Page 26 of The Ghost of Exes Past

It’s my turn to have some fun. It’s my turn to watch him crumble, and I’m enjoying it more than I expected to, more than I’d like to admit. Trying to keep my face very still, I walk over to lean on the wall beside him, arms crossed, both of us staring out towards the car park.

‘Anyway, it’s part of my story,’ I say, casually.

‘What? But how?’ His voice is higher than usual, whiny almost. ‘You two never got on.’

I shake my head. ‘Well, we didn’t, but then you died, and he helped me … We helped each other through it, actually.’

What I don’t say is that I spent seven days in Jake’s oversized black hoodie that he’d left at my house, the one that still smelled like him; I couldn’t get out of bed or brush my teeth or eat, and Vik started calling to check in, and it helped in a way I wasn’t expecting.

‘This night was the first time I’d smiled,’ I say instead, keeping my voice even. ‘The first time I’d laughed properly since it happened, and it came out more like a bark, it caught me so off guard. I felt guilty about that at first, but then I didn’t, and then one thing led to another.’ I pause. ‘And, well, here we are!’

I turn and look through the window now. It’s just Jake’s mates left, the last hangers-on, polishing off the remaining booze. They’re sitting in a line on the small, raised platform that doubles up as a stage. I watch as younger me swigs from a bottle of prosecco, walks over to Vik, sits on his lap and leans into him. My stomach drops, watching as she swings an arm around his neck and laughs hysterically at something he says. I look so desperate. Such a mess. His mates look on, confused. I turn away. Yeah, I definitely wasn’t doing so well. Why are you making it so obvious, Belles?

Jake turns now and watches as she leans her head on Vik’s shoulder, his arm around her waist, a hand resting on her thigh as he takes a sip from the same bottle.

‘Oh God, Belle, what the fuck? Why—?’ He doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s already running to the grassy patch to the side. I wince, hands flying to my ears against the sound of it. Some things you can’t unhear. A ghost being violently ill is one of them.

Now’s as good a time as any … I reach into my bra and pull out a very slightly warm folded square of marigold paper and the hotel pencil. I smooth it against my thigh and add:

Things I have learned, visit 3:

Grief does not have a system.

Vik was kind to me when he didn’t have to be. That counts.

I was not in my right mind.

Note: Jake threw up. I’m choosing not to take that personally.

Jake groans. His hands are reaching out towards me. I roll my eyes, fold the paper and tuck it away before moving to the side of him. He grabs both my hands.

‘Think to the end of this, please, I’m begging.’ His eyes are glassy.

‘To the end,’ I say, closing my eyes.

CHAPTER TEN

Jake

No. Absolutely not. No!

I lift my hands instinctively, not wanting to touch anything, my legs almost up to my chest, as I feel completely cramped and claustrophobic. I swallow, the back of my throat still stinging.

‘No, you said we were going to the end! Why the fuck are we now in the back of Vik’s car?’

The windows are steamed up and there’s a funk in the air. I can’t tell if it’s old kebab or the smell of my supposed best mate having fucked my ex in here. I pull my T-shirt over my mouth and wipe the window with the back of my hand.

We’re outside Belle’s house. It’s all dark, apart from the hallway light; Belle’s parents must have left it on for her. I think back to the many times I sat in this exact spot in my car, waiting for that light to flick on, Belle appearing at the door, pulling her coat on, before date nights, like she’d forgotten time was a thing.

Next to me, Belle sits with her hands in her lap, picking the skin around her fingers.

In the front, young Belle and Vik sit in silence. Vik is at the wheel, arms outstretched, shirt on with the top four buttons open, chest hair like snakes trying to escape. Next to him, Belle is in a black top, hair loose, and … Wait.

Is this the same night?

I didn’t go to my funeral in the end. Once Gabriel found me, he said I should attend, at least drop by, since it might help. But I wasn’t ready to watch people bury me, didn’t want to watch my mum crying. If I’m being completely honest, I was too scared to leave Gabe’s attic, which is not something I like to admit.

Thanks to Belle, now I got to see part of it anyway. That sign with my name on it, with the sad, limp roses on top, stopped me dead.