Page 22 of Almost You

“Don’t be.” He rubbed our rib cage in soothing circles. “We’re in it together.”

“That’s true. I think…I’ve had lots of sex, but never this way.”

“This is so good. I might never find it again. With others in my own realm, I mean.”

“Me, either.”

“It’s not too practical. Channeling takes a ton of energy and focus.”

“Practice makes perfect?” I suggested.

We pulled the blanket over our body, snuggled down into the pillow, and slept.

TWELVE

Ghost

Being a ghost meant dealing with a lot of nothing. Yet, I’d learned it could still feel like living. My awareness remained. And like the saying goes: it’s not how you died, it’s how you lived.

I still didn’t know who I had been.

But then…did any of us know who we were? Even with our memories?

I was concentrating on how to live in the present. You’d think without a past, this would be easier, but it wasn’t. Living in the present still required letting go, still required trust.

I did think about the future. Mostly of Christopher, and if he would remain in mine. Honestly? He was the best part of my day, every day.

I was still worried none of this was fair to him. At the end of this story, after all, I couldn’t become alive.

But I also thought about finding a purpose that was all my own. For that reason, I’d started breaking ghost protocol. I greeted the new ghosts these days instead of turning away. I cared for them, especially the lost and scared ones. They arrivedwithout memory, only their bodies and face near the end of their human lives a clue to their pasts. They arrived powerless, like I had felt.

I’d become nicknamed “The Counselor” by the newbies. Need help? See The Counselor. A few other ghosts joined me in this pursuit, but most didn’t. Most ghosts stuck to the old ways.

Helping the newbies helped me. In my heart, I began to grieve. I knew the truth. I would have to mourn my former self, even if I never remembered him.

Still, my optimistic nature rebounded as I found a purpose in the spiritual realm. Clearly, I enjoyed organizing things; I liked being busy.

And then there was Christopher. He’d arrive in the ghost realm, and my heart would remind me how deep my feelings were. Whenever he took on new clients, he got busy, but he respected that I was busy with my ghosts, too. He was searching for my past during his free hours, and on those days, he channeled me. We’d search his computers and trace leads. Not much had occurred there, but Christopher would softly reassure me. In this realm, he’d cuddle me to him and hold me if I got depressed. In return, I could kiss away his crankiness.

I liked the times he channeled me and I commanded his body, but he couldn’t kiss me there. Here, in the ghost realm, we kissed. Strong kisses. Soft kisses. I liked putting my mouth to his collarbone—which always made him groan—or placing my palm over his heart.

We would cuddle and talk. He’d nuzzle my neck, holding me protectively. And a selfish part of me was glad I got this man in both realms.

Other times, Christopher declared me “too hot to cuddle.” He’d become possessive, touching me desperately. Demanding more.

In the ghost world, we’d kissed in every season. Sometimes, I liked to kiss in a gentle snowfall, our mouths and tongues warm. Snow would land on Christopher’s dark hair. We kissed in the hot summer, our skin touching, clinging.

I knew deep down that maybe the ghost realm was a dream at best, but it had become my dream.

Christopher was the one who’d suggested more than kissing.

We were in a bedroom I’d created. A cute little bungalow-style house on the beach. The bedroom was homey. I’d added lots of pillows, a colorful quilt. It felt familiar to me, which was comforting. And even though I had no memories of the bungalow, I was eager to share it with Christopher. It felt right for us to do this here.

“Are you sure?” My nerves jangled.

“I want you inside me,” he urged. “We can’t do that when you visit me.”

“Will that even work between us?” I asked.

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