel very much like an office but it served its role functionally enough. She had a stack of papers to grade and before tomorrow, and though she could usually handle such a load in less than an hour, tonight she worked slowly. You could finish them in the morning, Phantasma offered.
Lisa's first class wasn't until 9am, and she was usually up between 5:30 and six; she subscribed to the Ben Franklin school of thought that retiring early and then rising early as well improved one's health, wisdom, and financial situation. She did not like to put anything off, however, and cherished her slow, lazy mornings sipping coffee in front of the morning news before the sun even came up. She had a feeling, however, that sleep would elude her tonight, and that she was likely in for a miserable morning. "No, I'll do it now," she said. She sat back in the chair and it creaked under her weight. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath.
You should get some sleep, Phantasma said. You'll feel better in the morning.
"Perhaps," Lisa allowed. She scanned her desk and sighed. "I might. One thing I do want is a shower."
I'll close my eyes.
Lisa smiled despite herself. "It'd be more helpful if you washed my back."
Gag me with a spoon, no.
Lisa laughed.
As expected, that night was not easy for Lisa. Though she was tired, she couldn't wind down and drop off, so she laid in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling, occasionally flopping left or right and heaving great sighs of frustration. Every hour or so, she would take out her phone and absently scroll through social media. She saw pics from the funeral on Lori's Instagram and posts of love and support from Mom's friends and extended family on Facebook. Lily had uploaded a picture with her daughter. The girl's father was not in the picture and Lily lived with Mom and Dad because she couldn't afford a place on her own. She had long worked as the general manager of Lynn's Table because Dad wasn't very good at finances and business management. He had approached Lisa about the job, knowing that she wouldn't likely take it, but she demurred, recommending Lily instead.
For the first fourteen years of her life, Lily's roommate was Lisa, and being in such close proximity together, and also close in age, they had become close. Lily looked up to Lisa and had adopted many of Lisa's interests and characteristics. She excelled at math and science and made a fantastic businesswoman. Dad wasn't able to pay Lily very much, but he gave her as much as he could. . Lily would probably be much better off if she found another position, perhaps in a large company where she could move up the ladder, but she was loyal to Dad and stayed on. Now that he was gone, would she continue?
Lisa, and indeed everyone else in the family, had been so focused on Dad that she had not given any thought toward the restaurant and what would become of it. Opening it was Dad's dream, and though she supported him, Mom had never had much to do with it. She was content in her career as a medical secretary and left the operation of Lynn's Table to Dad. Lisa did not think that Mom would be inclined to take it over, or even able if she were inclined. One has ro have both a mind and a passion for a business in order to succeed at it. Lisa would not do very well with it if it were to fall into her lap because her mind and her heart were not geared toward the running of a restaurant. Perhaps that was just her. If something did not interest her, she had neither the desire nor the aptitude for it. Even in her own field, there were schools of science that did not particularly grab her. Sometimes they eventually did, but if they didn't, they remained largely foregin to her and she was alright with that. A single person, even a prodigy who was able to build nuclear reactors before she was ten, cannot do everything, nor should they. Before Phantasm, Lisa looked down on those who did not share her knowledge, but after, influenced by her friend's caring and good-natured personality, she came to realize that we are all "special" in our own way, as it were.
That might sound cloying, but it was essentially true. It takes all kinds of people with all kinds of skill sets to make the world go 'round. The janitor is just as important in the grand scheme of things as the scentisit, for if no one ever cleaned anything up, we'd stew in our own waste until we caught sick and died. If no one manned the register at McDonald's, the company would go bankrupt. If no one tilled the land, none of us would eat. Every one of us is a cell in the body politik, and together we form the vital organs that power said body. We are in this together and each play an important role.
Having said said, not everyone can perform the functions of the heart and lungs. All of that to say: We're not all good at the same things. Not all of us can keep a restaurant afloat. Dad was the animating spirit of Lynn's table and without him, Lisa simply did not know what would become of it. Far be it from her to be sentimental toward a building, but the idea of letting Dad's dream snuff out like a candle in the wind disturbed her. Driving by it and seeing a CLOSED sign in the window, or seeing it under new management, would sting, she already knew it. She associated that structure with her father, and now and forevermore, it would be his, no one else's.
If it comes to it, we might have to take over the restaurant, Lisa thought.
Phantasma yawned. What?
Her voice was thick with sleep.
