Istanbul was fun, really. We got to do all the tourist things and had a pretty good idea of the layout of the whole city after the first couple of days. I got a good amount of space to read and chill when Beej was out, getting his daily dose of freaking people out. I didn't ask him too much about it, but he didn't wait for an invitation. He always had some anecdote about the woman in the store with the colourful lamps who tried to curse him before he got out of there quickly, or one of the corn vendors thinking he was death and babbling apologies for every single bad thing he'd ever done. They were truly funny. It was one of the things I enjoyed listening to, although I didn't let on. As a matter of fact, he had told me some other anecdotes before, mostly about his earlier escapades with other women. I think he was trying to make me jealous, but as I knew he couldn't do that as a married man, I didn't care. Besides, I didn't particularly want to join the queue, since I still didn't feel that way. Eventually he stopped telling me what a casanova he was and just stuck to the prank stories – mostly recent ones, but they'd always remind him of earlier stories, which I listened to, trying not to look too interested. It was kind of nice having someone who really wanted to talk to me, even if it was just because I was there.

He listened to me, too, trying to get me to talk about my past. By the time we thought about leaving our first destination, Beej knew that I was the oldest of three kids and the built-in babysitter, and that I didn't really have any close connections and never had, since I was a snark queen and my social life had been stunted with having to watch my brothers all the time. As soon as he knew that I'd had my own childhood cut short, he got even more affectionate with me. Nothing inappropriate, but something about it felt more genuine. I knew he liked me in a totally platonic sense, but he seemed more…conscious of it, whereas it had seemed more like instinct before.

Other times, we went out together and wandered around, buying barbecued corn from one of the many vendors as a snack (never the one he terrified) and stopping for me to pet just about every cat we came across (unless they skittered away, which most of them did – I'd noticed that most cats ran away from strangers and only scratched if they felt they had to defend themselves). Once we even went on a tour to the sewers, where you were invited to dress up in belly-dancer outfits (don't ask, something to do with the history). I couldn't resist trying on a floaty light blue ensemble with gold trim, my mouth covered by a veil and the top and hareem pants light and pretty. Beej took several photos with my phone, since he didn't have one of his own. When we were back above ground, he grinned and said "You'll totally be sorry you did that, Sassy. I'm going to make sure I see you in that outfit again."

Up to that point, he'd been pretty good about letting me choose my own clothes. Most of them were normal things I wore at home, mostly cardigans if I needed them or shirts, short skirts and sometimes leggings. One day I wore a blue check skirt I'd admired in a store back home but didn't actually own. It went nicely with a little white blouse. And since everything was adjusted to fit my skinnier frame, I actually looked good in them again, although Beej said he wished "you had more of a figure. Don't get me wrong, babes, I think you're cute and all, but you're still way too skinny."

He meant it, too, because he kept trying to get me to eat more. I didn't have any problem with the kebabs and pita bread, to be fair. The meat was so tender and the bread so fluffy. I didn't know what made the kebabs so tender and full of flavour, never any tough sections, but they were. When we were back in our hotel room, he'd pick a movie we could have streamed if we were at home and tried to hand-feed me Turkish Delight, probably hoping that if I was distracted, I'd eat more. I didn't point out that Turkish Delight wasn't even Turkish (well, maybe it was, but no one actually knew exactly where in the Middle East it was invented). Maybe it worked. Maybe. The distraction part worked, because I wasn't sure how much Turkish Delight I had eaten every day, but I wasn't so sure that I'd gained weight. My stomach still looked concave, even after the five days we'd spent there.

As far as streaming movies went, we actually had pretty similar tastes, in spite of my preference for cartoons over movies. Beej was all over anything with horror or uncanny valley vibes, and I liked anything that was satire or cynical, especially if it was making fun of something (Heathers from 1988 was great for that, because it made fun of high school movie tropes and it was a comedy, but not a super sappy romcom, so Beej had all the death and insanity he could ask for). So we compromised, watching both comedies and horror movies, and trying to find movies and TV shows that straddled the line. Luckily, Beej seemed to like comedy second best and I wasn't opposed to horror, so even though our tastes didn't align exactly, they were close enough.

Beej still struggled a little with the human things that he hadn't had to think about as a ghost. Going to the bathroom was pretty easy, considering bladders tended to irritate until they got taken care of, so he didn't need reminders. But he concentrated so much on making me eat that he often forgot he needed to do the same, and he got super pissy when he was hungry. And although I was perfectly happy to go to bed without him while he stayed up (there was only one bed, although he hadn't done anything apart from the occasional wake-up call in the form of a bear hug, which felt more playful than anything), he kept getting all overtired and hyper because he kept forgetting he was supposed to go to sleep and by the time he remembered, it was about five-thirty in the morning and he'd have to survive on three hours, tops. It was getting so annoying for me that I actually started reminding him about eating and sleeping. Usually, I wouldn't have bothered to help him be responsible, but despite the situation being a little weird and us being husband and wife but barely even friends, I didn't want to be stuck with a half-dead former ghost, even if the living part of him wasn't the only thing keeping me alive.

