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I slammed back a couple of Paxil, jerked out the open bottle of Zinfandel in my fridge, and washed the goddamn pills down. Jamie eyed me like I’d just done some irreversible harm to my body, and I narrowed my eyes.
“What?” I asked.
“How many years have you been taking those?”
“Fifteen years now,” I said, placing the wine bottle back in the fridge before slamming the door shut.
“And… they’ve never taken you off that stuff?”
“Nope. Never,” I said. “Believe me… you learn to love feeling nothing.”
I stared at the stove top. I’d placed a tall-sided, stainless steel pot (about halfway full of water) and a smaller saucepan on the stove. At least Dave had left me with a few kitchen essentials. Next to that, I’d laid out a box of pasta, vineyard tomatoes, tomato paste, a slicing knife, and a piece of garlic on the counter.
“So, how’re we gonna do this?” I asked. “I mean, I know how to cook and everything but…”
“Of course you do. I can honestly bet that you’re better at this than me… however… you’ve never had a ghost cook for you before.” Jamie hip-butted me, a grin spread across his face beneath tired eyes. “So… watch the master ghost-chef and learn how it’s done!”
Despite his amused tone, the darkened glow around his aura showed how drained he was after the events of earlier.
The music from the jazz album we’d started to play drifted into the room. To the beat of the tune, Jamie swung me in front of him and placed his arms slightly above mine which glowed translucently, allowing me to see my own skin through his essence. A light, jittery feeling danced across my skin at his near touch. Like I could feel our energy pulsing together.
“This is how we’re going to do this,” he said.
“With your arms hovering over me?” I joked.
“No. Like this. Just… relax and let your arms hang loose.” He demonstrated by allowing his arms to fall lifelessly over mine, like dead weight.
I allowed my arms to hang limply by my body, the tips of my fingers lightly touching the handle-bar which ran along the oven. A moment later, tiny electrical pulses buzzed along my arms, shooting an insane amount of happiness up into my chest. I’d been taking Paxil long enough to know it wasn’t from the drug.
It almost felt like I was at the chiropractor—something I had done years ago—and I had those electrical muscle stimulation pads on. Except this sensation crept all over my arms.
“I’m energy, Jemma,” Jamie whispered. “We’re all energy. When your body grows old one day, you’ll shed it…just like I shed mine… and end up in exactly the same form as this.”
My fingers began to wiggle on their own, and I jumped.
“What…” I asked. They wiggled once more. Then stopped.
“I’m doing this,” he said. “Don’t be scared. I can stop, if you want me to. But it’s only me.” My fingers moved on their own again. My hands did little circles along with Jamie’s. I had no say in which direction my own goddamn hands were moving.
“What the fuck,” I said, though I was more curious than scared. Jamie said he would stop if I wanted him to, and everything felt safe. So, fear didn’t cross my mind.
Still on their own, my fingers moved to the beat of the piano from the jazz music, playing an invisible keyboard across the air. Jamie had stepped back, far away from me now, and yet my fingers and arms continued to dance to the beat of the music. Without me moving a damn thing.
I let out an amused laugh.
“What are you doing exactly?” I asked. “How is this happening?”
“In the spirit world, things work differently. I can manipulate energy without actually touching said energy. Specifically, I can manipulate your energy because you’re allowing me to do so.”
“Jamie… why did you never do this before?” I asked.
“There had to be a level of trust between us,” he said. “And I could never have done this without you allowing me. We’re both changing, Jemma. We’re both letting each other in… in ways we’ve never let any other person in.”
A smile crept across my face, marveling at the truth in his words.
He nodded his head in the direction of my moving hands which now struck the imaginary piano keys at a more abrupt pace. I remained in awe, watching my fingers dance all on their own. Jamie’s hands mirrored mine from the corner where he now stood.
“I didn’t know you could play,” I said.
