Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
NARDI
In the days that follow, I barely get out of bed.
Mom sleeps in the couch to give me space, which makes me feel even worse. Yet, I don’t think I can make a good enough argument to become roomies again.
Who’d want to room with a woman who bursts into tears for hours a day. A woman who blows her nose like a trumpet? Who clutches her pillow and sobs in the middle of sleep?
I wish I cared, but I don’t.
My entire world is grey.
The days I used to smile and laugh and feel carefree seem like ancient history or a past life. The Nardi I am now can’t bear to film a video or cook a meal or go outside and feel the sun.
Cullen wouldn’t want this. It makes me cry even harder to think my current downward spiral is disappointing him.
The shame makes me hide in bed.
Thus the vicious cycle continues.
It’s difficult watching my mom and brother’s concerned glances every time I shuffle out of my cave to get a glass of water or to use the bathroom. They grimace at how awful I look. Gaunt cheekbones. Sunken, red-rimmed eyes. Disheveled, uncombed hair.
I put Cullen’s ring away and I’ve stopped taking peeks at the mirror just so I don’t have to look at my face.
I should eat.
I know.
But food tastes like dust and I just can’t bring myself to swallow.
Mom got extremely angry last night after she brought in a plate of toast and I left it there, untouched. “We’re not in the apocalypse, Nardi. The world didn’t stop turning. You lost someone, but YOU’RE still here’.
I suppose, in her mind, that was comforting. But in truth, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to learn how to live in a world without Cullen.
Though I knew he was dying, though I’d braced myself for this moment, I’m still woefully unprepared for the devastation. It’s like someone ripped my heart out of my chest and now they’re ordering me to go on living as if nothing happened.
How can I? When something so important is missing from my body?
Sunny and Darrel visit our tiny apartment not long after Whitaker shows up. Mom orders me to get up and greet them when I ask her to send them away. At first I don’t move, but a glimmer of guilt forces me out of bed.
Sunny’s been a consistent friend, calling and checking up on me. On some level, I feel like I owe her at least five minutes.
I throw the sheet off and start moving.
“Wait.” Mom’s fingers dig into my arm. “Wash your face before you go out there.”
I ignore her advice and march to the living room. Darrel’s expression is impassive when he sees me, but his wife can’t hide her surprise.
Sunny blinks rapidly. “Oh, Nardi.”
It’s all she says, but it’s enough to make the tears spring to my eyes again.
Sunny rushes over and gives me a hug. She smells like expensive perfume and lotion. Her fancy gold bracelet digs into me as she wraps her arms tightly around my back.
It’s so strange but, even as Sunny’s holding me to comfort me, I feel an unexplainable disgust. She’s living happily with Darrel. They have so many years together. No wonder she smells sweet. Her entire life is sweet.
I remain stiff in her arms until Sunny gets enough of the hug and steps back. However, she holds both my wrists as if she’s afraid of completely letting go.
“It’s going to be okay. I promise you,” Sunny says quietly.
She can’t make such a promise. The fact that human beings even dare to make vows when their lives can be snuffed out like candles in a storm is laughable. What power does Sunny have to promise me anything?
I step back. “If you’re here to ask about Cullen’s funeral, I can’t plan it,” I say, my voice stuffy from my clogged nose. “Although I doubt I have to. He was so prepared, he probably has everything ready, down to the casket color.”
“Cullen didn’t want a funeral,” Darrel says quietly. “He wanted to be remembered through anonymous contributions to charity and through the passing of his estate to you and Josiah.”
Of course he did. From beginning to end, Cullen’s main concern was his legacy. Is that why he didn’t contact me? Is that why he quietly left this earth without granting me one last chance to hear his voice?
I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing the room wasn’t so bright. All I want is darkness, but there’s still a smidge of light leaking through my eyelids.
Silence rings out.
Cullen is dead.
There’s nothing more to say.
Sunny and Darrel’s footsteps shuffling through the room alert me to their movements. A moment later, I feel Sunny’s hand on my shoulder.
“We’re here for you, Nardi. You don’t have to be strong right now. No one’s asking you to do that. Let it all out. And call me if you need me. I’ll come running over.”
“You can stop by my clinic any time,” Darrel offers in that stiff but kind way.
I nod, unable to speak.
Mom’s hushed voice fills the room as she sees Sunny and Darrel out. When the door snaps shut, I open my eyes and see mom huffing and puffing as she straightens the living room.