I said that we may have to assume de facto ownership of the restaurant, if not outright ownership.
...where did that come from?
It would not be untrue to say that Lisa and Phantasma shared a mind. Their brain was like a power outlet into which both of them plugged. They were each capable of independence, but they usually stayed tethered. Lisa's thoughts never came as a shock to Phantasma, so Lisa assumed that her friend had been asleep even before she began to think of the restaurant.
Yes, spirits are capable of sleeping. Strange, Lisa knew.
I was thinking about what would become of Dad's restaurant. I'd hate to see it close.
I doubt that will happen, Phantasma said. Lily will probably take it over. Which will be great for her because she can make more money for her and Emily .
Indeed, however, I'm not 100 percent confident that she can so easily step into the role. She does well with the finances but is she capable of playing the cordial host? Part of the restaurant's appeal is - was - Dad's hospitality.
Are you capable of being a cordial host?
Lisa had no immediate response for that.
To be a host, you have to be social and outgoing. You're neither of those things. You grumble a lot and don't like being bothered. Sorry to be so blunt, but you'd crash and burn. Lynn's Table would be closed in a week.
Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.
Sorry, but it's true. Lily will do fine.
Lisa sighed. Maybe, but still, what if she doesn't want to? What if she decides that she wants to do something else with her life? She could hardly be blamed.
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Phantasma said. Npw how about we get some sleep?
Now there's something I hadn't thought of.
No need to be sarcastic, Phantasma said. How about I tell you a bedtime story?
Lisa snorted. I think I'd rather count sheep. You go ahead and sleep. I'll be there soon.
Only she wasn't. Lisa didnt' know when she finally dropped off but the last time she remembered seeing on the clock was 3:01am. The alarm went off at 5, and she snoozed it a half dozen times, finally getting out of bed just past six. She was groggy and her eyes ached, but she had gone to work in worse shape, so she was confident that she would make it through the day. Throwing the covers off, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, sat up, and stretched, wincing at the popping in her back. She wasn't even thirty yet but some days she could swear she was in her fifties. She assumed that this is how someone of that age always felt, and thus was not looking forward to getting older. Perhaps she would one day begin work on a serum to reverse the effects of time. If the cartoons her siblings watched growing up was anything to go by, however, she would likely turn herself into a baby that Lori and the others would have to take care of. Lisa didn't like the idea of growing older but she positively detested the idea of growing younger. She hated being a child. She had fond memories, yes, but she lacked autonomy, which was insufferable. Growing up, she was a grown woman in a child's body but could not make her own choices in life. She would hate to go back to that.
She brewed herself a pot of coffee and drank it as she finished grading the papers from the night before. She left at 8:30 and spent the day in class. That afternoon, she stopped by Mom's house as promised and checked in on her. Mom was in the kitchen with Lori, Emily on her lap. Lily, she said, was at the restaurant. "She's taking it over," Mom said.
Well, that was a relief.
"I hope she doesn't burn herself out," Lisa said.
"It's hard on her," Mom admitted, "but it's been hard on all of us."
Yes, it had been, and over the next few weeks, things only got harder. Lily worked an insane amount of hours at the restaurant. Her workload didn't realistically increase by much, but without Dad's steadying presence, she felt lost and behind. She ran around like a chicken with her head cut off and dropped into bed every night, exhausted. Like Lisa, she associated this place with Dad and she couldn't let it close or even falter; she had so many happy memories of him here and could feel his presence everywhere, as though he were all around her, watching and supporting her.
One day two weeks after she took the place over, Emily's father Dave came in. Tall, handsome, and black with a pencil line mustache and rippling muscles, he wore a mailman uniform and carried a sack full of mail that he routinely stole from. If you live in Royal Woods and that Christmas card with ten bucks inside that your grandmother sent you never showed up, talk to Dave. Sometimes, when he was feeling extra lazy, he would even dump his sack into a storm drain. The sewers beneath Royal Woods are filled with lost mail and small packages that Dave didn't feel like delivering.
God, he was such a piece of shit, what did she ever see in him?
Walking up to the counter, Dave nodded. "Still flipping burgers for a living, I see."
Lily pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Dave had been ordered by the court to pay child support but didn't, leaving her and Emily to fend for themselves. Lily's sisters urged her to have him arrested but she didn't want to do that to Emily. Every so often, he decided to play daddy for a few hours and Emily loved it; Lily couldn't take that away from her. It would be cruel.
