Page 70 of After Life
He nodded, rolling it gently back and forth between his fingers, watching it as he spoke. “I felt the start of one of the spells as he was passing the joint to me and I took a hit automatically, you know?”
“Be rude not to,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And it helped?”
He nodded. “The feeling just sort of faded. It wasn’t one hundred percent gone, but it kept it from getting beyond just that unsettling sense of dread I get before a spell, and I didn’t seize.” He finished the joint, fishing in his sleep pants pocket for an Altoid tin to drop the roach in. “When I felt another one brewing a bit later, I asked Harrison for another joint. Same thing. It dulled it down enough that I didn’t have a full-blown episode, and I’m still functional.”
I nodded, leaning against his arm as we watched the grim group leave the convenience store and move as a flock toward the other end of the block where a crosswalk waited, leading to a bus stop. “Where were you when all of these happened? That’s... Christ, Ez. Six? Six? In less than two weeks?”
“New Orleans,” he chuckled darkly. “More ghosts per square inch than anywhere I’ve ever been. I can only imagine how you’d handle it. Lucky for me, I just got all of their feelings, good, bad, and indifferent.” He cut a glance my way, a tiny smile curving his lips. “I used to think my empathic abilities were pants, you know? Like a weak version of yours.”
“Ez—”
“Lemme finish, Ozzy. I’m having a moment here,” he said, that small grin flashing into something larger and more amused for a moment. “Anyway. Where was I? Right, being shit. So. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been self-pitying, you know? My abilities, they’re not flash. They’re not something people much care about, really. Oh, Gran’s ghost is vaguely upset? Phhht. If you can’t tell me what it is she wants, then fuck off.”
“Ezra, it’s not like that.” I looped my fingers through his and gave a squeeze.
“Not to you, no. But me?” He shrugged. “Lifetime of being told I’m too sensitive, I’m too,” he waved one hand back and forth. “Swishy. Too this or that. And no one to explain these abilities to me, you know? How they work, what to do with them. So, I’ve been riding that train solo.”
“I want to help,” I whispered. “But I’m not sure how. I don’t have experience with your abilities. Mine are anything but empathic. Maybe—”
“It’s okay,” he said, his small smile back in full bloom. “Believe it or not, Enoch was able to put me in touch with someone who might be able to help. And since our world of weirdness is quite small, we already know them.”
Whatever the expression was on my face made Ezra laugh. “No, it isn’t Lisa. It’s her brother, Jesse.”
“And how the hell did Enoch get involved?”
“Apparently,” he finally shifted, resting his head against mine, “he’s been practicing his reach. And bumped into me.”
“Did you tell him it’s rude to go poking about in other people’s heads like that?”
“Honestly, he just said hello, and I nearly had a heart attack since I thought I was hearing voices now. He’s like a golden retriever, isn’t he?”
I smiled at the comparison. “Eager, friendly, a little goofy and somewhat clumsy. Yep, that tracks.”
We fell quiet for a few minutes, both of us riding the gentle buzz of Harrison’s personal stash. Finally, Ezra reached out and tapped my closed laptop. “So, are you going to do it or not?”
“I’m undecided.”
“Liar. You’re very decided but afraid.”
I grunted. “Anyone ever tell you that your perceptiveness is a pain in the arse?”
He chuckled. “Just you, dearest.”
Ezra sat with me while I came up with a short email response to Charlotte, accepting her invitation to meet at her home in Paris in January. “Tell her there’s three of us.”
“I don’t want to overwhelm her...”
“So, who are you not bringing? Me or Julian? Because you’re not going alone.”
“Sorry, Mum,” I muttered, editing the email to mention I’d be traveling with my boyfriend and best friend/business partner.
“Oooooh, business partner! Aren’t I fancy today?”
“Fuck off, Ez.”
He laughed, pulling me in to kiss the top of my head. “Hey, Enoch’s a pretty neat kid, by the way. Oh my god, did I just say that out loud? I’m turning into Grandad!”
I snorted. “It’s the old man weed. And he is. I think I’ve been avoiding him out of some misplaced sense of decorum or something.”
