Bob
went hunting in his thick, greasy wallet. He produced a ten pound note. Two lines each.
Then they were sitting on the floor with their backs to the bed, sniffing.
'So,' said Nathan. 'Have you ever actually seen a ghost?'
'Not as such.'
'What does that mean, not as such?'
'It means, I've seen their effects.'
'Effects like what?'
'Anomalies in haunted houses. Electrical disturbances. Cold spots.
Poltergeist phenomena.'
'No way.'
'Yes way.'
'As in, you've seen a ghost that throws stuff around?'
'People used to think it was that. But we're pretty convinced it's some kind of geothermic reaction - like an intense, very localized electrical field. It sort of charges things up - and yeah, throws stuff around.'
'No shit?'
'No shit. A professor I know in Copenhagen, he built a poltergeist machine. Honest to God. He built a room inside a kind of electromagnetic chamber. He filled it with everyday stuff-chairs, furniture, newspapers, mugs. Then he runs a charge through it, a really powerful charge. And guess what? He reproduces poltergeist phenomena, right there in the lab: things levitate, fly across the room.
All that.'
'You've seen it?'
'Seen it.'
'What's it like?'
'Creepy as shit.'
Nathan was enthusiastic. 'So you think that's what it is, the supernatural?
Just natural phenomena.'
'Pretty much, yeah. Ninety-nine per cent of it.'
'And the other per cent?'
'It's the other per cent that really interests me. Probably a good ninety-nine per cent of that last one per cent is explicable. We just don't know how yet. But the remaining one per cent of the one per cent?'
He pinched his nostrils and closed his eyes.
'Jesus. Do you have a cigarette?'
Nathan could feel each cell of his body vibrating.
After hoovering the last of the cocaine, then wetting their fingertips with spit and rubbing the bitter residue into their gums, Nathan refilled the wine glasses with ice and Bombay Sapphire.
Bob sat rigid on the bed, holding his glass by the stem.
'Fucking hell,' he said.
Nathan told him, 'I stopped taking this stuff two years ago. Can you imagine?'
Bob said he couldn't imagine.
They went quiet.
The quality of the light seemed to change.
Bob said, 'What's wrong?'
'Nothing.'
'Something's wrong. You've got something on your mind.'
Nathan thought about it.
Eventually, he said, 'So, yeah. I've got this problem.'
'What problem?'
'I was going to finish it with Sara.'
'Like, dump her?'
'That's a very strong word for it. We've kind of, y'know. Drifted apart and whatever. Somebody has to say something. One of us.'
'Won't it cause a scene?'
'Not tonight. I'm too wired. Are you wired?'
'Yes.'
'Me too.'
'So, if not tonight - when?'
'Tomorrow. Over lunch, a late breakfast.'
'Why?'
'She's having an affair.'
'With?'
'Her boss.'
'Okay. So where's the problem?'
'Second thoughts. Am I doing the right thing? Should I be, like, fighting for her?'
'If you loved her, you would.'
'Would I?'
'Yeah. Nathan, mate. The decision's already made. This is just anxiety talking.'
'And booze.'
'And booze.'
'And coke.'
'And that.' Bob leaned over and, with an index finger, he tapped Nathan's head. 'But in here, you know what to do. You've already decided.'
'You reckon?'
'I reckon.'
'I'm not sure I do.'
Bob seemed to be thinking very hard. He said, 'Do you love her?'
'I don't think so. But when I think of us not being together any more, it makes me a bit sad.'
'That's natural. But that's not love, it's regret. It's the end of love.'
'The end of love,' said Nathan, awed by the concept. 'Blimey. The end of love.'
Bob slapped his thigh and stood. He wavered a bit. His knees clicked.
He said, 'Let's consult the oracle!'
Nathan blinked up at him.
Bob said, 'Go to the bathroom. Bring back a plastic lid, like from a can of deodorant or something. Air freshener. Whatever.'
Excited - and too wired to question what he'd been asked -- Nathan hurried down the corridor to the bathroom, which had long since passed its best days. The shower and bath and sink were limescaled. The sinks wanted plugs. The taps dripped. Nathan rooted in the cupboards and found a can of shaving foam, from which he removed the plastic lid.
Back in the guest room, Bob was writing letters of the alphabet on sequential pages of a pocket notebook. Finally, he ripped the pages from the notebook, one by one, and lay them on the back of the mirror -- forming a rough circle. He placed the word YES at twelve o'clock, followed by the letters A through to M. At six o'clock, he placed the word NO, followed by the letters N through Z.
Nathan looked at the makeshift Ouija board and laughed.
'Come on. Look at the state of it. There's not even a pointer.'
'Planchette,' said Bob, and nodded at the plastic lid in Nathan's hand.
'You're joking.'
'Give it a try.'
Nathan giggled as they sat cross-legged before the board. Bob placed the planchette in the centre of it.
Nathan said, 'What do I do?'
