Page 197 of Haunt Me

Eden’s Old Phone

(four years ago)

F: You are in love with him, aren’t you?

F: You are in love.

F: I knew you wouldn’t answer that.

F: You are, though. In love.

thirty-eight

Spencer has everyone working on his freaking Christmas play. Meanwhile, most of us are trying to keep ourselves awake long enough to go through a round of rehearsals. Once he’s done writing it.

To no one’s surprise, the first rehearsal is a royal fail. Personally, I couldn’t care less, but Eden seems so invested in the idea that I want it to be perfect for her. After we dissolve into chaos for the fifteenth time, I look at her anxiously, bracing myself for the disappointment on her face. Instead, she is laughing so hard she can’t catch her breath.

I was wrong, I guess. Then suddenly, she gasps:

“Oh, my gosh, I know what this is! It’s a scene straight out ofMansfield Park!”

Spencer yells “yes!” and raises his arm in the air, palm up. Eden high fives him over our heads. And then they just stare at each other for a second, sort of frozen in laughter, and Ari groans:

“Can anyone else see the cogs turning inside his head? He’s planning a new Austen adaptation, isn’t he?”

Faith laughs. “And he’ll get Eden to write it, I bet.”

Eden ducks her head, going all red, and Spencer laughs and says: “Well, now that you have all figured it out, I’m not going to do it, am I, Eden? We’ll write something completely different.”

“We?” Eden says weakly, looking as if she is about to faint.

“Emma?” Walter guesses, and Spencer places a hand dramatically on his chest.

“You wound me, sir,” he says, feigning disgust. “Of all the good Austen books,Emma?”

“Emmais a good Austen book!” Walter exclaims, looking ready for battle. He takes a menacing step closer to Spencer. “I’ll fight anyone who disagrees. It’ll have to be pistols at dawn for you and me, young man.”

Wes meets him in the middle of the room and they proceed to have a sword fight with spoons. It’s kind of better than the one Spencer had with Ari on the beach, if I’m honest. Less choreography, more falling on their asses. Makes for a better spectacle, that’s for sure.

Everyone laughs so hard they slide off the couch, sprawling on the carpet. Noah, not understanding what’s happening any better than a potato would, laughs so hard he freaks himself out and ends up crying. For some reason, everyone finds this even more hilarious.

Unnoticed, I quietly slip away to the bathroom. I close the door behind me, but I can still hear the laughter echoing from the living room. I brace my hands on the sink and meet my own gaze in the mirror. I look like I’m about to cry. This is my thing now, apparently: escaping to bathrooms.

“I need a pill,” I say to myself in a whisper.

‘You don’t need a pill,’my therapist’s voice replies in my head—the words he’s said to me so many times before in person.‘Dig deeper. When you want a pill, you want to change the way you are currently feeling. Why? What do you really need?’

“I need this,” I say to the mirror-Isaiah, as his lips move with mine. “I need Eden in my life. I need the sunshine she brings with her wherever she goes. I need to be happy enough to be able to laugh with my friends. I need to do more than survive—I need to live.”

Absolute silence follows my words. Then another burst of laughter from the living room. The turkey’s smell is overpowering—it’s nearly done. Great. Now that I’ve discovered what I need, I can get out of here. Except that I don’t have the faintest idea how to actually get when I need.

Is it too late to have faith?

An hour later, we’re finally eating. And not that anyone is paying any attention—well, except for me—but Spencer leans over the heads of everyone that’s seated between him and Eden, and asks her:

“You are a writer, right? A writer as well as a poet? I didn’t get that wrong?”

“Erm what?” Eden says, swallowing a bite.

---