“Can’t even put your hair in a bun to greet your guests,” she’s mumbling. “Did you see that fancy lady? Why couldn’t you at least have been presentable?”
Perhaps it’s the fact that I, too, felt inadequate in front of Sunny’s polished appearance. Or maybe I just need to let someone hurt the way I hurt, but I snap.
“Am I supposed to glam up to impress everyone, mom? Am I supposed to throw a parade because Cullen’s dead? What part of this am I doing wrong? Why don’t you tell me?”
Her eyes widening, mom straightens slowly.
“You hated Cullen when he was alive but now that he’s gone, you won’t have any problem spending every last cent he left behind, will you?”
Mom’s face twists into a thunderous expression and she raises her hand. I turn my face, anticipating the heat of her palm stinging my cheek. Anticipating the rush of adrenaline, the thud of my heartbeat, the freedom of feeling something, anything other than this bottomless agony.
But mom lowers her hand and breathes shakily. “You’re not the only human who’s lost someone, Nardi. Cullen was everything to you. I understand that. But you and Josiah are everything to me .” She raises her chin, her mouth tightening with emotions. “Don’t get so lost that you can’t find your way back again.”
“Mom…”
Remorse fills me, but my mother simply wipes her hands against her apron, unties the strings and leaves the apartment.
The sting of her words shake me out of my stupor. I lift my hands and study them, marveling at the fact that I can still feel. My body is so numb, it feels like all my sensations have dulled.
At that moment, I spot mom’s notebook on the counter. She stole a few of Josiah’s empty notebooks ‘to record new recipes’. But now, I wonder if she was telling the truth.
Tiptoeing toward the book, I have a moment of hesitation. I really shouldn’t be snooping around my mother’s stuff. However, I toss that conviction aside and open it.
The first page really is a recipe.
The second page is just a list of grocery ingredients.
I turn to the third page and find another list.
Hm, maybe I was wrong.
I start to close the book when a page drops out. Instantly, I recognize Cullen’s handwriting.
‘Programming For Dummies’
‘How To Learn Programming At Any Age’
‘Why Programming Is a Science and An Art’
“Why did Cullen give this to mom?” I murmur, running my fingers down the page.
The front door opens and mom enters.
She freezes when she sees that I’m holding Cullen’s note.
“What is this?” I lift the paper.
“It’s nothing.” She hurries toward me and slaps the note back into her book.
I stare at her, silently begging to know.
Mom sighs. “After the party, Cullen spoke to me about his hopes for Josiah. He told me that Josiah’s very lonely, and I could see that too. But my son and I speak two different languages. I don’t know how to reach him.”
“So you decided to learn programming?”
Mom lifts her head defensively. “Cullen suggested I learn. It’s all above my head, but I kind of understand how to?—”
I wrap my arms around my mother and hug her close.
Mom stiffens in surprise.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you, mom,” I whisper, burying my face in her shoulder.
Her muscles relax and she pats my back. “I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m nagging or being insensitive. I just want you to be okay.”
“I know.” And though my bottom lip trembles and it doesn’t feel quite true yet, I tell her, “I will be… someday.”
But not today.
For today, I cry and cry and cry until I fall asleep.
After our heart-to-heart that day, mom and I have a long conversation about what happens next. I tell her that I’m not ready to step into the wealth that Cullen left for me and Josiah. She tells me she’s not comfortable seeing me waste away in his house.
We compromise.
I agree to meet Whitaker to find out the next steps of sorting out Cullen’s estate and mom agrees to move into Cullen’s place—for a probationary period. If I can’t handle it and if I continue to show signs of distress, we’re moving out for the sake of my mental health.
The visit with Whitaker happens later on in the month as I’m not strong enough to face Cullen’s last will and testament. I’m actually quite surprised no one has pressured me or shown up to harass me about all the transferred assets. Cullen didn’t seem like the type who’d want to move slowly in that regard.
When I get to Whitaker’s office, he tells me that they’re still evaluating Cullen’s estate and that it would take a little more time. However, he assures me that I can move into Cullen’s house.
Mom, Josiah and I settle in and, while I’d prefer not to change anything, she adds her own decor to Cullen’s living room, adding frilly pillows, picture frames and knickknacks.
She also takes the downstairs bedroom and I don’t fight her on it. Sleeping in the bed that Cullen and I shared is a bit too much for me right now.