But after five days, Beej suddenly announced "We're leaving tomorrow. I've seen enough. And I know we could just travel around Turkey for a while, but to be honest, I'm not interested in seeing the rest of it. We can move."

I didn't know how I felt about that, but my voice certainly did. "What if I don't wanna move? Or am I supposed to do role-reversal and mumble 'whatever you say, dear' like a husband should do?" In truth, I liked Istanbul, but I wouldn't have wanted to settle down there. A lot of people didn't speak much English and although I spoke a little Spanish, that was it. Certainly not Turkish.

Beej shrugged. "What? Do you want me to drop you back at the apartment that we already gave notice for? I could, but you'll have to be gone within the next month anyway. Cause you agreed to coming with me, and even if you hadn't, I want to keep you. Maybe once we're done we can settle down someplace. But I'm not settling down until I'm finished with travelling – and I know you'd wanna help me decide where. For now, aren't you at all interested in where we're going next?"

All good points. But I still fixed him with a hard stare. "What if I wanted to go off by myself, either way? Would you let me? And if you didn't, isn't that kidnapping?"

Beej shrugged. "If you did want that, I'd probably take you with me anyway. So yeah, let's say it's kidnapping. Or wifenapping. So?"

Okay, I couldn't really make an argument if he was going to admit to it, considering he clearly knew it was a crime and didn't care. Sometimes I wondered exactly how human he really was, considering he still seemed to think he was above all those rules and regulations of the real world.

He must have read my expression, because he added, "I never claimed to be a nice person. But I do have feelings, and you should be glad I won't leave you alone. You need someone to look after you. I may be every insult you've ever thrown at me, but I can tell when someone's not been taken care of. Everything about you says you've never taken care of yourself, and nor has anyone else. That's why you just totally gave up when you thought you were dying. You told me yourself that you didn't have any real friends and your parents just dumped babysitting on you and left it at that. You've neglected yourself, and so has everyone else. Now you're going to let someone take care of you, and who's going to do it better than your own husband?"

"When it was all a green card thing on both sides," I mumbled, but he made a good point, and he was right about it all. I hadn't really taken particularly good care of myself when I first moved out because all I cared about was getting out of the house, and before that, I'd been too busy watching my brothers and trying to scrape through school at the same time to think about looking after myself. Mama hadn't taken much care of me – or my brothers, even though at least they got to be kids who were taken care of, even if I'd been doing most of the parenting.

"I'll prove it," Beej went on. "I've got another location in mind, and I promise you'll like it. It's not far away. When we're there, tell me if you recognize the place."

When we were ready to leave the following day, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and closed my eyes only to open them in a new country where it was only mildly cold, I was shocked to realize I did recognize the ruins.

"You brought me to the Colosseum?"

Beej shrugged. "Yeah. I thought you'd know it. Rome's been on my list for a while, and I looked up places around the ruins when you weren't around. There's a cute little cheapo pasta place quite near here, about two minutes' walk. I told you, Sassy, I want to take care of you, and you still need to gain a little weight. Do you like pasta?"

I scowled at the comment about my weight, but nodded grudgingly. "Yeah. Pasta's good." Especially in the pasta capital of the world. And besides, the fettucine alfredo at Pasta Chef (that was its name in English) was good. Beej tried to get me to order something even heavier, like carbonara or lasagna ragu, but as I pointed out, "This is dairy. It's probably going to make me put on half a pound alone. I'll probably end up a beach ball, especially if you keep trying to feed me up."

Beej shrugged. "I'll stop once you've got something of a figure. Honestly, cuddling you is like cuddling a skeleton right now. And I know skeletons."

I scowled at him and shot back "Well, no one said I wanted you to cuddle me! You can always stop if it's not good enough for you."

Beej scowled back at me and said "Excuse me for wanting you to be healthy! Like it or not, you're my responsibility and if I want you to eat properly, you're sure as hell going to do it." Then, suddenly, he switched off the anger and announced "We're going to get gelato now. And I don't care if you're full, you're going to eat it."

He meant it, too, because he wouldn't even let me get lemon sorbet in a cup. It had to be actual gelato in a waffle cone, so I floundered a bit before choosing boring old chocolate. But he had no problem choosing lemon sorbet for himself and just giving me a little lick so at least I could try what I wanted.

