Page 11 of Come Back To Me
Running my finger down the instructions, I dump everything from the bag and spray a symbol on the grass, carefully copying it from the page. I light the candles, setting them in the circle, and lie the hoodie over the center of the grave. The dirt is soft against the tips of my fingers, and I wipe them on my jeans before I finish setting everything up. The photos are randomly spread out. I look down at one where he’s pulling me into his arms.
Soon.
The more I believe in the ritual, the more power I give it, and the more power I’ll give the spirit I’m summoning to help keep my husband inside his body longer. He’s not strong enough to come back all on his own. He’s still in there, though. I can feel him from where I’m leaning, only a few barriers standing between us.
“Come back to me,” I whisper, my heart pounding so loudly I can feel it in my fingertips and toes.
Yanking the knife from my pocket, I hold it over my finger, chanting the first two lines. The candles flicker, the wind making an almost screaming sound around me. I take a breath and continue, saying the next words louder while pricking my skin with the blade hard enough to draw blood. It drips into the center of the circle, and I swear I see the ground moving. The candles sink into the dirt, their small flames wave faster, and I squeeze more of my blood over the circle, calling for the spirit needed to complete the spell.
“I call for you,” I say to the sky with my hands lifted. “I call for you to give this body life again, and in exchange I give you a doorway that’ll land you back with the living. I give you my blood and anything else you’ll need from me down the line. I’m forever in your debt.”
I don’t know who I’m calling to exactly, but he knows. His presence is so heavy, and I can feel it all around me, playing with the air I breathe.
“Come back to me, Gareth. Come back to me.”
I repeat the spell several times, not stopping until the book shuts on its own and the candles burn all the way down to the wick, blowing out at the same time.
The night’s darkness is thick around me, like a second layer of skin. Leaning back, I close my eyes and breathe in the scent that once had me wearing my husband’s shirts after him and spraying his cologne in every room whenever I was home alone, waiting for him to walk in the door and replace it.
“Gareth,” I breathe. “Are you here?”
A loud cry of the air echoes around me, the wind picking up in quicker sweeping motions. I look at his headstone and pocket some of the dirt to lay in the front of my house. Lightening cracks above me, thunder booming in the sky right behind it. I hurry and collect everything into my bag and rush back to the car as rain pours hard over me.
Soaking wet, I slip into my car after tossing my bag in the back. As I’m ringing the water from my hair, I glance in the mirror, and something moves in the back seat. I turn around, panic tugging at my chest, but nothing’s there. I take a breath and blink hard, shaking my head. I laugh, pulling out of the parking lot and hitting play on the playlist Gareth made me on Valentines Day. He was all about the meaningful gifts. The ones that were made with love and time versus the kind bought with money.
I loved that about him. Did he do those things for the man he was falling for behind my back? Pain spreads through my chest as I drive slowly down the road leading me to the highway. A shadow lingers at the back window and I’m five minutes frommy house. My eyes keep bouncing between the dark figure and the road.
I don’t know who or what it is, but I try to make myself feel better by mouthing to myself, “It’s all part of the process.”
If it is, I don’t want to do anything to disturb it, so I focus on other things as best I can. The laundry I need to catch up on, the bath I’ll need to soak in to get rid of the putrid smell of the dirt I was touching and sitting in. I was surrounded by death everywhere there. It was in the air, the ground, and in the whispers of the moving trees.
When I’m finally back home, I look in the review mirror and the back window is clear again. Nothing is reflected in any of the others either or waiting for me anywhere around the house as I step out of the car. I leave my bag behind, shoving a hand into one of my pockets. I gather as much dirt as I can and some slips through my fingers before it can be sprinkled around my front porch. I flip my pocket inside out, getting the rest out with a slap of my palm.
“Please come back to me,” I say again. “I need you, Gareth. I need you so much.” I look up at the crying sky and smile when I see more bright light flash across it, telling myself it’s him letting me know he’s on his way.
Six
Riley
I fell asleep in the tub last night. I open my eyes wider, rubbing at the crick in the back of my neck. My legs cramp and I stretch them out in the cold, murky water. I was so tired, I could barely hold my eyes open as I filled the tub and stripped out of my clothes. I’d planned to set out Gareth’s favorite jeans and a band shirt for him to wear when he gets back, but I didn’t ever make it out of the tub to do any of that.
Rubbing at my eyes, I yawn and grip at the edges with my fingers to pull myself up. My legs shake a little, my balance a little off as I step onto the cold tile. Grabbing a towel from the rack, I flinch at my reflection. My eyes are red, face pale, and hair sticking up in every direction.
I can’t look like a mess when he sees me again. He needs to see all the good sides of me. The parts that led to him approaching me to begin with. We met at a bookstore. He pretended to belost and I played along, showing him where the self-help book section was. That was the week he learned to crochet a granny square to prove to me he really went there looking for a pattern book. It was very wonky with so many uneven holes. I still have it. I keep it in the top drawer of my nightstand with all the other handmade stuff he’s made me over the years.
It turned out he’d seen me through the large window of the coffee shop across the way on several occasions and finally found the courage to talk to me. He was such a nervous mess, and I smile at the memory while flattening out my hair with my fingers.
I splash water on my face and squirt eye drops in my eyes. After brushing my teeth and shaving my five o’clock shadow, I pinch my cheeks to bring color into them before hanging up my towel.
Goosebumps cover my skin as I walk into my room completely naked, and my teeth chatter on the way to my closet. I look at Gareth’s side and then mine, grabbing the jeans he used to say he loved me in. I pair them with a yellow sweater and my white Converse. A loud thud comes from the kitchen, and I quickly peek my head out my door. “Gareth?”
The book didn’t say when he’d come back. It did however mention that if too many days passed without his return, to repeat it until it works. Until he’s finally here. I don’t know how many times I can go back to that cemetery and sit above where his dead body rests. It was so hard to get there the first time and have my hands touch the dirt that separated me from his casket.
My breaths shorten and they grow painful when I don’t hear anyone respond. Was I too hopeful? Is another day needed for him to be reacquainted with his body again?
I step all the way into the short hall, straightening the pictures of us on the wall as I head to the kitchen. “Anyone there?”
No response. I circle my gaze around the connected living room and stare back to where my open bedroom door is. He’s not here. No one is. The house is a little on the older side and comes with random creaks in the floorboards, so it was probably just the heat turning on.