"I got a burger you can flip," Dave said. He reached into his sack, took out an envelope, and ripped it open. He removed a twenty dollar bill and slapped it on the counter. "Double bacon with extra cheese. You can keep the change...since you're a single mom and all." He threw back his head and laughed.
Lily only smiled. "How kind of you."
"Shut up and make my burger, ho."
Rolling her eyes, Lily went to the order window and called out, "Bacon double. Extra cheese."
"Speaking of being a single mom," Dave said, "how's life these days?"
"Just fine," Lily said.
"Kinda sucks that you're a bitch and can't keep a man."
"I manage," Lily said.
Dave snorted. "Living at home."
Lily's face flushed red but she didn't say anything. When his burger was ready, she put it in a to-go box and handed it to him. "Smell ya later," he said and walked away.
When he wasn't looking, Lily flipped him off.
Lisa happened to be there that day, sitting at a table and preparing a lecture for her four'o'clock class over a plate of French fries. She half heard the conversation but Phantasma had apparently heard it all. What a jerk. Why didn't she go off on him?
"She wishes to keep the peace for Emily's sake," Lisa said. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she shoved a fry into her mouth.
That's bullshit, he's not doing that.
"I know," Lisa said, "but he's not as mature as Lily."
Screw being mature, she needs to cut him down.
"Indeed," Lisa said.
Lily wasn't the only one having a rough go of it. Luan had been working part time as a cook at the restaurant for the past several years while doing birthday parties and comedy shows on the side. When he was alive, Dad would handle the grill during the day until the evening cook came in. He did this because he loved cooking but also because he wanted to save money on staffing costs. When he died, Luan instantly picked up the slack because there was no one else to do it. Like Lily, she ran herself ragged, and every time Lisa saw her, she looked more tired than she had the last time. She eventually had to give up weekend engagements either to work or to have some relaxation and her relationship with Benny suffered. They rarely got to see each other and from what Mom had said, they weren't "doing too good."
That sucks, Phantasma said to Lisa one day, he's cute and nice, it'd be a shame if she let him go. They need a little spice in their love life. That'll tide them over.
Indeed.
Lucy did not work at the restaurant but after losing Dad, her interest in all things gothic suffered greatly. She continued to write and post gothic fan fiction and to draw gothic art (imagine that, an adult in their thirties writing fan fiction!) but she had no passion for the darkness. "It's hard to be into it after seeing it up close," she told Lisa once, and then shuddered. For her, being a goth was an identity, an expression of who she was and what she valued. It was no mere passing phase, it was Lucy, but having lost one of the people she loved, being "morbid" as she put it no longer felt right. She confided in Lynn, who then told Lisa that she was thinking of leaving the gothic scene for good, even to the point of stopping her art and fan fictions. She did both of those now, she said, just to fill time, and because she had been doing them for so long that she didn't know what else to do.
At first, Lisa assumed that she needed time to adjust. Of course she would be out of sorts so soon after Dad died. To be quite honest, Lisa was going through the motions of her day as well. You don't bounce immediately back from such a traumatizing event. Being depressed after losing a loved one is perfectly natural and to be expected. For the first week after the funeral, Lisa found herself unable to enjoy many of the things she loved. She tried to read a Robert A. Heinlein novel but couldn't concentrate long enough to get through a single passage. Also, she simply didn't feel like it. She was restless and inattentive, and that showed through even in her teaching. She gradually improved as she better adjusted to the reality of Dad's death, Lucy would do the same.
At least, that's what she thought. As time wore on, however, Lucy didn't snap out of it. She seemed always tense and fidgety. Understanding psychology the way she did, Lisa realized that her sister was going through a sort of identity crisis, of the existential sort. She was deeply unhappy and Lisa felt for her. Perhaps she was more sentimental than usual after losing Dad, but she didn't want to see Lucy suffer. She didn't want to see any of her siblings suffering, and several of them were doing exactly that. Mom as well, though a month after the funeral, she seemed to have accepted it. She no longer cried or laid in bed all day, in fact, she was almost back to her old self, though there was a little hint of sadness in her that was understandable given the circumstances.
She wanted to do something for Lucy, Luan, and Lily, but she hadn't the faintest idea what. One day, she was sitting in the overstuffed armchair in her living room and staring into the fire, mind working as she turned the problem over and over again. She was so caught up in trying to sus it out that she completely forgot Phantasma's presence until the spirit spoke. You're forgetting something, she said.