Josiah, I think, is the most delighted by the move. He immediately makes Cullen’s computer room his home and I get the feeling that it allows him to feel closer to Cullen that way.
When we first move in, mom hovers around me, waiting for a massive breakdown. And while I do cry and I do miss Cullen, I make sure not to do anything that will prompt mom to start packing.
I talk to Darrel to learn of ways I can healthily handle grief.
One month turns into two.
The probationary period ends and mom admits that we can stay for good.
Two months turn into three.
Although it’s difficult, I take mom and Sunny’s advice and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Though I still haven’t felt up to filming cooking videos, I get back to selling at the food stall. Cooking is my happy place and I do enjoy the routine of meeting people and seeing their excitement over the meal I prepared.
Ebidiah is always there at the food stall. I think he has a crush on mom because he’s ten times more helpful when she’s around. Unfortunately, he’s not mom’s type—what with him being homeless, broke and a drug addict of course.
But I do appreciate having his strength and cheerful attitude. Seeing Ebidiah smiling despite all he’s been through gives me the strength to be a little braver every day.
At month four, I start doing videos again. These videos don’t do as well. Social media moves extremely fast. What was working before my hiatus isn’t working now. However, I’m not discouraged. In fact, I feel uniquely grateful to be in the position I’m in.
Cullen took care of our family so well financially that I don’t have to work my old job or work any job for the rest of my life if I don’t want to. It’s crazy to think that I had the privilege of not doing much of anything except healing for three months straight. Not everyone has such an opportunity and I’m not blind to my blessings.
Since I had time to myself to mourn, to think, and to wallow, I’m in a much better mental place when I do emerge back into the world. I’m ready to handle the ups and downs of marketing my business.
I throw myself headfirst into making fresh content and selling at the stall. Slowly, I gain back the momentum I lost before.
Mom flies back to Belize briefly so she’s not in violation of her visa and then returns in time to help me purchase a commercial kitchen space.
Whitaker, too, is a very involved business advisor. At first, I thought the ‘gifts’ he mentioned were the stove, Cullen’s note, and a laptop Whitaker later provided to Josiah.
Now, I think the present that Cullen intended on giving us was Whitaker himself.
He’s always patient in answering my questions, extremely knowledgeable in business tax, setting up an LLC and all the other preparations I need to run my own catering service.
And he even surprised me by jumping in headfirst in the search for a commercial kitchen space. In less time than anticipated, Whitaker presents me with a list of converted restaurants that perfectly fit my criteria.
Objectively, life is good.
No, objectively, life is way better than it was before.
I have friends now. Sunny is exactly like her name, full of sunshine, sass, and warmth.
She and Darrel finally convince me to visit their farmhouse and I realize that the reason Sunny and her elite group of friends are so wealthy isn’t because they have money. It’s because they have each other.
I click really well with Dejonae, a college-aged music composer and Clarissa, the manager at a non-profit. Clarissa even hires me to cater one of their fundraisers and I’m super excited about that.
My work is another area that’s improved. I no longer slave away at a job I barely tolerate for the sake of paying bills. Now, I get to do what I love. Though it’s hard work balancing both filming and selling from the stall, I truly enjoy cooking.
Another surprise upgrade to my life? Not only do I get to cook, I also get to cook with my mom. That’s another gift from Cullen that I’ll treasure forever.
As I continue to live, smiles come a little faster, the guilt comes a little slower, and I start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Some days, I get through a whirlwind of meetings with Whitaker, filming, sending videos to my editor and I feel completely normal, as if I’ve truly entered a new chapter.
Other days, a memory of Cullen smiling at me or teasing me will fill my head and I’ll feel tears running down my face.
On those days, I reach for my phone and call Cullen. His number is still working, though my calls keep going to voicemail.
I don’t know which poor soul is receiving my messages lately, but they haven’t blocked me yet so I’ve kept going.
“Hi, Cullen,” I say, tucking the phone against my ear, “it’s seven am, and I’m having a cup of tea instead of coffee because my voice is hoarse from crying last night. And no I wasn’t crying because I missed you. Although I do.”
I pause. “I was actually crying from laughing so hard. I hired a video editor last week. He makes my videos ten times funnier with the close ups and the clips of funny videos he inserts. He’s young. Like fresh out of high school, so I don’t understand some of the jokes, but the ones I do understand are hilarious . I don’t think you’d laugh though. You never were the kind of guy to get a joke.”
