Page 76 of Grim
The air grows heavier, and I feel a tingle run up my spine.
“Obviously, there is something here that makes him want to hold on. Something your notes didn’t cover.”
“Rue, he’s alone,” Kane continues, and I can tell he’s done humoring me. “No family, no legacy. Just that weathered body and a worn-down mattress in a house that smells of dust and mold.”
“You really are something, you know that?” I snap, shaking my head. “Thinking everything human can be put down on paper and explained away. Insistent that everything has a reason and a way.” He looks at me like he doesn’t know what to say, and I roll my eyes before continuing, “Life is messy, Kane. And complicated and scary and so many other things. So, maybe you should be doing more than keeping your knife sheathed. Maybe you should be listening, guiding, and leading with love.”
My outburst is cut short by a dark grey cloud that floats out of the center of GG’s chest. It steals my entire focus as his physical form takes a smoky shape.
This grey version of him looks at me and smiles. “Looks like we won’t be finishing that game after all.”
I give him a short laugh. “Maybe someday, GG. You never know.”
Mr. Guidry’s face softens.
“You’ve run out of time,” Kane interrupts. “I’ll mark you as unwilling to move on, a lost soul. Enjoy your eternity here.”
“Kane!” I go to grab his arm, but he moves it away.
“I can’t leave!” Mr. Guidry barks out. “Winston needs me.”
“Winston?” Kane questions, and it hits me.
“His dog,” I say, looking around before going to the bed and lifting the blankets to find the cocker spaniel tucked up against the body like a small, grieving shadow.
“You chose to stay,” Kane says slowly, like he’s trying to make sense of the madness, “for a dog?”
“For the one creature who loved me without asking me to earn it? Yes. For the being that taught me the meaning of unconditional love? Yes.”
Kane huffs out a cold laugh before shaking his head. “Fine, it’s too late anyway. Come on, Mayday,” he says, brushing past me. “Let’s go.”
But I don’t move.
“Hang on a second.”
“Rue—”
“Love is love, Kane. The object of that desire does not make the feeling any less powerful or any less real,” I insist. “This beautiful old man clings to love. Can you blame him? Have you never known lo—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Rue.” The threat and the warning are very clear in his tone.
I change tack.
“Let me”—I hesitate—“talk to him,” I finish unsurely.
Kane sighs and looks at his Tombstone Phone. “Fine,” he relents. “I don’t see the harm. You want to waste your time talking to the ghost? Go for it. His window for crossover is rapidly closing, and once that portal is shut, this is where Mr. G’s soul shall remain.”
I eye Kane as a resolve takes over. I feel my spine stiffen, and I make my way toward the spectral energy hovering above, though still attached to, Glen’s physicalform. I am not sure I can help him, but I know I can speak to him. And even when faced with the impossible, it’s easier to brave it when we aren’t alone.
I kneel beside the shimmering remnants of Glen Guidry and give him a soft smile. “Tell me about Winston, GG.”
His translucent smile tugs at my heart. “He’s my heartbeat. He knows when I’m tired, sad, hurting. He’s been the rhythm of my days since Agnes died. He sleeps at the foot of my bed. Nudges his bowl for breakfast and dinner at the exact same time every day. He’s my own lovable alarm clock. I could measure the whole day by his needs. He would even remind me to take my pills at night.”
“How’d he do that, GG?” I ask warmly.
“He’d look up at my nightstand, yip once, and then spin counterclockwise. Eight thirty-five every night. If I didn’t reach over and grab my dispenser, he wouldn’t stop.” He pauses, sighs, and smiles. His smoky form wavers slightly in the air. “He loves me, you know? Maybe that sounds silly to you because he’s just a small dog, but he does. He loves me. I don’t know how to leave him behind.”
“You don’t have to,” I whisper. “He’ll carry you with him. Every day. In every bark and dream and stubborn spin around the kitchen floor. That bond doesn’t just end. It can only shift.”