"What's that?" Lisa asked.
My middle name is literally help. Phantasma Help Loud. See? Help Loud. It's right there in the title. Helping Louds is what I do best.
Lisa chuckled. Indeed, on several occasions in the past, Phantasma had helped Lisa's sisters (and Lincoln) with their problems. It always turned out well in the end, so she was quite adept at helping Louds.
"Alright," Lisa said aloud, "if you want to help, you have my blessing. Just please don't make things worse. Especially with Lily."
I won't, Phantasma said. Was it just Lisa, or was there a mischievous glint in the ghost's voice? "I mean it," Lisa said.
So do I.
Ha, Lisa had the feeling that that was a lie, but truth be told, Dave did deserve a good old fashion tongue lashing.
Perhaps even a physical one as well.
The next day, Lisa and Phantasm parted ways in the morning before Lisa left for the college In order to travel through the ether, as it were, Phantasm needed to syphon some of Lisa's energy, leaving her groggy and muddled. Phantasma was a being of light and energy, like a brain wave, and could travel through electrical lines, but quickly lost strength when she left them. She told Lisa once that she suspected she would lose consciousness if she went without a power source for too long and effectively cease to exist. Every cold draft, she surmised, marked the spot where a ghost had fallen by the wayside, not dead but not alive. If you were to walk through that cold spot, you might stir the ghost back to life. This, of course, was not fact but a mere hypothesis, but it chilled Lisa nevertheless.
Phantasma disincorporated from Lisa with an unpleasant sensation of popping, and she was off. Lisa went to work as normal, but the whole day, she wondered after her friend and what trouble she was getting up to.
Nothing too serious.
Lisa hoped.
Lily stood at the register and smiled across the counter to an old man .He paid for his meal and left, and as soon as he was gone, she fought to catch her breath. One of the cooks had called out and she was dashing back and forth between the prep table and the register. She was sweaty, felt greasy, and was sure that if she didn't stop soon she would pass out. She started to turn away but stopped when Dave came through the door. He was dressed in his little mailman uniform and carrying a sack of mail that he'd probably toss into a dumpster instead of deliver. Today, he wasn't alone, his girlfriend Moniqua was with him. A tall black woman with straight blonde hair and eyelashes so long they crossed county lines, Moniqua was just as trashy as Dave, and looked like a man in drag, if she was honest.
Oh great.
This was the last thing she needed right now.
She felt a strange tingle in her right ear and brushed it, expecting to find a bug or fly.
There was nothing.
At once, she started to feel spacy and dizzy, like she was going to pass out. Uh-oh, here it comes. The room started to spin and Lily's sight grew dim. Her head suddenly felt full, and she swore she could feel phantom fingers skimming across her brain, looking for the perfect place to enter. She had felt this once before, years ago when she was younger, and had lost a chunk of time that she could not account for.
Was it happening again?
Before she could answer that, she spiraled into darkness, sinking like a stone to the bottom of a pond.
Her eyes shimmered blue and Phantasma took her place.
Dave and Moniqua walked up to the counter. "Smells like single mother in here," Dave said and sniffed the air. He made a show of looking around and then locked eyes with Lily. "Oh, that's why.
"You're just smelling your upper lip from all that cock you've been sucking."
Dave blinked in surprise. "I hope you can satisfy those men unlike the way you couldn't satisfy me. Does a micropenis count as a disability? If so, you should retire and live on welfare."
Moniqua did a sassy head bob. "Excuse me? That's my man you're talking to."
"Don't worry, Ru Paul, you can have him. He's a piece of shit who won't take care of his daughter. If you didn't have testicles, you might find that out."
Moniqua opened her mouth but nothing came out. Shock was stamped on her face and Phantasma felt a rush of pride. Turning back to Dave, she asked, "How does it feel being a deadbeat dad? Emily would be better off if you just died. At least the post office might pay us something. You're literally worth more to her in the ground than you are walking around. Isn't that sad, Dace? Isn't that really fucking sad?"
For a moment, Dave only gaped at her...then his face screwed up like he had just sucked a lemon. He whipped around and ran off, sobbing. Moniqua shot Phantasma a dirty look and went after him. "Don't forget the tweezers," Phantasma called after her.
Hahaha, that was epic.
She dusted her hands - Lily's hands, really - and nodded to herself for a job well done.
Off to the next victim.
