Page 13 of All Your Tomorrows

“Do you remember her now?” I asked, sitting down on the arm of the loveseat.

“I remember her because we went to high school together. But when I looked at her, I didn’t feel anything. Like, when I see my parents, I want to go hug them and be near them and talk to them. I want them to see me. But when I see her, I don’t. Does that make sense?”

“The brain is a funny thing. Especially, after you’ve been through what you’ve been through. You’ll remember everything when you’re meant to.”

He didn’t respond, growing quiet.

The fire crackled, emphasizing the silence that crept between us.

I checked my phone and found four texts from Izzy.

Did he come in?

What did he want?

Is he still there?

Helloooooo?

I smiled.

“Boyfriend?” Kyler asked.

I shook my head. “No. They’re too much trouble.”

He laughed. “You’re probably right.”

“Just my roommate,” I explained as I shot off a text responding to all four of her texts.Yes. Idk. Yes. Goodbye.

“Would you mind if I stayed again?” Kyler asked, pulling my attention away from my phone.

Ohhhh. That’s why he came back. “Sure.”

He looked relieved.

I moved from the arm of the loveseat down onto the seat cushion.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

I placed my phone down beside me, giving him my full attention. “Sure.”

“When did you see your first spirit?” he asked.

I grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the loveseat. “I’ve been hearing voices and having visions in my mind since I was five, but I didn’t see a spirit until I was nine.”

“Was it scary?”

I shook my head. “It was my dad.”

“Jesus, Nora. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost your dad.”

“How would you know?” I asked, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders.

“Would you mind me asking what happened?”

I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “He’d been really sick with cancer. It was hard watching him turn into a shell of himself. So, when the time came, I told him it was okay to go because I’d see him again one day. And then, he let go.”

“And you saw him again,” Kyler said.

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