Page 63 of Giving Up The Ghost
No, hiding from myself.
Everything that happened came with a tremendous dose of guilt—if I hadn’t been so damned insistent on my curiosity, would Charlotte still be alive? Would any of the mediums Nadine had killed?
Julian and Ezra had twigged to my dark mood very easily and, after letting me wallow for a few days, insisted that I get out in the world with them. Well, Ezra insisted. Julian just quietly supported. And also sighed a lot. The sighing is what did me in, to be honest. So, on the third day, we went to the British Museum and spent too much money on salads in the café and saw amazing, beautiful things that should not have been there. Julian’s whispered joke about why the pyramids were in Egypt (“Because the British couldn’t smuggle them out of the country!”) didnotgo over well with the little blue hairs who overheard.
I’d cackled, then felt very guilty. And giggled a bit more.
We’d returned to the townhouse, Ezra making the executive decision to order in, and I just sort of melted into the sofa while Julian pulled out his laptop again.
I woke hours later to a darkened study and a thick blanket draped over my legs. Julian was drowsing, chin to chest, at the desk, the glow of his laptop screen telling me he hadn’t been out that long—the screen still showed the document he’d been working on. Stiffly, I pushed myself from the sofa where he’d tucked me down after I’d dozed off from my crying jag and padded to peek over his shoulder. Whatever the academic jargon he was using, it was nearly foreign to me, but I did see enough to twig to the fact he was delving into mediumship in northern European belief systems.
This was going to be a very long paper.
When he didn’t rouse at my gentle prodding, nor at my more forcefulOi! Wake up! Let’s get you to bed!I dragged the blanket from the sofa and draped it over him. He’d hate his sore back tomorrow—later today, I corrected as the old carriage clock on the mantle began to chime two—but he was out like a light.I left the little lamp on the end table on, and the door to the corridor open. The ghosts in the townhouse would leave him be—they were used to our comings and goings, and I’d made sure to come in by myself our first night there and let Billy know we’d be in residence.
He hated having too many people in the house and preferred a heads-up if there’d be more than just me and, formerly, Grandmere and Grandfather.
I murmured a goodnight to the young ghost as I padded up the stairs, turning off the light in the upstairs corridor as I went. As I passed Ezra’s room, I heard him talking low and sleepy to Harrison on the phone. Hesitantly, I knocked on his door, waiting for the all-clear before opening it. Ezra was slouched on the bed, his phone pressed to his chest as he regarded me with bleary eyes. “You should get some sleep,” I blurted. “You look awful.”
“Fuck you very much,” he grumbled without ire. “You guys off to bed then? Do I need to get out my earplugs?”
“Ha. No. Julian is sacked out in the study. I’m going to hog the pillows all night and no one will be there to stop me.”
Ezra held up a finger to tell me to wait as he picked his phone back up again, “I’ll call you in a bit, okay babe?”
“Babe?” I teased when he hung up. “Babe? Like the little cute piglet? Or like the Blue Ox?” At Ezra’s salacious grin, I threw up my hands. “For the love of god, don’t answer that. Pretend I never said a thing!”
He cackled, sliding further down the bed and motioning for me to come join him. “Reminds me of being kids,” he said as I flopped back next to him. “We’d always start off in different rooms.”
“But end up in the same bed before midnight.” I smiled. He leaned his head against my shoulder, and I leaned mine against the top of his head.So tired. So fucking tired.
“You know I love you, Ozzy,” Ezra said suddenly, barely above a whisper. “No matter what?”
My heart gave an uncomfortable lurch and skip. “Of course,” I whispered back. “Ezra, is something the matter? You’re sounding like something’s the matter.”
His smile, when it came, was genuine. A bit tired, a bit nervous, but true. “Harrison… Harrison is talking about marriage.”
I sat up, a confusing and nauseating mix of excitement and anxiety surging through me. “With you?”
“No, with Julian! Of course with me, you knob.” Ezra laughed, tugging me back down. If he noticed I clung a bit more tightly to his arms, he didn’t let on. “I haven’t answered him. Well, he hasn’t even asked really. He just… He’s brought it up a few times. Usually after sex so I’m pretty sure he’s just on an orgasm high.”
I made a face at him, furrowing my brow and wrinkling my nose. “Orgasm highs make you sayI love youtoo soon or agree to shaving your ballsjust to see what it’s like. They don’t make you talk about marriage!”
“Calm down, Ozzy,” Ezra soothed with a sigh. “And what the hell kind of orgasms are you having? Wait, don’t tell me. There are some things I don’t need to know about you and Jules.”
We were quiet for a long time. So long I thought Ezra might be dozing off. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “I do love you, you twat.”
I smiled against his hair, the urge to cry strong. “And I love you.”
“You know even if I married him, or you married Julian, or we marry other people down the line, we’re still us. I’m not going to throw you over.”
“And I won’t throw you over.”
“Pinky swear.”
The most solemn of childhood promises. We linked pinkies and gave them a gentle shake for good measure before releasing. “I believe you,” I added, just to underscore our swearing. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t ever fight.”
“So long as you know that whatever I end up doing, it’s not meant to hurt you.”