Err, person who needed help.
As luck would have it, she didn't have to go far. Luan's shift was over and Phantasma hitched a ride as she passed by on her way out the door. For some reason, Luan was easier to take than Lily, and in less than a second, she was in control.
She had a vague idea of what she wanted to do but first she needed Luan to be clean and presentable, so she hopped in Luan's car and drove the six blocks to Luan's apartment. Phantasma was a little rusty, crusty, and dusty behind the wheel and screamed like a maniac down Main Street. She blew three stop signs, ran a red light, and did 65 through a school zone. Old women had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit and she nearly mowed down a crossing guard in an orange vest - sorry, didn't see you there. At Luan's, she jumped the curb and almost smashed through someone's front window. She killed the engine and spilled out onto the ground like a melted ice cream cone, her body shaking. I'm alive.
Wouldn't it suck to die twice? What would even happen to her? Sure, she was in Luan's body, but would anything happen to her? Would she be dragged kicking and screaming into the light this time instead of becoming a ghost? Would her spirit become entwined with Luan's, creating a fusion of them? That would be...interesting. Could they still live with Lisa? If so, that wouldn't be so bad. Phantasma loved Luan's jokes. She was a laugh riot.
Getting to her feet, she shook herself off like a dog and went inside. She made a B-line for the shower, shedding clothes as she went. In the bathroom, she stopped to admire Luan's reflection. Phantasma was strictly dickly but she could appreciate a fine female form, and Luan had one smokin' hot bod. Small but shapely breasts, curves out the wazoo, and a stomach so flat and taut that you could bounce a quarter off of it.
For maybe the millionth time, Phantasma wondered what her body had looked like in life. She tried to remember but everything was so hazy. She was pretty sure she had a figure like Luan's, though she seemed to recall her boobs being bigger. Not that that matters, of course. A lot of women worried over the size of their breasts but really, she had never known a man who'd kick a woman out of bed for not being well-endowed. A lot of guys liked big tits but they weren't picky when a woman with smaller breasts was wet, ready, and willing. And if they did, well, that was their loss. You can't be upset at someone for having preferences. She herself had them and so, too, did everyone else. Being mad at a man for liking X instead of Y would be hypocritical because she thought B was a loooot better than A. For instance, she liked big dicks, I'm talking honking huge, the kind that make you feel like you're going to rip down the center like a piece of paper. She wouldn't turn away a small dick, though. Dicks were great no matter their size. She had been fortunate to not come across a legit micropenis (that she remembered) but even then she wouldn't laugh at the guy or anything. She'd just fake it and never call him again.
Was that mean? Maybe so. But she could be a total bitch and crack jokes at him, so it wasn't all that bad.
What kind of dick did Benny have? Big? Small? Thin? Thick? She was going to find out soon, but the suspense was starting to eat at her. Whatever he had, Luan was evidently satisfied with it since they had been together for years. Up until Lynn Sr. died and she started working herself to death, her face lit up every time she talked about Benny. You can fake an orgasm, you can even fake an entire relationship, but you can't fake that. She was happy with Benny and that was why Phantasma was doing this - she couldn't bear the thought of seeing Luan lose something so beautiful and precious to her.
Plus, free dick.
That was always a good incentive.
Giddy with anticipation, Phantasma crossed to the shower, turned it on, and adjusted the temperature. She climbed in and let the water pound on her back, relaxing Luan's tense muscles. She spun in a slow circle and washed her breasts with a loofah. At one point in time, Phantasma would have balked at the idea of handling another woman's body in such a way, but after so many years living inside of another woman, she didn't think twice about it. She washed all of Luan's most important parts, then got out and toweled off. She wrapped the towel around her and went to the sink, where she brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash, and then brushed her hair. She considered putting make up on but decided against it; Luan looked just fine without it.
Some girls do, you know, and other girls have to put on so much that if you slapped them, their faces flew off. Phantasma couldn't remember which type she had been in life. She thought that she used make but not much, then again that was mostly speculation on her part. Content with her appearance, she went into the bedroom to find something to wear. She was at the closet when her eyes fell on a small, leatherbound book sitting on the nightstand. She scrunched her lips curiously and picked it up. Gold writing on the front read DIARY.
Huh.
Luan's diary.
Reading it would be sort of messed up, but so was possessing someone, she supposed. Sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing her long, smooth legs, she opened it and skimmed through its contents.
What she found was revealing.
