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I nod. “Yes.”
He lays my phone back on the nightstand, face down, leaving us in darkness again.
“Can you tell me what it means?”
My heart stutters. “Um… I’m not sure.”
I can feel his gaze pinning me with disbelief. But it’s true, I really don’t know what it means.
“C’mon, Penny. You wrote it. You must know what it means.”
“It’s hard to explain,” I say carefully. “When I was little, I used to draw scenes and write poetry with no idea where the ideas came from. I’d just get these sudden impulses inside that compelled me to bring them to paper. For some weird reason, a lot of them seemed to focus on you and your property.” I let out a quick, anxious laugh. “No wonder you called me your little stalker.”
After a few moments, he folds the poem up and puts it in the front pocket of his shirt. “Obviously, it’s a poem about love. It’s kinda deep for a twelve-year-old, isn’t it?”
I swallow nervously. “Well, poetry is open to reader interpretation…”
“Did you write this about Brianna? For me?” There’s no accusation in his voice. Just pure curiosity.
Did I? My palms are suddenly clammy. Goose bumps pebble my arms.
I think I did write it about Brianna and Alex. Somewhere in the middle, it’s about me, too.
I inhale a breath and do my best to find the words to try to explain it to him, but I come up short. “It means what you want it to mean,” I say instead. “Words are magical like that.”
His lips press together. He doesn’t like my answer.
My shoulders lift. “I think it’s about hope, and finding happiness, and love again,” I reveal. “Maybe I thought you needed that.”
“You thought right.”
“I’m sorry if it upset you. As you said, I was only twelve.”
“It didn’t upset me. It made me wonder…” He stops and shakes his head. “Never mind.”
I touch his arm. “Tell me.”
“Nah. It’s gonna sound crazy.”
“I’m fine with crazy. Tell me.”
He looks out the window into the nothingness of the dark, then back to me. “I wondered if it was a sign from Brianna. Sometimes, you remind me so much of her, but you’re also so different. It’s hard to explain. It’s like she sent you here and made you familiar so I’d know.”
My stomach capsizes. I can’t believe he just voiced the curiosity that’s been living in the shadows of my mind for years. Did Brianna’s spirit send me here to try to make Alex happy? To let him know that she’s okay and she’s watching over him? Is that even possible?
I run my tongue over my lip. “That’s not crazy. I’ve actually kinda always wondered the same thing. That maybe Bri sent me to you.” My voice is a tiptoe between us, testing uncertain ground.
He lets out a laugh that sounds as nervous as I feel. “Who the hell knows, right?”
“Right,” I agree.
The familiar buzzy hum sits in the air between us, accompanying the sound of our breathing.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “I better go to bed. You sure you’re okay? No headache or anything like that?”
Disappointment feathers through me. I was hoping we’d talk more about the possibility of some kind of ethereal connection. Perhaps come to an answer together about why I’ve always been pulled here like a magnet. Something to make me feel less crazy. But I can’t bring myself to coax him any further for fear of upsetting him.
Tread lightly.
“Nope,” I answer. “I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me.”
He stands. “G’night, Penny.”
A last-minute spark of bravery makes me quickly grab his hand. “Wait—can I ask you something?”
“Go for it.”
“I’ve always wondered…why did you want me to stop coming to see you years ago? Was I just too annoying to deal with?”
“How’d I know you were gonna ask me that?” A touch of humor lightens his voice.
“Probably because, deep down, you want to tell me why.”
“You weren’t annoying. I liked having you around.”
“Then why? Did my parents have something to do with it?” I swear, I’ll be so mad if my mom took years of friendship away from me.
“Nope. It was the guys. Mikey and Kelley.”
That’s the last thing I expected to hear. “What?” I squint at him. “I thought they liked me.”
“They do. But they thought you had a crush on me. They said it wasn’t cool for a guy my age to be hanging out with a young girl. They felt like we were too close, which, I guess, was right.” He squeezes my hand. His fingers are so warm. “I’m really sorry I hurt you. I’ve always hated myself for it.”
I suppose all that is better than being so annoying that he never wanted to see me again.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “It totally broke my heart, but I get it now. I forgive you.” I hope he can hear the smile in my voice. He’s more than made up for it by letting me stay here.
