I opened my eyes and gasped for air, wrenching my hand from hers and clutching at my bare chest. I felt for my beating heart. I felt for the expansion of my lungs. Then, relieved, I laid my hands over my face and felt the wetness of my tears.
“Baby,” Andy said, reminding me that she was also still alive. She sat up and ran her fingers through my hair. Soothing. Calming. “Baby, you're okay. We're okay.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It's not okay.”
“But death is okay,” she insisted, pressing her hand to my cheek. “When you let go of your body, you're free.”
“Andy!” I shouted, my voice sharp with panic. “Stop!”
I looked at her naked body. Long, blonde hair draped over her breasts. Legs bent at the knees, crossed at the ankles. She looked like an innocent woodland faerie, with her pert nose and big, round eyes. The only things that gave away her innocence were those eyes. Devious, black pupils, surrounded by a thin, icy ring of blue. She was so crazy, fucking beautiful. And she gave me the chills.
“You're afraid,” she whispered.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I'm fuckin' afraid. I don't like this shit.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?”
I looked away from her, acutely aware that my high was fading. “I don't believe in that shit. You know that.”
“But what if you're wrong?”
“I'm not.”
She sighed, curling her lips in a small, sad smile. “Oh, Vinnie ... you don't know how wrong you are. You're so wrong. The world is so loud, all the time, with all their noise and faces. You can't hear it, not you, but baby, I—”
“Andy!” I bolted from the bed and grabbed for my sweatpants.
“You're mad at me,” she stated quietly.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. But I told you, I don't like this shit and I don't wanna talk about it. So, I,” I bent over her to press a kiss to her forehead, “am going to take another hit, while you,” I moved my lips to her mouth and kissed her there, “are gonna pack your shit.”
She smiled and nodded, but that touch of sadness moved to her eyes and there it stayed. “Okay, baby. Cut one for me, too.”
***
“I know I've met your family before but I'm so nervous,” Andy said, sitting behind the wheel. “This feels more serious.”
“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but we're pretty serious.”
She rolled her eyes toward me for a split second. “I know that. But like, spending a weekend at your brother's house ... That's practically a commitment.”
“It's not that big of a deal,” I laughed, reaching out to mess with the radio controls.
“Oh, really?”
“Nope.”
“Okay,” she said, challenge in her voice. “Then, tell me. How many women have you taken to stay with your family?”
“Oh, come on. I can count on two fingers the amount of women who have ever met members of my family, and you're one of 'em.”
“And I'm the only one you've ever invited to stay overnight, right?”
“Yep.”
She reached across the car and swatted my arm. “See! This is like, really serious! We might as well be getting married!”
I chuckled quietly, while also imagining the two of us, standing together at an altar. Warmth spread across my chest and nestled in my belly. “You're ridiculous,” I commented softly, as I wondered how she'd feel if we were, actually, getting married.
“I'm so nervous,” she complained, gripping the wheel. “God, I really wanna get high.”
I snapped out of the reverie of wedding bells and faced her. “Andy, I told you, we cannot do that shit at Zach's place. He can't know about it, do you understand? We can't make him suspect a fuckin' thing.”
“I know, I know,” she said, tapping her fingers against the wheel erratically. “I'm just saying, I wish I could, you know? Just to take the edge off a little.”
I hadn't thought about it before, but now I realized that I was afraid of why my brother wanted us to come up to his place. Our weekends together were usually so informal and casual, and nobody needed an invitation to come hang. But this had been a phone call from Zach, cordially inviting us to his place for a barbecue, along with his in-laws and our sister's family. My imagination was pretty set on what this was all about, assuming it had something to do with fertility clinics and babies, and I found that I was anxious, too.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” I muttered, reaching out to take her