"I don't have to gain weight," he pointed out. "I'm just right. You barely have any figure, Sassy. I want you healthy and sexy." He carefully surveyed me, and added "You are headed that way, anyway. That's how I know I'm doing this right. Your hair and eyes are shinier, your skin's better, and you're still too skinny, but you don't look anorexic anymore."

I rolled my eyes. Healthy, fine. I might look better with a bit of weight on. But sexy? Even if I put on weight, he'd realize I barely had a waist, and virtually no hips. The sexiest part of my body was my boobs, and those were only C-cups, nothing big.

One problem with our relationship really was that Beej had no problem making personal remarks. He didn't seem to realize that they could be hurtful, or even that I disliked them, not because I couldn't take them but because he kept making them in public. It wasn't like I argued that he could stand to lose some weight (he wasn't really "just right" as much as on the heavy side of average). My remarks weren't personal – I only made comments about choices, like "Not trying to be mean here, but that style really puts the 'pony' in ponytail" rather than commenting on how stringy and fine their hair was. But I couldn't help that I could stand to gain weight.

Again, it was mainly because Beej kept saying them where other people could hear. I didn't know how much English the people in Istanbul or Rome spoke, but some of them probably understood what he was saying. I didn't care what people thought of my sharp tongue or remarks when I was the one who made them, but if they were staring at me and thinking I was too thin because they'd heard someone else comment on my weight, that was embarrassing.

Despite the skeleton comment, Beej seemed to want to cuddle me that night. When we went to our one-bedroom en suite in a cute B and started watching, of all things, A Nightmare on Elm Street just because I said I hadn't seen it, he wouldn't let me watch it without one of his usual affectionate displays.

The bed was the main place to watch, so I wanted to recline, but Beej sat upright and pulled me onto his lap so the only comfortable way to watch was to lean against him. I made an attempt to pull away, but he held me fast. "Not a good idea, Sassy. If I let you lie down, you wouldn't be watching the screen, now would you? If you have a problem with it, I could make sure we're not so overdressed…"

I stopped struggling, and he laughed. "You don't want to disrobe just yet, Sassy? Fine. Not tonight. But just to make sure you stay being a good girl and listening, I'll add some precautions." He literally possessed me until the credits rolled. Just to make sure I wouldn't move off his lap. I could talk if I wanted to or even fidget, I just couldn't make any attempt to get out of his grip.

I even tried teasing him about how he had to force people to get any kind of physical contact to see if that would make him let me go, and he just shrugged and said "Yeah. I do. Maybe I'll do it again, too. I like the way it feels when I can control all your moves. Maybe I'll possess you more often." Clearly he knew what I was trying to do and was admitting it shamelessly to prove it wasn't going to work on him.

At that point, I'd twisted around to look at him (I could do that) and asked "Really? You're gonna be one of those really annoying, twisted, overcontrolling spouses that thinks they own everything related to their wife? Maybe I'd prefer death to having that."

Beej had held me tighter and said softly into my ear "Sassy, stop it. We're friends. I happen to like being affectionate with my friends, that's all. And I want to see you at your best. Think of me as your parent if it makes it easier. Sometimes parents make their kids do things they don't wanna do that's good for them." He paused, and added, "And just so you know, I'm doing this for you. I'd probably still have done it if I wasn't alive now, but only for my own benefit. Purely to keep you alive or make you curvier. That's only part of the reason now. Being alive really revs up the emotional response and putting other people first thing. I think you need a few hugs."
"You're still a selfish douche," I muttered.

Beej heard me. "Yes, I am!" he said proudly. "And that's not going to change. But at least I get to be other things." At that point in the movie, Nancy already had her first clue from getting the hat out of her dream at the sleep clinic, and was demanding to know why her mom knew who her assailant was and hadn't bothered to tell her anything.

I think the thing that really got to me about our relationship was the total power imbalance. That, and the fact that while we'd agreed there was nothing romantic about us, Beej was really pushing the boundaries of a platonic relationship. For all his talk about how he just got affectionate with his friends, I didn't believe he would possess someone to stay on his lap if she was just a friend. I got the feeling he was trying to manipulate me, hoping to get closer to me than I wanted. I didn't think he had a romantic bone in his body considering how little he tried to make our relationship romantic (flirty was not the same thing – he was flirty, but not romantic at all), so I figured I knew what he was really after. Something I was not planning on giving him again, no matter how hard he tried to manipulate me into it. The only problem was I didn't feel like I could tell him to back off. I was pretty sure of what he was doing, but it wasn't 100%. I couldn't confront him in case that 5% that said there could be another explanation was right and I was wrong.