Shortly after moving in to her new townhouse and a day or so after she found moving boxes inexplicably rearranged, Janine answered the door. It was the couple that had moved out before her. In a hurry. They explained the house was haunted. They recommended she get out while she could. Janine didn’t tell them she wasn’t moving because she wasn’t afraid or didn’t believe. No, she told them she wasn’t moving because she couldn’t afford to move. The rent was cheap. “For a reason!” the former tenants  exclaimed, imploring her to leave while her sanity was intact.

She thanked them and hoped their new place was ghost free. She closed the door and a plate flew past her face and exploded against the far wall. Janine sighed, and set to unpacking.

Janine died a week later.

It had nothing to do with the townhouse. It had everything to do with the drunk driver going the wrong way on the freeway. When Janine woke up in her bed for the last time, she didn’t feel the covers or the pillow, or anything. But it was the last time because movers took her stuff away. Janine watched her sister go through her things, never not crying, and Janine couldn’t do anything to assuage her mourning. And then all Janine’s stuff was gone and the townhouse was quiet – they hadn’t started showing it yet.

“So, it’s all ours now?” the voice behind her startled her. She spun to see tall overweight white man in zebra striped MC Hammer pants and a stained Van Halen shirt.

“Who the hell are you?”

“’Who the hell are you?’” he imitated her in a falsetto. “I’m your damn ghost housemate. Duh.” He sat heavily on one of the stairs.

“You’re the asshole who moved around all my shit? Who broke my plates? Who woke me up in my house at all hours of the night?”

“Whoa, sister, I’m gonna stop you right there….”

“I am not your sister!”

“Okay,” he held out a hand in defense, “that was culturally insensitive of me.” He paused for a moment and then yelled, “Girlfrieeeeend!”

Janine took two long steps across the carpet and slapped him hard with a backhand.

“Oww!” he said grabbing at his face. “That hurt! I didn’t know you could hurt me!”

“Look here,” she stood a foot away from him, her finger pointing in his face. “I am not your sister, your girlfriend, or whatever else your cracker-ass thinks I am. I’m dead and I’m pretty damn pissed about it. What’s worse, the ghost I lived with – who I’m now apparently stuck with – is a wise-cracking, white-assed, man-boy and I frankly liked you better when all you did was smash my dishes. I don’t have to like you, and I don’t expect you to like me. But if we’re resigned to this townhouse for the afterlife, you’re damn well going to show me some respect. Because if that slap got your attention,” she took a step closer so she was mere inches from his face, “know that I’ve got a mean right cross and I am not afraid to kick your lily-white ass. Do I make myself clear?”

“I liked you better alive.”

“I liked you better when I didn’t have to deal with you.”

“Why didn’t you move? I gave you enough reasons.”

“What is your name?”

“Tony.”

“Tony? I’m Janine. And I couldn’t afford to move. Yes, you were annoying, and you broke my good dishes, but the paranormal seems to be the only sort of rent control the powers that be can’t stop.”

“That bad out there?”

“When did you die?”

“1986.”

Janine shook her head sadly. “Worse than you can imagine.”

“But at least you’ve got flying cars, right?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“It’s 2018, right? I figured you’ve got to have flying cars by now.”

“No,” Janine said flatly. “No flying cars. People drive so badly now – I was killed by a drunk driver! Can you imagine what it’d be like with flying cars?”

“You make a good point.”

“Don’t even get me started about those self-driving cars…”

“You have self-driving cars?!” Tony exclaimed.

“Yes… no…. sort of… it’s complicated,” she said. And then leaned against the wall and let herself slide down until she sat on the floor holding her knees.

The quiet fell over the townhouse again. After long minutes Tony said, “Janine?”

“Yes Tony?”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him with curiosity.

“For being a dick earlier. I’m not used to… you know, communicating with someone. I’m used to being obnoxious to try to get them out.”

Janine shook her head. “I couldn’t afford to move when I was alive, and it sure looks like I’m stuck here when I’m dead.”

“Looks like it.” He hauled himself to his feet and stood over Janine and held out his hand. “Let’s start again. Hello housemate ghost, I’m Tony. You must be…”

Janine smiled for the first time since she died. She shook his hand, “Hi Tony. I’m Janine. I’m recently deceased and I guess we’re housemates.”

Just then the door knob rattled. “Oh no!” Tony said, his face draining of color.

Janine hurried to her feet. “What? What is it?”

The door opened and a woman in a gray pantsuit led a more causally dressed woman, a teenage girl, and an adolescent boy into the house.

“Take a look around,” the pantsuited lady said.

“I like it already,” the woman said. “What do you think, Suzie?”

“I don’t know,” the teenage girl shrugged and pulled out her phone.

“I’m gonna go pick out my room!” the boy screamed running past Tony and up the stairs.

“Oh my god. I’m so afraid!”

“What, Tony, what?!” Janine implored.

“Tenants!”