Benny had a strange kink, one that Phantasma had never heard of before.
He liked clowns.
Every so often, he would ask Luan to put on face paint, a big red nose, and a rainbow colored afro wig, then absolutely crush her in bed. Luan enjoyed it too, but since Dad died, she hadn't been in the headspace to do it. That was where some of hers and Benny's problems were coming from, she speculated in the pages of her diary.
Oooo, I know what I'm going to do.
First, she called Benny and invited him over for a "talk" then she hunted down Luan's clown stuff, finding it in the closet. She took the face paint into the bathroom and carefully applied it, first white, then streaks of blue and red. She looked like an idiot but if it invoked the reaction from Benny that Luan's diary said it would, it would all be worth it in the end. Next, she slipped into Benny's favorite black lingerie and put on the nose and 'fro. She set candles around the room and lit them, their flickering light .low and romantic. She went into the living room, unlocked the door, and returned to the bedroom, lying in bed in the sexiest pose she could muster. A few minutes later, a knock came at the door.
"Come in!" she called. "It's open!"
The door opened and closed, and footsteps came into the living room. "Where are you?" Benny called.
"Bedroom!"
When Benny appeared in the doorway, he blinked and did a double take. Luan, dressed as a sexy clown, posed on the bed, her legs slightly bent and her face resting in her upturned palm. The dark patches of her hard nipples visible through the sheer fabric of her gown. She simpered at him, and the candlelight twinkled in her eyes, lending her a life and vitality that he hadn't seen from her since even before her father died. She reached up and squeezed her nose. "Beep, beep," she said seductively.
Coming alive, Benny hurriedly kicked out of his shoes and wrenched his pants down, his boner springing out tall and proud. Luan stared at it with a pleased little smile as though she had never seen it before, and though it didn't make any sense, he could have sworn that he saw a glimmer of blue light in her eyes. As soon as Benny was free of his pants, he bounded over to the bed and jumped on with a bounce. Luan laughed as he swept her into his arms and started to attack her throat with hungry kisses. He didn't know what it was or why, but every time she dressed up like this, he lost control of himself. There was nothing sexier on earth that the girl he loved in face paint and nothing but a smile...and floppy red shoes. He rolled her onto her back, slipped his hand up her dress, and pulled down her panties, whipping them over her ankle and throwing them away. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close; his tip just happened to be positioned just dso that when she did that he sank into her warm, wet passage. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she let out a husky moan. "God, I've been waiting for that," she said.
Benny pinned her hands over her head and slammed into her. Her damp walls stuck to his pumping shaft like wet velvet and her muscles clamped around him. She wrapped her legs around him, dug her heels into his butt, and lifted up to meet his thrusts. She moaned and mewled like an animal, and when she kissed him, her tongue pillaged the inside of his mouth. She rolled him onto his back, settled onto his dick, and started to ride him with such vigor that the bed shook and threatened to come apart. She splayed her hands on his chest, leaned over, and rocked her hips. All he could do was hold onto her hips for dear life and thrust up into her pussy. "Cum in me," she whispered, "cum in your clown goddess."
He had no choice but to oblige. He threw his head back, gave one final jerk, and filled Luan's womb with his burning hot sperm. The orgasm that hit Phantasma was so powerful that it forced her out of Luan's body entirely. Luan lay limp on Benny, slumped liked she was dead. Benny stroked her hair and kissed her face. When she came to, she was groggy and disoriented, but a hazy smile crept across her lips and she snuggled up to him.
Another satisfied customer, Phantasma thought.
Last but not least…
Lucy.
Across town, Lucy was having lunch with her boyfriend Constatine, the goth who only left the house if it was raining or if he needed milk. A tall man with long black hair and a pale face, he listened blankly as Lucy explained her waning interest in goth subculture. "I think maybe it's time to grow up," she said, "and stop cosplaying as The Cure."
Constantine's brow darkened. "Do you think this is a costume?" He nodded to his long black coat. "This is a way of life."
"Not for me," Lucy said, "not anymore."
"What happened to you?" he asked. "You used to be cool."
Lucy sighed. She knew exactly what had happened to her but she didn't say so out loud. It was losing Dad. Ever since it happened, she just didn't feel that same spark of passion for -
Her ear tingled and she brushed it.
