Page 26 of Almost You

He wasn’t perfect. Neither was I. But he was always on my mind. Whether we were in my realm or his. I thought of him and was happy. If I missed him, I became sad. Whatever I felt, I wanted to share it with him. I wanted to tattoo myself on his soul.

If that wasn’t love, what was?

One day, after I’d long forgotten how many had passed, we had a picnic near a creek. I’d conjured autumn leaves, Christopher’s favorite season. The leaves were hues of red and burnt orange. We’d spread a checkered blanket out near the creek. Christopher snacked while I played footsie with him. Nudging my toes across his, I leaned toward him, watching the trees, feeling the wind in my hair, counting the ripples in the creek.

A gentle breeze blew over the egg-sized lump. I closed my eyes, imagining it shrinking. Just a little smaller, not vanishing altogether. Maybe from the egg-shaped size to a penny-shaped one.

And, just like that, itwassmaller.

I took in a shaky breath and pressed my finger to the spot to confirm it. I moved my hand away, and I couldn’t explain it, but this feeling of peace filled me. My mind, which had previously had a restless quality, quieted. Christopher snuggled me to him. I put my hand on his chest, nuzzling my mouth at his neck.

My memories were still stripped. But I felt seen, valued…and that mattered. I pulled his lips to mine, kissing him. “You mean the world to me,” I whispered.

But I meant more than that. He’d allowed me to build a world. How empty this realm would have been otherwise. Christopher gave me that comfort. To trust myself even when the pieces weren’t there.

“I love you,” Christopher answered. Simple and direct, like him.

We kissed again, and I held his face softly between my hands. I closed my eyes, savoring his taste and strength. Once I opened them, I saw a bicycle behind the creek bed. It was a bike built for two.

“Oh, let’s take a ride on that!” I stood, my heart beating with excitement.

I could create anything imaginable, but a simple bicycle quickened my steps. I glided over to it, Christopher lumbering behind me. I climbed onto the front seat; he got on the back. We pedaled along the side of the creek. Up ahead, I saw a clearing beyond the trees. I pedaled faster, my legs pumping. I could smell the wet leaves.

I glanced at Christopher, to share my happiness, a faint smile on my face. That was when something felt off. The air cooled and a strong gust of wind whipped through my limbs. I fought an urge to jerk the bike away. To steady myself, I turned my head forward, tucked my chin down, and tried to move quickly past it. Only, another gust came, landing heavily on me, as if the wind had the weight of a body. My feet felt like glue. I wentcold, nauseous. I shivered out of control, sweat drenching my shoulders and neck.

I should have told Christopher that I loved him, too.

The nausea increased, and a sharp cramp came with it.Inhale. Exhale. I dragged in the air for a breath. Something stirred inside of me. The taste of dirt. A shrill shout. My heart was about to explode out of my chest. I gripped the bike while it bucked underneath me. Then everything began to spin.

My feet ceased pedaling, and Christopher carried us forward a moment.

“Stop!” I screamed. I managed to jump off the bike. I staggered a few steps but landed on my feet as Christopher came to a halt.

He rushed over. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I remember…something.”

FIFTEEN

Christopher

He hunched over, breathing ragged.

“What do you remember?”

“A twisted path and a bicycle. The sun in my eyes, too bright. Flashing dots. The rest is fuzzy.” He touched his hand to the side of his head. “Nothing else.” His eyes widened. “Do you think?” Before I could reply, he turned and made retching sounds.

It made sense. What Ghost was silently asking, but it sucked if the only piece of his life he might get back was related to his death.

“I’m cold.”

I massaged his hands in mine. Offering my warmth.

“Let’s try some words.”

“No, it’s fading away, whatever…this was.”

“But maybe now that a piece returned, the others are closer,” I pushed. This would not be his only memory. A fragmented sense of fear.

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