I smile wistfully as the beep sounds in my ear, warning me that I’m out of time.
I’ve gotten really good at keeping my comments brief, so I end the call by saying, “Every day, it gets a little easier to think about you. And maybe one day, I won’t cry at all. You’ll be happy about that, I’m sure. Just wait a little longer, Cullen. I’ll make your wish come true.”
Mom’s footsteps prompt me to put my phone away and act nonchalant, but she’s already sniffed me out.
“You were talking to Cullen again, weren’t you?” Her eyes narrow.
“Mom, you’ll make me sound crazy going around saying that.” I set my cup in the sink since Ashley’s coming by later and head upstairs.
Mom follows me and watches as I step into the giant walk-in closet in search of an outfit to wear for the board meeting.
“You are going crazy. Don’t think I forgot that little comment you made last week about feeling like someone’s watching you.”
I cringe at the reminder. The truth is, I’ve been getting that feeling more and more lately. At first, it was just a sixth sense, a gut feeling that I wasn’t alone. Then it was the echo of footsteps behind me when I walked to my car from the food stall.
Another time, it was on a rainy day when I was leaving a cafe and I didn’t have an umbrella. I shrugged out of my jacket, intending to hold it over my head and dash out. When I glanced up, I found an umbrella leaning against the door where there wasn’t one before.
The incidents have been spaced out over weeks at a time, and they were coincidental enough that I hadn’t thought much of it.
However last night, I was sure I saw a shadow on the front lawn move in a very human like way. It made my skin prickle and the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I quickly checked the security cameras, but there was nothing out there.
“If you’re that concerned, tell Roger about it. Isn’t he a former spy?” Mom asks.
“Not a spy. Former special forces. And I don’t know. It might just be that I’m paranoid.”
“You know what will make you feel secure?”
“More security cameras?” I offer.
“A nice, strong, strapping young man.”
I groan.
“I met a nice one yesterday at the Caribbean mart,” mom says, watching me intently.
“A nice one? Are we discussing a human being or meat?”
Mom gives me a ‘don’t be a smart-mouth’ look. “He said his mom is Belizean and his dad is Nigerian. Very nice-looking man. Very tall and well-spoken.”
“Are you interested, mama?” I wink at her. “It’s never too late to get back on the horse.”
“That man could be my child.”
“As long as he’s an adult, it’s fine. Age is just a number.”
Mom shakes her head when I put a maroon blazer to my face. She chooses the blue blazer I’d flung away on the bed instead. “You don’t have to marry him, Nardi. Just a little coffee date will do.”
“I’m not interested, mom.”
“How will you know you’re not interested if you don’t even try?” Mom follows me around my room.
“I’m not interested in dating anyone else.”
“But you’ve been doing so well,” mom counts on her fingers, “you’ve been going out with those rich friends of yours. You take care of yourself again. You do your hair and actually shower consistently now.”
“Mom!” I gasp in horror.
“One little meeting won’t hurt.”
I know she’s going to nag me forever if I say no, so I concede. “I’ll think about it.”
Mom grins and finally leaves me in peace to get ready for today’s event. Richard Sullivan invited me and Josiah—as Cullen’s heirs—to see the first demo test for the PLP Project.
Josiah is extremely excited as Roger drives us there. He prattles on and on about the programming that Asad and Dr. Young have done with the rest of the Cullen Tech team.
I’m pleased that my brother is still in the loop with the technicians. They, too, seem to enjoy him and Dr. Young in particular has become somewhat of a grandfather to Josiah.
Their closeness is even more apparent when we arrive at the meeting—which takes place outdoors at a private air strip—and Josiah runs right up to Asad and Dr. Young. He stays with them, watching intently through the entire presentation.
When it’s over, Sullivan gives a speech, mentioning Asad and Dr. Young. The billionaire’s closing remark has me reaching for a tissue.
“Cullen Tech was the dream of a visionary,” Sullivan says. “Someone who pushed through despite the odds. Cullen would have been proud to see this day.”
I brush away a tear, offering my silent agreement.
Sara approaches me during the cocktail portion of the event and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You look good, Nardi.”
“Thanks. So do all of you. How has Cullen Tech been doing?”
