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Memories of our relationship flooded my brain. Like a backwards song which rushes into the past, revealing the journey of your life in a manner that shows you the consequences of your actions before the actions themselves. The narrative started with waking up in the hospital after my first suicide attempt, confused by my surroundings. Then rushed backward to Stony Point where Jamie and I had been walking earlier that evening. I saw us, as if a spectator in my own life, walking in winter jackets, gloves, hats, and scarves. Then, he pulled his hand away… then I saw myself reach for him in the first place. Then my mind jumped back, first to a Ouija board, and then a step further, months back, to a school dance.
Suddenly, all I saw was Melissa’s dark, curly ringlets around the frame of her long face. Wearing not her typical leather jacket, but a semi-formal, velvet-colored pencil dress which stopped above the knees.
“You should get the door.” Jamie’s words, which sounded drained, brought me back. His hands fell away, and a space formed between us. He folded his arms over his chest, glancing down at his sandals. As I shut the door, he continued.
“When I said I could hear your thoughts. I should’ve also told you I canseeyour thoughts, too.”
My face whitened.
“What do you mean… you canseemy fucking thoughts, Jamie?”
“I mean… I know where you went just now. I know you thought of us. Of her.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I advanced further into the foyer, throwing my hands into the air. Jamie remained by the now shut doorway. We watched each other as I paced back and forth. A million questions raced through my head…whybeing among one of the biggest ones. He had said initially that he was here to save me. But how the fuck could he be saving a person by intruding in on them, listening to their every thought.
“I can’t help it,” he said.
“You can’t help it?” My voice dripped of irritation. “God! I don’t even know if this is real. No, no, no, no, no. This is just way too much to handle. My dead ex-boyfriend…deadex-boyfriend… he’s here, he can read my mind. He can see my memories. You know what I told Dr. Wiig I wanted to tell you? Fuck, why am I asking! Of course you do!”
I pointed a finger in his direction. “I wanted to tell you… I’m sorry I didn’t ever get to know you. But the truth is? Neither of us knew each other at all. You can’t come waltzing in here, dead or alive, and expect to have access to my every thought and feeling.”
The words poured out of me, like I’d been wound up and ready to release all the frustration I’d never addressed with him in the past. Sixteen years. Sixteen. Yes, him being able to read my thoughts and access my mind pissed me off to the nth degree, but there was more to it than that. I’d yearned to see him again all those months I wrote to dead Jamie, but now that he was actually here? Seeing him brought up all the things he’d done and made my blood boil. His presence made me feel all the negative emotions I buried long ago.
Something about him actually being here sent an icky, frustrated feeling up my spine and left a burning sensation at the back of my eyes.
This was the boy who cared so little, he couldn’t even call me to make sure I was okay after I tried to kill myself. This was the boy who was right there, yet so far away, as I went through some of the hardest moments of my life. This was the boy who knew so little, he had no clue what I was going through on the inside during each and every single conversation we ever had.
I took a deep breath before adding my button to the conversation.
“You don’t have the security clearance for my deepest and darkest thoughts, Jamie. And from my perspective in our story… you never wanted that access. At all. And… fuck… last I heard, Melissa’s still alive. Why not go and haunt her instead of me?”
His chin tilted downward, and I noticed him slightly twitch at the mention of Melissa’s name. It was only at the end of my speech that I watched the way he leaned inward like he was hiding, hugging his arms across his body. He shifted back and forth.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I understand how you feel. But I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”
“Yeah right,” I said. “That’s what they all say.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sixteen Years Before
Large, balloon balls hung from the ceiling across the cafeteria. Purple and cyan uplighting draped across the walls and over the bodies of students. “Let Me Love You” by Mario blasted through the speakers next to us, the bass vibrating through the floor and jumped into my body. As the song continued, my limbs shook along to the rhythm of the music.
“You know, I’ve actually never been to one of these things before.” Jamie smiled, hands dug into his slacks. A blue light lit up his face and the rest of his body, covered in attire I’d never seen him in before. A white, collared shirt with a tie and black dress pants. He smelled of cedar wood and orange blossom.
“Same here.” My arms clung to my sides, against the sequins of my strapless, black dress. Despite the bare feeling, the cafeteria felt as stuffy as it had ever been. Even stuffier than on the busiest of times during lunch.
“You look beautiful,” Jamie said, shifting back and forth.
“Thanks.” My cheeks flushed as I matched his shifting movement, swaying back and forth between each leg.
In the eight months we’d been dating, I’d come to realize the shifting was something he did a lot, like he was perpetually nervous. But tonight—especially tonight—we both seemed extra nervous. We’d been at Homecoming for a good twenty minutes now, and neither of us had yet asked the other to dance.
Because we’re a boy and girl who have been dating for a while… and we’re at a dance together… and usually couples who have been together for a certain amount of timedocertain things that we haven’t done yet…
I swallowed.
One look at Jamie, with his beautiful blond hair and blue eyes, sent a fluttering through my core. I could get lost in him, if I allowed myself to let go, and love every piece of him freely. I imagined being with him, taking off his clothes slowly, and making love to him the way two people in the middle of a romantic montage did so magically.
