Alastair looked annoyed. I’d ignored the courtesy distance, appearing right on top of him. But as soon as he saw the look on my face, his hands were on me, steadying me. Around us, the other ghosts at Clementine’s were whispering, watching for a scene to unfold. I gave them one.
“He’s gone.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“Liam.” I braced my hands on his chest. “I can’t find him—he’s gone.”
He tried spiriting us. We only ended up back at the grave again.
“I’m so sorry,” said Alastair.
Through his fingers, for the first time, something spilled over. An ache too old to be mine. He’d felt this before, enough to get sick of it: the abandonment and guilt of watching friends disappear.
“Where did he go?” I asked.
He pulled me close, softening my fall as I sank to the earth. “I don’t know.”
My eyes were dry. As much as I hated to cry, this felt worse.
“Is this how it feels?” I asked. “When someone you love dies?”
“It’s close,” he said, with reassuring authority once again, like I wanted to hear from him. I shut my still dry eyes, letting myself sink into his chest.
“What am I supposed to do with myself?”
He spoke soft and lilting, delivering the bad news as tenderly as a lullaby. “There’s nothing you can do, aside from sit for a while in shock, feeling numb. Then feel bad for feeling numb, and then feel stupid for trying to feel one way or another, as if it’s a performance. You go from the top and back again, over and over—because the reality of their absence from the world is too much to wrap your head around, when it’s easier to argue with yourself about how you should be feeling.”
I raised my head enough to peer up at his face. “How do you know?”
His face lay unmasked. “I’ve loved and lost, in life and in death.”
He sat with me as I did exactly as he said, wondering how I should be feeling, and for how long. It felt selfish, but I couldn’t help it. Right after the enormity of his absence, it scared me most to wonder how long this would hurt.
It helped to imagine how this would have gone if we were alive. If I’d heard about his death back when it first happened, flown in for the funeral.
I wouldn’t be the only person to hurt so badly. I’d see the state of his wife, and, whether she was bravely stoic or wailing and gnashing her teeth, in a weird way, it would make me feel better. Seeing someone hurting so much would make me compose myself, get a grip. You can’t outdo the widow at a funeral, any more than the bride at a wedding. But it might make her feel better, as well, like every tear held back and sob swallowed was one less she had to perform herself.
Even seeing all the guests that were less affected than me would help. We’d all be miserable, drinking bad coffee and sitting in fold-up chairs, making awkward small talk with strangers and avoiding former friends, watching the family take out their grief on each other.
Once we’d said our goodbyes, hopefully there’d be booze, and if everything went just right—if he’d lived the right kind of life—there’d be laughter as well as tears. And then I’d give myself something else to worry about by going to bed with somebody I shouldn’t have before flying home.
I didn’t have any of that. I’d gotten to hold onto him for longer than any of his family and friends, but not by much. And now, I had to face losing him alone, with no life to get on with afterwards.
Well, not alone.
* * *
Alastair must’ve felt that I wanted to extricate myself, because he let go. He’d been holding me for a long time. Much longer than I’d ever let him when we were sleeping together.
“Thanks,” I said, as I got up.
He shadowed me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I curbed the urge to roll my eyes. After all, he meant well.
“I’ve got somebody waiting for me.”
His mouth curled to the side. “And who might that be?”
“It’s exactly who you think it is.”
I didn’t know if I still needed to spirit a courtesy distance from Ren. But I didn’t trust myself to burst right into the middle of the apartment right now, in case I started going geist. So I waited out on the fire escape, though the already cracked glass of the window made me nervous as I peered in, ready to knock.
There were voices inside. The wallflowers must’ve invited themselves over. I laughed when I recognized what they were doing, sitting on the floor surrounded by bits and bobs of particle wood.
“What’s the chance you bought a factory dud?” said Danny. “We’re probably not looking at the right piece.”
Evie piled her hair up high and tied it with her scarf up to keep it out of her face. “It’s supposed to have holes, isn’t it?”
“That’s cool,” Ren said. “You can still change your hair?”
“Well, I try.” Evie smoothed her hands over the satin. “It’s not very neat.”
“It looks nice.”
Danny pointed to the box propped against the wall. “Did we leave any pieces in there?”
“It’s empty,” said Carlos, tossing the package to demonstrate.
“Ow.”
“Sorry, I forgot you’re corporeal.”
“But we found it,” said Evie, retrieving a board from under the bed.
Ren took it, flipping it over for a look. “Never mind, there’s no holes.”
“Do you have a drill?” she asked.
“I don’t even have a screwdriver.”
I’d fallen back into my old eavesdropping habit, watching from the outside, looking in. It felt safer that way. I didn’t want to bring the party down if I couldn’t hold it together. Nobody wanted shattered glass for confetti, bursting faucets for noisemakers.
But I shouldn’t be alone. So, with a sigh, I lifted my hand and gently rapped my knuckles on the glass, so gingerly I didn’t even make a sound at first.
Ren blinked at me on the other side as he approached.
“Why are you knocking?” he asked, after he opened the window. “Just come in.”
Despite the invitation, and the welcome sight of his face, I couldn’t move. They came to me instead, crowding around the window.
“You scared us,” said Evie.
“I thought you were one of his geists,” said Danny.
Carlos laughed, shaking his head. “We’re the worst ghosts.”
I felt guilty for wincing. They were my friends, after all.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ren.
