Page 10 of Come Back To Me
Her lips bunch together and she shakes her head. “Really. I’d like you to have all this.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I am. Wait right here and I’ll go get you a bag.” She rushes off to the front and I peer around me, reaching my hand through the shelf and pushing books out of the way until my fingers are fully secured around what I really came here for. Her shoes tap against the floor as she heads my way, and I quickly stuff it into my satchel, taking a step away from the shelf as my hand grips the strap.
“Thanks so much. I could have just shoved everything in my bag.”
“Nonsense. I’d hate for the candles to break or anything to leak. We have these for a reason.” Fingers partly through the loop, she moves the bag closer to me and I take it. I don’t have to fake a smile when I say my goodbyes. It’s the first genuine one I’ve had in a while. And it’s all thanks to the chance that I might not have to miss my husband for much longer. I pat the outline in my satchel as I walk happily to my car, singing “With You” by Ill Niño, thinking about how I can’t wait to dance to it again with Gareth.
“Soon,” I swear I hear someone whisper, and I repeat the word in my head like a mantra on the short drive home.
Soon. Soon. Soon.
I caress the picture of me and Gareth on my dash.
“You’ll be with me again soon.”
Five
Riley
The ritual calls for some things I need that I don’t have on hand, and others I haven’t wanted to touch since before . . . before my world turned upside down.
Rummaging through the side of the closet I’ve been avoiding all this time, I grab Gareth’s favorite hoodie and inhale the comforting smell. His fading scent clings to my nose, and I rub my face along the soft, worn-out material. This should work. It’s something he wore a lot. Probably the only piece of clothing that hasn’t been washed since before the accident. Pulling back the hood, I smile when I find a loose strand of hair latched onto the fabric. It said three strands, though, so after setting the hoodie on the bed, I dig in the bathroom sink cabinet, taking the rest that I need from his brush.
Everyone said to box all his belongings up, that it would make things easier not seeing them every day. That would meanhaving them gone forever, though. The thought alone has my skin crawling. I wasn’t ready to let everything go for a reason—deep down I knew he’d need it all again.
Putting the hair inside a Ziplock bag, I press the top tightly together and shove it in my pocket. The book is still open on my pillow, but I’m still lacking five items. Flowers blooming in the front yard is what I’m using for something from the place I want him to return to. I add pictures of the both of us when we were at our happiest to the pile, along with a knife, red spray paint, and white tapestry candles.
What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s all for nothing? I’ll feel like I’ve lost him all over again, grieving the second chance we could have had together.
I can’t think about that. I have to stay positive, believing in the spell. Believing it will work. He’ll come back. Either tonight or tomorrow, he’ll knock at that door, and I’ll never have to think of the day of his funeral again. Seeing him take his last breath will no longer hurt me. It’ll be like it never happened. It’ll be like nothing but a bad dream. The loud thud of dirt and roses on the casket. The obituary talking about him in past tense. My feet wishing they were sinking into the same dirt he was being covered in. All of it.
I toss everything in my bag, ignoring my phone when Leo calls. I don’t feel like lying to him right now. I’ll have to do it a lot after Gareth comes back. It’s going to suck keeping something this big from him, but he can’t know I brought my husband back from the dead. No one can. He’ll have to stay hidden until we can either come up with a good explanation for why he’s alive again after everyone attended his funeral or we have enough money saved up to leave town.
The second option will likely be the one I choose. Nerves twist at my stomach and I sling the bag over my shoulder, looking at the picture of us on our nightstand one last time before exitingthe house. It’s a full moon out. There’s a small chill in the air. It’s a nice break from all the hot days we’ve been having.
I toss the bag in the trunk and look back at Gareth’s bike. My mom kept telling me to sell it. Leo agreed it would help with some of the debt. The donations from family and friends only helped so much. He didn’t have life insurance. He didn’t think it was necessary when I suggested it to him after reading about a widower who wished his husband had had it before unexpectedly passing.
“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Stop trying to get rid of me,” he said multiple times, shooting me that wink he did whenever he was in a playful mood. I had that bit of him again in his final days. I wish I’d cherished it more. I wish I could go back in time and relish it all.
A honk from down the road snaps me out of my thoughts, reminding me of what I’m supposed to be doing. This is it. I’m doing it. I’m going to do it. Once I get in the car and I’m only minutes away from the cemetery, I know there’ll be no going back.
“White Wedding,” by Billy Idol blasts out of the speakers when I turn on the radio. The loud music helps quiet my mind, lending me some distraction until I’m pulling into the parking lot across from the cemetery. Parking any closer may ring some alarm bells. The candles and whatever I’ll be chanting will be calling enough attention to me as it is.
I get out of the car, heart racing as I shoulder my bag and snatch the book from the back seat. Sucking air through my teeth, I look around as I scurry across the street. Luckily no one is visiting anyone here aside from me. No graveyard workers in sight either.
It doesn’t stop the knots from forming in my stomach, or the hair rising at the back of my neck. I reach Gareth’s gravestone, clutching the book tighter to my chest as a chill tingles down myspine. There’s a heavy sensation weighing on my shoulders as I lower myself to the ground. Perching myself on my knees, I lay the book down open once I’ve flipped to the spell I’ll be using. My fingers trace the old pages, my throat tightening as I read some of the words in my head.
I jump when a cat scurries over my lap, meowing while looking back at me with yellow eyes. A black cat. Is that some kind of omen, a warning or something? Or is that only when one crosses you on the street?
Superstitions were never something I followed, but my mom was full of them growing up. According to her, I’m already destined to have bad luck for seven years after accidentally dropping her travel mirror and shattering the glass. Shaking my head, I chuckle to myself. I miss her sometimes. I moved away from all my family because of school and stayed for love.
Neither she nor my dad showed for the funeral. They both came up with different excuses. They didn’t approve of me living so far away or getting married at such a young age. Well, my dad was more against me marrying a man, but he’ll tell others that isn’t true. He can lie to everyone else all he wants but I’ve always known the truth. My mom said he’d come to accept me as gay over time . . . it would have been nice if it had happened while Gareth was still here.
If this doesn’t work, he won’t have to accept me ever dating the same sex again, because there will be no one after Gareth. He was so close to moving on from me so easily, and yet here I am, still completely pathetically lovesick over him.
He was my person. My everything. And I found another spell while randomly flipping through the book—in between meal prepping for the week—that will guarantee I’ll be all he ever needs too. The only one on his mind. The only one who’ll ever matter until the end of both our days.
