Page 75 of Dead Set on You
“Centuries of haunting,” I parry, my stomach dipping despite the confidence of my words.
“Then I’ll do my best to stay away from your hair.” He winks, pushing the door open.
I steel myself and slip into the room first.
The room hits like a punch—bleak and sterile, all harsh light and humming machines. It screamsYou shouldn’t be here. My gaze snags on the bed—stiff white sheets, too-still body.Me.My stomach coils.
I shrink back some more at the sight of a man in a black cloak beside the bed.
But Rafael is at my back, blocking the door—the only reason I don’t immediately evacuate.
“Finally!” Lupe’s voice makes me jump. She greets Rafael with a bright smile that matches the energy of her RBG tee and ripped jeans—a jarring splash of color and energy in the room.Secrets, secrets, secretsis the mantra pounding in my head as I look to the stranger in the room. My potential solution.
The man’s face is lined with age, like the rest of him. He seems kind and welcoming. Or maybe that’s part of the gig. He hovers at my bedside, a silver cross dangling from his neck.
“Hola, Rafael,” he says.
“Padre, thanks for coming on such short notice,” Rafael says, reaching over to shake the priest’s hand.
“Of course,” he says. “Lupe tells me she is a close friend.”
“Yes,” Rafael responds without hesitation. I’d be surprised if it weren’t for the walls closing in. My chest tightens, each breath shallow and sharp. I press my fingers to my temples, but the pressure mounts, doing nothing to quell the rising tide of nausea and dread.
I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I need to get out. Now.
I retreat a step. Then another. I feel the chill of the door as I back through it, catching Rafael’s gaze. His face crinkles in confusion. I don’t stall—I disappear before he can ask me what’s wrong or, worse yet, to stay. The hospital blurs as I rush through the stairwell door. Down the stairs. Out the door.
Outside, I take deep breaths, clutching my stomach to steady myself.
I know I’m a coward, but I just can’t do it. Being in that room makes it real, makes me feel like I’m suffocating, and that can’t be good for making sure this works.
Pacing the parking lot, I glance up at the place where I imagine my room is located, where I’ve left Rafael and Lupe to pray for me because maybe their prayers are better than mine.
I move my gaze beyond the hospital, shielding my eyes from the bright sun. Annie wants me to hold on, so I’ll try it all. I dig deep, imagining the prayers working their magic from somewhere up above. Calling to me. Urging my spirit back where it belongs. And me finally waking up, returning to my regularly scheduled programming.
I close my eyes and think about Helene’s words—unfinished business.
That could mean anything.
I’m almost thirty and have spent the better part of two decades running. From my past. From my mother. From grief. It’s mostlyallunfinished business.
“So, what is it?” I shout up at the sky. “How do I get back?”
A siren wails in the distance. I wait.
And then—as if divine intervention meets lightbulb moment—it hits me.
My bucket list.
I almost squeal.
Yes, yes, yes!That’sit. The bucket list. The numerous items that I’ve collected over the last fifteen years. Hopes and dreams and aspirations of things I wanted to accomplish but never found the time for because there was always something more important. And maybe the Big Guy (or Gal) thought I needed a wake-up call to focus on theotherstuff.
Maybe focusing on the bucket list is what will bring me back, because it’s the one constant that’s kept me pushing forward.
Excitement flutters through me, so strong. I’m convinced I’m back in my body.