Where was she again? Oh, right, she just wasn't feeling it anymore. She wished she did, she just couldn't find that spark. If there was some way to rekindle it…
All at once, Lucy's head started to get swimmy and she felt like she was going to faint. Shepressed her hand to her fevered forehead and almost fell out of her chair. Her vision rapidly dimmed and before she knew it, she was out like a light.
Phantasma took her place.
"...get back into it," Constantine was saying.
"I know a way to get me back into it," Phantasm said with Lucy's voice.
"What is it?" Constantine asked.
Phantasma grinned.
Ha;f an hour later, Constantine was tied to the bed, his arms above him in a V, and he was naked save for a little black speedo that clung to his bulge. The room was dark and the bed surrounded by skulls, candles, and chalances that looked like they might be filled with blood. A camera in the corner filmed as Phantasma-Lucy straddled him, knees caging his hips. She was dressed in lacy black bra and panties and held a dagger in her hands. "Oh, Great Satan, oh, goat with a thousand young, I offer this sacrifice unto you." She pressed the tip of the dagger to Consatine's chest and a pinprick of rich red blood welled out. She leaned over, rolled her eyes up to him, and slowly licked it off. The coppery taste of pennies filled her mouth and it took everything she had not to gag. Phantasma was a ghost, not a vampire, and had never once wanted to taste human blood. She was only doing it for the video. Goths love that sort of thing.
And that's what this was all about, getting goths to watch. Being a famous goth porn star would totally get Lucy back into the dark, ooky, spooky fold. How could it not? She'd be famous and making money. Those two things are fantastic incentives.
Phantasma sat the dagger aside and pressed her hands to Constantine's chest. His boner prodded her through her panties and she squirmed against it, the sensation of it nestling against her pussy lips making her heartbeat speed up. "Oh, great and terrible Lucifer, I offer myself unto thee in this…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say. What sounded gothy? "Black and sinful wedding of two moral bodies."
Yeah, that's the stuff. She had a little goth in her after all.
And she was about to have a lot more.
She pushed her panties aside to reveal her pink, lust-swollen lips and pulled down Constatine's underwear. His dick sprang out and for the second time that day, her core pinched with anticipation. She lifted herself up, rubbed her leaking middle across the head, and then brought herself down onto it in one smooth motion. Constantine threw his head back and let out a soft moan. The feeling of it inside of her made Phantasma hot from head to toe, and when she swirled her hips, it brushed against her G-Spot. She ran her hands over his muscular chest, touching and feeling his abs and pecs, and started to thrust faster, setting a frantic rhythm. She raked her nails down his chest and his eyelids fluttered. She lifted until he was almost out, then sank onto him, taking his cock to her limit.
Soon, she untied him and got on her hands and knees. "Fuck my ass for Satan," she said over her shoulder. "Spit in the eye of God."
Grabbing her hips, he pushed his dick against her butt hole, making her knees weak. It took some squeezing, but he got it, and when she felt his girth in her rear, her entire body clenched. She bit her bottom lip and clawed at the sheets as he started to drill her butt.
They ended with classic missionary. Constantine was on top with his hands around her throat, just absolutely fucking destroying her little morbid twat. With her air supply cut off, her head started to swim and her face tingled. She felt like she was going to pass out; she couldn't tell whether she loved or hated it.
He yanked out and shot ribbons of cum all over her tits and stomach, and the way he shuddered and moaned sent her into the stratosphere. This orgasm was much more powerful than the one she had had as Luan. It was so powerful, in fact, that she literally passed out. She took the opportunity to leave Lucy's body, crackling with energy. Sex always did that to her. A good fucking could power her for three or four hours. Something about the friction and fransference of physical, mental, and emotional energy. She wasn't sure but that's what she thought.
She entered Lisa's body as Lisa was just getting home from work. "Ah, you're back," Lisa said. "How was it?"
I got fucked twice and made Dave cry, Phantasma said, it was freaking awesome.
Lisa laughed. "Something told me you would do that to Dave. I can't say he didn't deserve it, however."
Fuck him.
"Do you think your actions today will have a long term impact?" Lisa asked.
Totally, Phantasma said.
And she was right. Benny and Luan got married six months later, Dave tucked his tail between his legs and left Lily alone (except to finally pay child support), and Lucy's video became one of the most beloved goth themed homemade porns since Sluts of Satan Part 10. Phantasma couldn't bring Lynn back but she could, and would, do whatever it took to cheer her family up and to make them happy.
A lot of things had changed over the years, but that…
...that never would.