and playfully swatted my arm. “You wanted the truth, so I'm giving it to you.” A twinkle in her eye told me there was still something there, something to hold onto and build from, and I relished the relief in that.
“Please,” I gestured with a hand, “go on.”
Inhaling and turning her gaze to the ceiling, she exhaled like breathing was a chore. “Logan was my second boyfriend and I really liked him a lot. Like, he was the kind of guy I couldn't wait to introduce to my family. He was sweet and so smart, and—”
“So, the opposite of me,” I snorted.
With an enthusiastic bob of her head, she laughed. “Yes! Yes, exactly. And I really tried to make it work with him. We would go out and I would just keep my eyes on the ground, just so I could avoid looking at the freakin' ghosts, and that worked for a little while. But the thing about ghosts is, I'm the only one that can see them. I knew I was ignoring them, but to Logan, it looked like I was ignoring him. So,” she shrugged, folding her arms on the table, “he broke up with me. It was after that I decided I couldn't have a relationship, not with this shit going on, and I spent all my time at the hospital, helping old people and the ghosts that followed them. And in the meantime, I was on the hunt for someone who could help me turn this crap off.”
Pieces clicked into place as I nodded. “So, when you first met me, outside of that show ...”
“I was there to see if she was the real deal, yeah.”
Laughing loudly, I tipped my head back. “So, when you said she was a fraud, you really fuckin' knew she was.”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “And that Tracey chick? She's the real deal?”
Andy nodded affirmatively.
“So, she's helping you turn off your, um, power?”
Shaking her head, she explained, “There is no turning it off. That night we saw her and I told you I'd bumped into an old friend, I was really going out with her.”
A sudden strike of suspicion narrowed my eyes. “Why wouldn't you just tell me you were going out with her?”
Shame crumpled her features as she said, “I just thought it would raise more unnecessary questions, and if she had the secret to turning it off, then there'd be no point in explaining anything. But, when she told me there wasn't a way to stop them, I figured it was inevitable that you and I would fall apart. Then, your dad died and I started seeing him, and you had the drugs ...”
I only hear you when it's quiet. Quiet is good.
“And that turned it off,” I finished for her.
Quietly she nodded, and quietly I accepted that I might have played a hand in her destruction but I wasn't the cause. There was peace in that knowledge, and I exhaled like I'd been drowning in the blame all this time and unable to breathe.
It was an amazing thing, though, when I really thought about it. How all the horrible things in our lives seemed to be so perfectly choreographed, and maybe even designed to bring us here, to this revelation, and to bring us back together.
“When you sent me home, I talked to my dad and told him everything. He said that he would get me whatever help I needed, as long as I didn't speak to you during my recovery. He thought that we would just encourage each other to relapse or something.”
I nodded slowly, feeling a new appreciation for her father. “Smart man.”
“I don't know how he's going to react to me talking to you now,” she admitted uneasily. “But I have missed you so much. Not the drugs or being high. Just you.”
“I've missed you, too.”
She shifted in her seat like she wanted to ask me something but didn't know how to say it, and I waited for her to find the words she needed.
“So, you've been at Jenna's house?”
I nodded, and another heavy pause wedged itself into the conversation, as she studied her hands and the wedding ring she still wore. I wanted to ask what was on her mind but felt I didn’t have the right. The ball was in her court now, and I was resigned to letting her decide the fate of our relationship, despite how much I hoped this would end with us together.