He climbed out through the window and onto the fire escape for a closer look at me. I uncrossed my arms and tried to uncurl my spine, too late. His hands were on me, but as sweet as his concern ached in my chest, he couldn’t ground me like I wanted.
Evie’s hand flew to her chest. “The Haunt?”
“Did they come back?”
“Is she still standing?”
I waved them all off. “No, no, yes.”
Evie stepped straight through the window onto the fire escape, reaching out to anchor me with hands I could truly feel. “What is it, then? You can tell us anything.”
All that touch broke me down with too much tenderness to bear. I flushed with embarrassment, choking on weird half-formed sobs, as my eyes stung and face ached with overdue tears.
“Liam.”
I didn’t want to be the one to break the news, even if they wouldn’t take it as hard as me. It put them in such a weird position. If I were them, and I knew him so little, I’d have a hard time knowing how to react.
It felt so weird to say it. As if I’d given up, accepted it, by putting it into words.
“He crossed.”
After finally getting it out, my throat seemed to give. I couldn’t reply to their condolences, all the I’m-so-sorrys and it’s-going-to-be-OKs and we’re-here-for-yous. I could hardly even process whose hands were on me, surrounding me. I must’ve been prickly to the touch, so much wounded pride, my own embarrassment mirrored back at me through their touch. Yet they didn’t let go. They hadn’t even known him, but they were willing to take my pain and share it. It made me cry harder, even as I began to feel better.
It ended sooner than I would’ve thought. I stopped right in the middle of a sob to catch my breath, but didn’t feel the need to finish, going quiet. It felt hollow in a good way, my chest opened up and emptied out, freshly exhumed. We parted, leaving me alone in my own skin again. I knew they weren’t far, though.
“You must’ve been close,” said Ren.
Out of everyone, only he hadn’t met Liam. That didn’t lessen how drawn his face was with concern, just from seeing me this way.
“He was my ex,” I said. That got some raised eyebrows. But it didn’t quite cover it. “And my friend, and… my old bandmate.”
“No kidding,” said Carlos.
“I can’t imagine,” added Danny.
Evie went quiet, like she had to process herself. He’d been her bandmate too, if much more briefly.
“Let’s get inside,” said Ren.
He tried to coax me, but I pulled back.
“Could you put the coffee pot in the cupboard?” I asked. “And the lamp and the plants in the closet, just in case.”
“On it,” he said, before going inside to geist-proof the place.
“Is there anything else we could do?” asked Carlos.
“Tell us what you need,” said Evie.
I couldn’t meet their eyes, unaccustomed to this kind of attention. “Just don’t mind that I’m going to be a bummer for a while.”
They all chimed in that they couldn’t possibly, no way, my feelings were valid, and I had to feel them, however long it would take. As soon as we got inside, I gave in to the urge to sink to the floor. They all joined me.
“Let’s get this put together,” I said, picking up one of the particle board slabs they’d been working on, some kind of shelf.
“What are we going to do without tools?” asked Danny.
“I could help with that,” said Alastair.
We all jumped. Definitely not the best ghosts.
Evie beat me to the question. “What are you doing here?”
“Just checking in,” he replied, looking at me. I had to wonder if he was worried I’d gone off on my own, or if that made a convenient cover for coming to spy on who exactly I had waiting for me.
“Where are the screws?” he asked.
Ren didn’t look all too rattled by the intrusion, coming back from the kitchen with a bottle in hand. “Boo, you want some beer, or do you think that’s too unhealthy a coping mechanism?”
Alastair raised his eyebrows, silently mouthing “Boo?”
I shrugged at him, going for shameless, but my blush ruined it.
“I’ve had enough for tonight,” I admitted to Ren. “You mind not having one?”
“I’d rather get to cuddle.”
He put it down and came to make good on his words, sinking down behind me and doing his best to coax me back onto his chest.
Carlos located the small bag of screws and passed them over. Alastair used his hands to drive them into the cheap boards. We gave a round of applause.
Danny picked the instructions back up.
“We don’t need those,” said Alastair.
Several protests spilled from all sides.
“Trust me,” Carlos insisted. “It’s not as simple as it looks.”
“You might think it’s pure logic,” said Danny. “But really, there’s no logic to it at all.”
“You don’t know what you’re dealing with here, old man,” I chimed in.
Ren let go of me so he could grab the instructions, as well as the next piece. Alastair relented, no longer a host, but a guest.
All of a sudden, I noticed the silence. I was about to ask what kind of music to put on—but I got a better idea. As everyone compared and traded parts, like some kind of random board game with big and small and possibly missing pieces, I scooched back out of the circle for some space, and so it wouldn’t be too loud and intrusive when I began. I needed some room to be rusty.
It felt silly at first, like playing air guitar. Suddenly, my fingers grazed strings. My first guitar rippled like smoke in my hands.
They all looked up at the twang of my first faltering chord. Then they looked at each other, and with an unspoken understanding, did their best to pretend not to notice. They went back to what they were doing, letting me get back into practice with no pressure.
My next chords didn’t stutter. I played just as smoothly and boldly as I used to do in dreams, like I’d never had the chance to forget. My memory came alive in my hands. Or maybe it was an extension of my soul, once poured into the instrument, and brought back when I needed it. Bared for all my friends to hear.
Wherever he’d gone, I hoped Liam would be listening.