The first time I saw his ghost was at Denny’s. He must have been sixteen or seventeen. He was wearing a cheap black suit with a silk blue tie and a red satin rose boutonnière. He was a handsome golden haired Adonis, despite the fact that his face was blooming with puberty and covered with small irregular patches of acne. It appeared as though he had just left his high school prom, yet, it was late June around 1 PM and he was completely alone. 

Susan and I were sitting at the table across from him. We had woken up late that day after a night of heavy drinking and didn’t feel like taking the time to make food. So we decided on our favorite hangover food: Denny’s. I ordered a Moons Over My Hammy ®, chocolate chip pancakes, and a cup of coffee. Susan ordered two eggs sunny side-up, orange juice, and a side of bacon. 

At first I thought his date might have been in the bathroom, but after some considerable time had passed, I concluded with certainty that he had been stood up. No one at his age comes to eat at Denny’s alone. Let alone in a cheap black suit with a silk blue tie and a red satin rose boutonnière. Right? I am almost sure.

I imagined a fictional scenario: after a night of carelessness and casual romance, his girl pronounced that her feelings were in fact not mutual and quickly departed with another boy named Jake. At the ripe age of 17, love is fickle and taken for granted. The passions of the young at heart quickly fade, only to return, decades later, as visions of pure love still untainted by the realities of the world. I started to feel bad for the guy and all his hypothetical sorrows. He seemed to be on the verge of tears, but his pale blue eyes were probably just watery from fatigue. 

I only began to suspect that he was a ghost when I realized Susan couldn’t see him. She looked over his table several times with complete disinterest, betraying her usual habit of confabulation. So to test my theory, I made a casual remark about the boy’s bad posture, but she didn’t know who or what I was talking about.  

I told her that she must have missed seeing him, even though he was in fact still there, sitting across from us. 

I didn’t know what to make out of it, we were going through a rough period in our relationship, and maybe this was exactly the type of space that a ghost could use as a portal or medium, I don’t know.

A pang of insecurity made me doubt Susan’s proposed inability to see him.

“He is not my ghost. I don’t have any recollection of him, not even the loosest association. He has to be yours. There must be something you’re not telling me.” I said in utter desperation.

But she denied any knowledge of his presence again and again and again. 

©Scarlett S. Diaz 2025