Episode 64: The Ghost at Family Gatherings

I don’t mingle.

Not really.

I attend baby showers and weddings.

That’s it.

Even then, it’s strategic.

Shadow positions. Corners. Observing exits.

I arrive in the standard: black trench coat, gloves, surgical mask, dark dress shirt over an anime shirt, cargo pants with chains, and spiked boots.

Immediate reactions are… predictable.

Terry’s husband, Damien, sees me first.

Eyes widen. A bit tense.

“…Is he…?”

Terry chuckles. “…Don’t worry. He’s harmless. Mostly.”

Damien relaxes slightly but still keeps a small distance.

Good. That’s optimal.

Cousin Claire’s husband, Rob, notices me hovering near the edge of the room later.

“…He’s… intimidating,” Rob whispers to Lisa, Claire’s sister-in-law.

“…That’s Beckett,” Lisa replies calmly, sipping her drink.

“…I mean… really intimidating.”

“…It’s mostly the mask and gloves and those boots and chains too. Ignore the anime shirt,” she adds, smirking.

Across the room, I catch Faye’s husband, Bob, glance nervously at me before quickly returning to his conversation.

A few moments later, I move slightly, and he jumps just enough to knock over a champagne flute.

“…My bad,” he mutters, flushing.

I don’t respond.

I never respond.

This is how it works.

I am a ghost.

A presence.

A shadow.

Spooking people without intending to.

Yet despite this…

They like me.

Terry’s husband Damien says: “…There’s something about him.”

“…Quiet,” Terry says. “…And keeps to himself. Safe for the kids lot of them borrow video games from his collection and always returns it back right on time without a scratch or especially ahem bacteria too.”

“…Still spooky,” he mutters.

“…Exactly,” Terry replies.

I watch the twins, Peresphone and Hades, interacting with the guests.

No fuss. Stoic. Mini reflections of their parents.

I sip my frozen lemonade.

Soda is too sweet today.

I make a mental note to bring dark chocolate later.

Cousin Claire approaches briefly, only because someone handed her a plate of food near my spot.

“…Beckett,” she says quietly, smiling.

“…Hello,” I reply softly.

She glances at my mask and trench coat.

“…Still… intimidating.”

“…Consistent,” I answer.

Later, the baby shower begins in earnest.

I float near the edges. Observing. Occasionally helping subtly—handing Terry a napkin, adjusting decorations that were off.

No one notices that it’s me doing it.

That’s intentional.

I catch a few husbands staring again, whispering quietly about the “quiet, mysterious one” or “the scary-looking graphic designer who doesn’t speak.”

I let it slide.

Let them stew.

Diana appears beside me.

“…They’re staring again,” I murmur.

“…They’re impressed,” she says calmly.

“…Impressed by… what?”

“…You. Being you.”

I shrug.

“…It’s effective but honestly i couldn’t be fucking arsed about it.”

She leans slightly against me.

“…And yet you’re distant,” she murmurs.

“…Optimal,” I reply.

The day ends.

No one knows exactly what I did or how much I helped.

But a few whisper quietly as they leave:

“…He’s… good.”

“…And terrifying.”

“…Exactly.”

Diana watches me with amusement as we walk to the car.

“…You’re a menace,” she says.

“…Yes.”

“…And they still like you.”

“…They do.”

She hums softly, resting her hand on my shoulder.

“…Even in the shadows, you belong.”

I don’t respond. I just allow it.

For once, being a ghost is… comfortable.