Caroline agreed to meet him for dinner. Ben agonized over drinks and appetizers, trying to figure out how to broach the subject with her.
Sure, she and his brother joked that his house was haunted, but no one wanted to be the one to think their own was.
The words bounced around inside his mouth like a secret that couldn't be kept. If he told her, then he wouldn't be alone in this situation. Caroline was shooting him pointed looks all dinner, but had been kind enough so far not to mention his squirming around in his seat.
She had taken a bite of her chicken when he blurted out, "I think my house is haunted."
Her eyebrows shot up while she finished chewing. But Ben didn't stop.
"The ghost watched me in the shower."
She choked on her bite of food. She coughed into her napkin, but his words kept coming.
"It got quite the show, let me tell you." He made a vulgar gesture with his hand, making her look around for witnesses. Her face was quite red.
Caroline took a long drink before replying.
"You think your house is haunted?"
Ben nodded.
"The same house that looks like a stock photo of a haunted house?"
He nodded again. A little rude. His house had charm. But valid.
"And this ghost," she emphasized the word ghost. "Watched you do deplorable things to yourself."
" I wouldn't say deplorable." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
He spent the rest of the dinner telling her about all the odd things that happened around the house. Now that he actually thought about it, it was a little obvious that something was going on. Maybe a mental breakdown or a stroke. He never thought of a ghost.
Caroline sat quietly while he talked, eating her food.
"Well, you're either an idiot who can't keep track of his things or a helpful ghost is haunting you."
It is an unfortunate thing that both options could be true. "So, what do I do?"
"There's nothing to be done about your stupidity," she said with a sly little smile.
"Thanks, Caroline. I feel really supported." He tried not to pout; he was a grown man, dammit.
"There's also nothing I can do about a possible haunting." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm an accountant, not a psychic."
He was full-blown pouting now. He had been hopeful she had some idea of what to do.
"You've been working hard. Maybe you need to take a couple of days off, and blow off some steam."
He knew he looked pathetically let down. She shot him a sympathetic look and patted his hand.
"If things keep happening, we can figure it out. We'll binge some haunting movies and see what to do."
As he lay in bed that night, listening for any movement throughout the house, he thought about what Caroline said.
He had been working hard, and doors sabotaged the break he tried to take. The process of buying a house is not easy. Then there was packing and moving, and now all the physical labor. He probably was just overworked. He just needed a break from the house. Maybe he could chalk all this up to exhaustion.
He needed sunshine and socialization.
The next few days, Ben spent as much time out of the house as he could. He went to the gym in the mornings and showered there. He did a couple of hours of work in local coffee shops. He visited his parents and walked the local trails.
He told himself he wasn't avoiding his house. He was de-stressing—self-care and all that.
Each night when he returned to the house, he made a point of not looking too closely at anything. If things were out of place, he didn't notice. He chose small projects to work on, nothing that was too strenuous, physically or mentally. He stripped hideous wallpaper from the upstairs bedrooms, pulled out rotten baseboards, and filled bags with trash.
He ate most meals out of the house; his parents generously didn't mention his increased presence at the family table.
Things were getting better. He felt more settled in his house. The apprehension he had felt drifted away, and he convinced himself that the "ghost" was just a figment of his overworked imagination. Things seemed to move around because he was so busy and forgetful. The doors just swelled shut; it happened in old houses. He couldnt believe he thought someone was watching him in the shower! That was just crazy. Those were just his handprints on the outside of the door. The glass of the shower door just distorted them, making them seem smaller.
Ben was well rested, and his house was just a fixer-upper.
Everything was fine.
Until he brought her home and everything went to Hell.