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“Please tell me what year my parents were married,” Jamie repeated.
The planchette performed nearly the exact same motion: moving around the numbers but never landing, then back down, landing on N, and then O, and then T.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jamie said. His face appearing even ghostlier than before. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Watching his reaction, a bell went off inside my head.
“Your parents… they’re not married, are they?” I asked.
Jamie shifted, bowing his head and averting his eyes. Based on his reaction, I knew I was right. I didn’t know what bothered me more. That he couldn’t be open with me, even about something as trivial as his parent’s marital status, or that the Ouija board had actually worked.
Both made me tense for two very different reasons.
“Well?” I asked a little more sternly. “You know it’s not a big deal if they aren’t married, right? I don’t get why you’re being so weird about this.”
“Engaged. But never married,” he said softly. “You won’t mention that to anyone, right? I didn’t think this motherfucker would be right. Ugh, maybe I subconsciously pushed and—”
“Seriously, what does it even matter, anyway, if I told anyone?”
“No, I mean. They don’t like to talk about it. They don’t like any of us talking about it. I guess it’s not a big deal. It’s just… I don’t know. Kind of awkward to talk about?” He shrugged. “Eh. Nevermind. What am I saying? I know people who only have one parent. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“Yeah. It sounds like it.” As the words left my lips, I thought of Dad and how my parents had once been happily married. How we’d once been a happy family. How I’d once been one ofthe lucky ones,as Jamie had put it. It didn’t matter though. No piece of paper could stop the bullet from going through Dad’s ear and straight through the insides of his brain.
Jamie was right. He was one of the lucky ones. He had two parents who were still alive.
His eyes grew sharp, assessing me.
“It’s your turn, Jemma. Ask a question.”
“You don’t want to ask it anything else?”
Jamie shook his head, leaving the onus on me.
As much as I wanted to do this—and boy I had a million questions—now that I was here, I didn’t even know where to start. And how would I ask my questions without Jamie catching the drift of my real goal here? He still didn’t know about Dad. I didn’t want him to know about Dad because then, I don’t know, maybe I’d connect with someone on a deeper level than I wanted. I couldn’t connect to Jamie this way. I didn’t trust Jamie.
People were dangerous, I’d discovered.
If my own dad could leave me, why couldn’t this boy leave me, too? This boy who’d disappeared on me too many times to count. Who didn’t even love me.
Nobody loved me, did they?
The only hope I had of connecting to somebody who I remembered clearly loving me lay on the surface of that Ouija board. The bad thing was, if I wanted to connect using this damned planchette, I’d sort of have to breach the secretive thing I had going on. At least a little.
“Please tell me…” I started to say. “Please tell me…”
I stopped, unable to continue because I didn’t know how to phrase my question.
A strange, faintly eager look flashed in Jamie’s eyes. I swallowed, a flush running through my skin. The truth was, I wanted to love Jamie as much as I wanted to hate him. All at the same time
“Now who’s scared?” he asked, smirking.
“I’m sure as hell not scared.”
The only thing I’m scared of… is letting you into my life. Having you know all the dark thoughts which have taken hold of my mind. Because if I let you in… really, genuinely let you inside… then the hurt would be too much to bear.
The hurt already is too much to bear.
I almost said the words, but I remained unable. Throat thick. Insides tight.
