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“What the hell happened to us?” Jamie asked.
I let out a loud snort. Not from the wine—hell, one glass was nothing for me these days. My reaction stemmed from the very idea that Jamie would ask that question. Based on our past, did he really think anything more positive would be in our future?
“What do you mean… what happened?” I asked, sitting up and reaching for the empty cup. I walked over to the wine bottle I’d left on the counter and poured myself another glass. “I’d offer you a drink, but I dunno how they do it in heaven.”
“You keep calling it that name.”
“Yeah… and?”
“For someone who is self-sabotaging her life… hearing you say heaven sounds highly optimistic.”
“Self-sabotage?” Another laugh escaped my lips as I slid back down to the floor where Jamie had remained. “Oh, Jamie, I thought you got the memo? Do I have to be any more direct? My physical body may still be kicking, relatively healthy and all… but my soul, or whatever the fuck it is, has been dead a long time. I’m not self-sabotaging. I’m already gone.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Oh yeah?” I dumped a mouthful of wine into my mouth and swallowed. “My longest conversations are with a dead man. Fuck. Maybe you’re here to collect me or something? Well, just let me finish the rest of my words for this book first. Then, I’m all yours.”
Jamie’s dark eyebrows slanted in a frown.
“I’m not here to collect you, Jemma. I’m here to save you.”
“Yeah, well. Who’s saving you?” I asked. “You don’t seem any different than before in some ways. You’ve died. Obviously gone to a better place. And you still won’t talk about your life with me.”
“Just because you die… doesn’t mean you’re suddenly a different person. You still have the same demons to work through.”
“Yeah, well, why’d they send you to help me then?” I asked, voice a lot sterner than I’d intended.
I could feel a shift in the energy then. Everything grew as chill as the room. I hugged my knees to my chest, nearly choking on the rest of the wine as I threw it back. Jamie groaned as a glass—a real wine flute, that is—materialized out of thin air. Slowly, he sipped the liquid, sighing repeatedly in between sips.
“Good question,” Jamie finally said, answering my previous statement. “Whydidthey send me? Truthfully, I don’t know. They don’t always tell you why they do anything at all. It doesn’t matter why. The real question is… can I actually help you? Me. The guy who we both know didn’t always do the right things.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d already told Jamie he hurt me. He probably knew it back then, too. Still, a part of me felt nothing but sadness hearing him say he didn’t know whether he could actually help me. Like I was a lost cause. Like he’d already given up.
His eyes narrowed as he glared at me, his glass of wine still nearly full.
“I see you became a huge drinker,” I said sarcastically. “Like you were saying earlier.”
“Danielle,” he said, ignoring me.
“Huh?”
“Her name is Danielle. The girl I dated…”
“Oh. I got’cha. Danielle. Where’d you guys meet?”
“Safeway. She is… was… a cashier,” he said, scratching his arms like his skin could actually still itch. He took another sip of his wine, then tossed the glass the same way I had thrown my cup. Unlike mine, however, his disintegrated into little sparks of light before burning away the same way you might see with fireworks as they faded away during their final moments.
Jamie mirrored my actions now, hugging his knees against his body, and he let out a loud breath. “We had a long history of breaking up, getting back together, and then breaking up again. It went on for years. Until she finally gave me a goddamn Dear John letter.”
“A Dear John letter?” I asked, eyes squinting. “Did you go away or something?”
“Nope. Worse. They had me on register one winter, covering because we had a lot of people coming in to buy, you know, eggs and milk. Snow does that, FYI. Brings in people for the most random of things because they think it’s the end of the world.” He stared off into the space in front of us, like he could see the events unfolding as we spoke. “Danielle decided this was the perfect opportunity to give me a letter. ‘Do Not Open Until Break.’ Bright red letters on the outside envelope. Of course, I opened it anyway. Right then and there.”
“And?”
“And… she had detailed a list of pros and cons for us being together. The cons outweighed the pros, she wrote. Even though, as she put in the letter, I was a nice guy and all.” He stopped, a look of major discomfort flashing across his expression. He gazed at me with piercing blue eyes. “I have to tell you, it might not look like it… but… talking about my life is hard for me. It always has been.”
“You’re okay, Jamie,” I said, trying to be supportive. “Just finish the story. You know, more than anyone else, I understand how it feels to be uncomfortably exposed.”
