Page 42 of Come Out, Come Out

I scoff, but my curiosity gets the better of me.July 19th.

Of course, you’re a cancer.

Don’t think you’re getting out of this.

Fine. June 6th.

Once again, I really hope I’m wrong about my suspicions of how this all works. I would love to spend his birthday with him.

Hey, get out of your head. I’m not going anywhere. And this, right here, with you, is all I need.

February 8th, 2022 - One and a Half Months Later

As difficult as it has been for me to admit to myself, the last few months with Aiden have been some of the happiest of my life. Feeling seen is addicting. I don’t even try to fight my growing dependency, I throw myself into it, not caring what the cost will be. I get my fix when we divulge our secrets between the pages. Between work, our hours of sharing our thoughts on paper, and more masturbation than I ever thought possible, it becomes the foundation of our new normal. And for a while, it was enough. I’ve taken everything he can give me and I’m grateful for it, but at some point, like every addiction, it was no longer enough. Hunger for a bigger fix begins to gnaw at the edges of my contentment until it’s infected with this insatiable need for more of him.

My brain has started demanding even more and it has me thinking about the future. In any other context, the alarm bells would tell me it’s way too soon, but our circumstances are anything but conventional. I already know how Aiden feels; he wants to be with me, despite the obstacles that are clearly in our way. And I want to be with him too, but I also want more.

Would you die for me?I scrawl the question across the page and turn my notebook slightly toward where the indent of Aiden sits just to my left.

I’m already dead.The letters are unsteady, confused.

Right, but theoretically?

Yes.Aiden writes without hesitation.

I take the answer for the reassurance I need and file it away, then change the conversation to his family. I want to know more about his sister.Do you think Becca is like you?

Aiden follows my lead, giving me the intimacy I crave.I don’t know. Part of me wishes that she was still in this world, but the other part of me wouldn’t wish this existence on anyone. I’m lucky to have found you, Skye.I wait for what feels like forever for him to elaborate.If she’s alone, if she’s not able to reach out to my parents or anyone else, then I hope not.

We sit in silence while I mull the weight of his words over. I should change the subject to something happier but now that we’ve started down this path that my train of thought has led me down so many times, I can’t help myself. Apprehensively, I scribble the question I can’t hold back anymore.

Is this enough for you?

When he doesn’t answer immediately, I worry he won’t respond at all, but then he writes,Yes. I’ll take anything I can get with you.

It’s a reminder of how fleeting my own happiness is. Must I ruin everything? Can I not be grateful for what I do have? My frustration distracts me enough that it takes me a minute to realize he’s written something else. I tilt my head to read the slanted letters.Is it not enough for you?Do you not want to be with me?His fear thickens the air around us.

Of course I do. All I want is to be with you, butI want more.Once or twice a year isn’t going to cut it. I don’t want to be without you.

We don’t know it’ll always be this way.He responds stubbornly.

I do. It’s time to fill him in on my suspicions.You only get to be here in your . . . body . . . on Friday, the 13th.

Are you sure?

Yes.I scroll back to March 13th, 2020 on my phone’s calendar and show him the dates.

The truth sits between us for several moments, but he finally writes,What are you saying, Skye?

I want to be with you.All the time.He knows me enough to know what I’m saying, but I understand his apprehension, so I spell it out for him.I want to become a ghost, too.

No.The letters are thick. Even in the dim light of my bedside lamp, I can see that the paper is nearly torn through.

I’m ready to die, Aiden.I let out a sigh like I’m trying to explain something obvious to a child.My entire life has been leading up to this. I’m not asking for your permission.

The bed shifts and then a faint chill that I have to concentrate to register brushes my arm. Months ago, it would have frozen me in fear. Now, I crave these moments. I watch expectantly as letters form one by one on the open page.

Please just wait until I can be there with you. It’s only a few months.

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