Page 118 of Ghostly
Life was a singular experience, whether as a proper human or a ghost.
Thankyou, Gabriel. And sorry, Shawn—I did want to watch at least one more chess gamewith you.
Ida took a deep breath and smiled at the contract as the word disappeared from the page.
Chapter 28
He was back.
Thanks to a four-hour delay due to an accident on the freeway, and the general slowness getting out of the city, it had taken Gabriel the night to reach Buttons. He’d drank three coffees and spilled one, and based on his reflection in the rear-view mirror, he looked primed to be put on a cornfield to scare away the crows.
But more than anything else, he was afraid.
The shimmering feeling was long gone, but the paralyzing fear remained. Was it what he’d thought, the Passing Through contract finally realizing itself, or was it only a similar feeling, born of him shedding his old life?
If it was the first, was Ida gone already? Did she pop out of existence the moment he’d forgiven Wynona and Anderson, or was she allowed to wait, leave whenever she wanted? Would she still be waiting?
His chest felt too tight to breathe as he swung the gate aside and ran to the front door of the old Victorian. She would’ve left, wouldn’t she? They said their goodbyes. If she was suddenly free, she’d leave.
He slammed into the door, not entirely on purpose; his legs just weren’t functioning the best at the moment. He supported himself by leaning on the door, and knocked. “Ida!”
Gabriel knocked harder, used both hands, continued screaming her name. If she was still here, would she push the door open? Or ignore him?
Maybe there’s no response because she’s no longer here.
“Ida! It’s me, Gabriel!” He pounded on the door again. “Oh, fuck this.” He steadied himself, moved as far back as the porch would allow, and slammed into the door with all his force.
Three tries and a lot of wooziness later, he succeeded.
He nearly fell into the hallway, preventing his fall by grabbing the edge of the console table. He straightened up and, for a few seconds, only listened for any sound he could hear through his elevated heartbeat, rapping somewhere between his throat and middle ear.
“Ida?”
Nothing.
He checked the deer-hog statue; nothing. Living room—no Ida on the couch, TV, nothing, the books—where have all the books gone? Gabriel swept the empty bookcase as if expecting they’d turned invisible. Shit—the contract, he’d left it here! Was it gone, too? If someone had destroyed it before now, would it still have worked?
But then he would’ve seen Ida. Or he would, if she let him.
“Ida, please. It’s me. Show yourself.” He checked the vase; no humming. What else? The backyard. He threw a glance through the window; no movement. Into the kitchen—the oven, the microwave, the fridge, bowls, plates—god, was it dirty in here—nothing.
“Ida. I’m sorry. I never should’ve left.” He walked back into the living room. “Please, come out. I only want to talk.” And this time, tell her everything as it truly was. No more pretending. He didn’t care if she was a ghost. And as long as she felt the same—with no lies, none of that ‘you deserve better’ mumbo-jumbo, he’d make her see that even a difficult existence by her side was worth more than the best life without her.
“Please.” His arms fell limp by his side; his voice broke, and he bowed his head. “Say you’re not gone.”
“Gabriel?”
He whipped around, the dizziness forgotten in a second as he saw her.
Ida.
As if he just got dipped into the richest, blackest coffee, energy and light spread through his body. So many times he’d seen her stand in the doorway, with that same coiffured hair and same proper, rust-colored dress, hands clasped in front. He thought he never would again.
But she was still here, and Gabriel’s heart sang.
That is, it did the first few notes, until he realized something was different.
Ida stepped forward.Stepped, not glided. Her feet moved as if they were in proper touch with the ground; her skirt waved around her boots, and the floor creaked under her steps.
