Page 5 of Almost You

Abby and I met in high school when I’d transferred to a better foster home, where she was already living. We’d clicked right away as people who took the world seriously, and we’d helped each other get through the foster system. I’d married Abby at nineteen, and we’d divorced two years ago.

“I still love you, Chris,” she’d told me. “You’re the first steady thing in my life. But the ghost stuff has become a lot. You’re obsessed with the spiritual realm, and that leaves me behind. And, most importantly, I want kids and you don’t. Hell, you don’t even want to have sex most days. I like sex, I miss sex. I deserve sex!”

What could I say? She wasn’t wrong. I was wrong and always had been. There was alackingin me. Lacking of what, or why I lacked it, I couldn’t explain.

“We have to divorce, or we’ll end up hating each other.” She’d begun to cry.

I’d patted her back awkwardly and tried to wipe her tears. I’d wanted to give her the world. I’d loved her and had liked being married. But she’d been right about me; not only had I hesitated in the bedroom, uncomfortable and not always able to perform, but I’d had zero interest in having children. Not after the disaster of my childhood. Abby was the opposite. Wanting to have kids to prove she could overcome her past and love them. I’d let her serve me divorce papers, given her the house, and moved out. It was the right decision for us. But sometimes, the loneliness made me miss being a husband and belonging to another person.

After Abby and I broke up, I didn’t join any dating services or check out any strip clubs. None of that interested me like itwould some guys who’d had just one serious girlfriend. When I did venture out, I only felt lonelier in the dating scene. I sure as hell didn’t have a spark of attraction for other girls. I began to wonder about my lack of a sex drive, even beyond Abby. I’d almost gone to see a doctor for it. My lack of sparks.

But, man, I was feeling a spark now. For this newly dead, grieving, hot,maleghost.

My cheeks flamed; my pulse raced.

For years, I’d talked myself out of needing anyone’s touch. I’d loved Abby, but I was never in love with her. Maybe I was too afraid.

Now something in me had stirred to life. Something hot and dirty, making me sweat.

I tried not to imaginehimtouching me. The press of his fingers on me, demanding a response.

“Look, I got a job to do.” I turned, hugged my arms to my chest, and hurried to stalk away. He might not believe in past lives, but I did. And his lost pleas only made me more certain I had known him—somewhere, somehow. That I could help him, even. But these other sensations? How I felt when his scared eyes locked with mine?Thoseconfused me.

“Wait!” He grabbed my hand, his fingers latching on to mine with a surprisingly strong grip.

I stared at our laced fingers, a jolt of chemistry making me hard.

No, this can’t be right. It’s just…too long since I’ve been touched.

“Please,” he said, still squeezing my fingers. Then his eyes widened. “I can feel you! Can you feel me?”

“Yes.” I held his gaze, but I took my hand away.

“Oh, God. I’m so glad. I imagined being immaterial and unable to touch you or anyone ever again.”

“Well, in the human realm that’s true. You could only see me there, watch me, not touch me. But this is your plane of existence. You’re real here, same as you once were there.”

“I don’t know who to visit, even if I could go there. I had people who cared about me. I can feel that much. It’s like my name—their names—are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t—” He broke off with a frustrated noise.

At least he had people. When Abby and I separated, our friends had gone with her or drifted away. A sobering thought struck me: This young ghost had been touched more recently than me. Loved more recently than me. What the hell did that say aboutmylife?

He eyed me. “And somehow, you’re real in both realms?”

I gave a curt nod.

“Wow, okay.”

“But I have more control in the human realm. Ghosts have the control here.”

“What control?” He snorted.

Fuck, he was a newbie.

Ghosts could change their setting at will. It could be a beach one day and mountains the next. It was like a dream you could control to a degree. And it was real for them. The salty spray of a wave, snowflakes on an outstretched tongue. If anything, ghosts’ senses were sharper than humans, except for the taste thing.

But newbies had to learn this skill, so for them the background was like a white screen—tiny clouds floating by, but that was all.

I glanced at some ghosts nearby. They were whispering to each other, having what appeared to be a minor argument. Unfortunately, ghosts were a cliquey bunch. Like middle school fuckery all over again. They’d teach the young ghost…in time, but only once a certain ghost group approached him with an offer. Until then, new arrivals drifted, aimless and afraid.The exceptions were ghosts who died together. Lucky bastards, those. And the babies. They were taken in by a group on arrival and well cared for.

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