I had sex with a ghost

I am a nurse. I was married to my high school sweetheart for 21 years. We had two beautiful children together and we were happy. We were the kind of couple that made people jealous, the type that made other people want to believe in true love. And then he died. <br><br>Now I’d been a widow for two years when this all happened. It was Christmas time. It had snowed for the first time that year, everything was beautiful; the trees, the houses, the roads. The hospital was almost empty, the only patients we had were the ones who couldn’t spend the holidays with their families or had illnesses that couldn’t be treated at home. I was on night shift, the year prior my husband died on Christmas morning and I just couldn’t spend it at home; I found being at work much more comforting. Sometimes, when someone dies, the people they leave behind have to learn how to do things they haven’t done in years by themselves. And so far, I had done alright. It’s just sometimes, when the urge to say something to him was so overwhelming, I would still say it, alone in the dark assuming he was by my side. <br><br>“Can you get me water dear? But make sure it’s cold.”<br><br>“Yes, of course.”<br><br>“Did you get Pampers diapers, not the store brand?”<br><br>“Yes, of course.”<br><br>“Make sure to feeds the kids, don’t be late picking them up from school and don’t forget to remove the roast chicken from the oven, I’ll be home around 5.”<br><br>“Yes, of course.”<br><br>I didn’t realize I was talking to myself because I got responses to every question, and that was all that mattered.<br><br>It was 12:30 when the first code blue rang over the speakers. It’s the sound you never want to hear as an healthcare worker, regardless of where in the facility you are or how far away the code is if you hear it, you rush. And so, did I. When I got to room 304, two men were standing by the defibrillator, a nurse by the patient’s head (giving her oxygen) and a doctor doing compressions. <br><br>“Give one milligram epinephrine,” he yelled.<br><br>I grabbed the medicine from a pink book we call a crash cart and gave it to the doctor. A minute later he asked for another dose, and then another and another. But none of them were working; the patient was still coding. <br><br>I was about to give him the fourth dose when I noticed something odd. Only five people including myself were in the room. I counted them twice to make sure, but I was right. But then who was talking to me? <br><br>“Give one milligram epinephrine.”<br><br>“I did, doctor, but it didn’t work.”<br><br>“Then give her another.”<br><br>“Doctor, we have given her three already, and it hasn’t worked.”<br><br>He looked at me from across the room. He was a tall man, with brown eyes and had short black hair. He didn’t wear a mask, like the rest of us, and I could see the bottom half of his face. He was beautiful, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. However, I had to remind myself I was at work and that we were in the middle of a crisis. So I said: “We need to stop, she had no pulse for 25 minutes. She’s gone.”<br><br>“You need to keep trying, it can’t end like this.”<br><br>We both continued giving her CPR and medicine for half an hour and that part really confused me because if she did indeed die after 25 minutes, then how come her body didn’t start to rot, decompose? But it didn’t, and after a while, she gained consciousness. <br><br>“Thank you,” the doctor said to me before strutting out of the room. I really wanted to see him again because I realized I didn’t get his name. But it was 2 am, so I knew I couldn’t wait up for him. When I went home the next morning, I decided to ask my coworkers about him. But none of them knew who I was talking about. <br><br>“Then show me.” I gave one of the nurses a picture of the man I drew. None of them knew who it was, then one of the elderly nurses asked to see the picture again. <br><br>“He looks just like Dr. Pierce.” she said. <br><br>“Oh, is he new?” I asked. <br><br>“Oh, no honey, he isn’t with us any more, he died almost 3 years ago.”<br><br>I felt dumb for not believing the ghost stories people told me from time to time, but you know, when you see dead bodies everyday it doesn’t really faze you. But this…this was different. After all, it was a man, not an empty corpse, and he was beautiful.<br><br>I couldn’t wait to go back to work the next night, that’s how badly I wanted to see him again. However, nothing happened. He didn’t show up. I was disappointed, and I felt as if everything I had experienced the night before was just a vivid dream my mind had created because it felt like I needed something exciting to happen in my mundane life. But I didn’t give up. I kept looking for him, and the looking continued until I couldn’t take it anymore. <br><br>It was Christmas Eve. I was going to go home and be alone for two days celebrating a holiday my husband and I shared for over two decades. So, I decided to stay at the hospital and work instead. I took another double shift.<br><br>“You know, you are a widow for two years now.” Said my coworker as she handed me a cup of coffee. “You don’t have to work yourself to death. You can have fun.”<br><br>“I am, trust me.” I answered.<br><br>We took a smoking break together, and when we got back I decided to walk around the empty wards. When I reached the nursery I saw him. And this time, he wasn’t wearing a doctor’s coat. This time he had on a black sweater and jeans and God, he looked good in them. He was standing by one of the windows just staring at the lights on one of the houses across the street. And then he looked at me…<br><br>“I’m sorry I didn’t come the last two nights, I had to take care of something. But I missed you.” He said.<br><br>“How did you know my name?”<br><br>“I know everything about you.”<br><br>“Is that good?”<br><br>“It’s wonderful,” he said, while walking towards me. “I was high, I couldn’t drive, that’s why I couldn’t make it to work, and that’s why I’m dead.” he said, as he looked into my eyes and placed his lips onto mine.<br><br>I didn’t know how, but I could cope with the death better because I wasn’t alone anymore.<br><br>The rest of the night we talked. I learned everything about him too. I knew he loved rock and roll music, and I knew about his favorite bands. I knew what his favorite food was, and I knew how he took his coffee. But most importantly, I found myself smiling a lot, like I did when my husband was alive.<br><br>“You know sometimes I wonder, if you spend too much time with the dead then your mind just creates companions, out of either boredom or loneliness,” he said. <br><br>“I mean, you could be an illusion, but I couldn’t care less. I like to talk to you.” I answered.<br><br>He smiled when I said it and instantly I couldn’t help myself but want him badly.<br><br>I pulled him by his sweater into one of the empty rooms. The bed was empty, and the sheets were clean and fresh. We both fell onto it, and as he started to take my scrubs off he said.<br><br>“You know, I think I created you too.”<br><br>“What?”<br><br>Just then, he fucked me as I hadn’t been in a very long time.<br><br>I got home the next morning with big smile on my face. I hadn’t felt that way for years. I glanced at the roaster in the oven, but it was empty. I checked the diapers under the crib, it was Pampers. I walked into my bedroom and that big smile was still on my face. I got into bed, still with the smile, and closed my eyes ready to sleep the entire day.<br><br>The next morning I woke up, still grinning. But when I got out of bed, to my surprise, it was January 4th, not December 26th. I had slept through Christmas. Still, that smile didn’t leave my face; it was gone though when I saw his obituary on my alarm clock. He died of an overdose two years prior to the date on it. I didn’t need to read anymore, I already knew how he died. <br><br>“Did you know sometimes when you spend too much time alone with the dead your mind just creates companions, out of either boredom or loneliness,” it said.