reason for the silent treatment the whole way back to the apartment.
The second we walked through the door, her entire body went rigid and she headed straight to bed, with the excuse that she was tired. I didn't doubt she was, but there was something else. Something that stopped her from kissing me goodnight. Something that kept her eyes on the floor and not on me. That type of emotional and physical rejection hurt me in a way it shouldn't have, and the second she closed the door to the bedroom, I headed straight to the bathroom.
As I reached up to the top of the medicine cabinet, my hand landing immediately on the prize, I looked into the eyes of my reflection and whispered, “Fuckin' loser.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ANDREA
When I was twenty-three, my parents and I went out to the movies, leaving Willa at home with her then-boyfriend, Eric. We were gone four hours and when we returned home, my dad walked in on Willa having sex—in my parents' bedroom.
I laid in bed at Vinnie's apartment, festering in that memory and the things that had happened at the anniversary party. I wanted to call my sister up and demand she apologize to us for her judgments and accusations. I wanted to remind her of the way her first born had been conceived and ask her how she would've felt if Mer and I had assaulted her with insults and names. But I knew I wouldn't do those things, because I also knew that two wrongs never made a right.
What had I been thinking? I never should've let Vinnie put his hand up my dress. I never should have let things go as far as they had. But I had been tipsy, after drinking a couple glasses of red wine, and the anger I felt toward my family had coupled with the thrill of being caught by them. And yes, it had been exciting in the moment, and yes, it had been good, but at what cost? Would my sisters ever be able to look at us again? Would they ever be able to respect him as the man I chose to be with?
Amid the torture of my self-loathing, there was the perpetual hum of the spirit world, something I had successfully escaped in this apartment for two weeks, until now. Vincent was here, Vincent was watching. He wanted something and needed to pass along a message, but I wouldn't let myself listen. I couldn't. I had issues of my own to handle right now, and maybe that was wrong and selfish of me, but after so many years of making time for the ghosts, I felt I deserved this.
If only he would go away.
I opened my eyes to find him standing at the side of the bed, looming over me. I rolled over to face the other wall, and he followed, moving to the other side. I hated the way he stared at me, unblinking. I hated the way he kept his mouth in a taut line. Other spirits sometimes tried to talk. They tried to hold onto the part of them that was still human. But not Vincent, and it creeped me out.
“Please,” I groaned, rolling my face into the pillow. “Please, go away.”
But, just as I suspected, he remained where he stood and continued to syphon the static into my brain, begging me to listen.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to watch TV, listen to music, fuck Vinnie—something to distract me from the ever-persistent buzzing in my head. I rolled out of bed quickly, still in the dress I had spent way too much money on to sleep in and moved hurriedly for the door. Vincent didn't follow the way I thought he would but instead watched me leave with those unblinking eyes.
“Please, please, please, go away,” I muttered with my back to him. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just ... please, leave me alone.”
I opened the door, praying he wouldn't follow and praying he'd be gone by the time I came back. I moved quickly down the hallway and turned the corner into the living room, to find Vinnie sitting on the couch and leaning over the coffee table.
“Hey, what are you—” I didn't have the question out of my mouth before realizing very quickly what exactly he was doing. “Oh, my God.”
He sputtered as he sat up, rubbing frantically beneath his nose as he coughed. “A-Andy,” he stammered, simultaneously trying to look at me while also