“Cullen left big shoes to fill,” she says with a sad smile. “But Asad, Dr. Young and I are determined to see things through. Jenna has agreed to testify about what she did. We’re determined to win this lawsuit. Once, Cullen Tech is granted the patent, this entire nightmare will be over.”
Asad and Dr. Young catch up with me next.
“Did you know we set up a memorial for Cullen?” Asad asks after giving me a tight hug.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t anything too long or traditional. We just put up his picture and had a moment of silence. Cullen wasn’t fussy so he wouldn’t have wanted anything more than that.”
I frown. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have loved to attend.”
“Because I told them to leave you alone,” Josiah says firmly.
I stare in surprise at my little brother.
“Josiah was very protective of you,” Dr. Young agrees. “He said you weren’t ready to have a funeral.”
I smile and rub the back of Josiah’s neck. “You booger.”
His mouth trembles and then he finally grins.
“I think what you guys did out here,” I point to the plane, “and what you’re going to do in the future with Cullen Tech is way better than a funeral and an obituary.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Asad says, lifting his glass.
Just then, a waiter arrives with a tray of appetizers. While my little brother enjoys his snacks, I walk the perimeter of the air strip to have a bit of space.
Dare’s touching words about Cullen brought me back to where I was four months ago. It still hurts to think of how abruptly I lost him. I really, really wish I could have spoken to him one more time.
While I meant it when I said that Cullen would prefer to be remembered by Cullen Tech thriving and by his legacy continuing on in his work, I left the other half of my thoughts unsaid.
Funerals aren’t for the deceased. They’re for the ones who have to pick up and keep going. They help the living close the book on their loved one, knowing that they gave them a dignified, ceremonious end.
I still find it odd that Cullen’s body hasn’t been returned to us for a proper farewell. Everyone who cared deeply about him—from Darrel, Sunny and Richard Sullivan to Sara, Asad and Dr. Young—all swear that they haven’t heard from him.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Cullen intentionally had someone other than his friends take care of his body, but it makes me uneasy that we don’t know for sure.
Not even Whitaker seems to have a clue.
With a sigh, I walk back to the party at the other end of the air strip. Something on the periphery of the crowd catches my eye. It looks like a tall man wearing a dark grey beanie.
My heart surges and I pick up speed, running toward the man. But, by the time I get back to everyone, the man is gone and I’m wondering if I imagined him.
Richard Sullivan walks over to me. We’d been reintroduced at Sunny’s farmhouse and I’m pleased to say that he now knows me as more than just ‘Cullen’s girlfriend’.
“Ms. Davis, are you okay?” Richard Sullivan asks, his eyes filled with brotherly concern.
“Yeah, I…” I shake my head. “I think I just saw Cullen for a second.”
“Yes, it does feel like Cullen’s here with us,” Richard Sullivan says, lifting his face to the wind and taking a deep breath. His blissful expression seems to be saying ‘ Cullen is here in the trees and in the sky’ .
But I know what I saw and that wasn’t a spirit or a hallucination. The man wore a beanie and had the same height and build as Cullen.
“You’re seeing things,” mom tells me later that week when I finally break down and admit what happened. “You want Cullen to be alive so badly that you’re projecting.”
“But he wore a beanie!” I insist.
“Nardi, I’ve been in America for a couple months, and let me tell you something I’ve noticed. A lot of Americans wear beans. Grey beans. Black beans?—”
“Not beans , mom. Bean-ies.”
“That’s what I said.”
“This time I’m sure of what I saw.”
“Nardi, it’s only been four months since he passed on. Of course you still miss him. Some wounds take time to heal.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and tug on the memory of what I saw at the airstrip. Maybe I need to get some external help. Should I contact Darrel and get a psych evaluation?
Mom clears her throat. “By the way, I ran into that handsome Nigerian-Belizean man at the mart again. I found out he’s single.”
“Not interested, mom.” I groan.
“He runs a restaurant of his own.”
My eyes pop open.
“Yeah, I knew you’d care about that,” mom laughs. “He shops for his own ingredients. That’s why he was at the mart. He says he doesn’t sell Belizean food though. He sells African cuisine, but it’s close enough.”
My interest is piqued. I’ve been meaning to chat with someone about running a restaurant. Although I’m not ready to make the leap into full-fledged dining, I’m opening a catering business which is a nice in between point.
It’s tempting, but I shake my head. “I’m not interested, mom. If I want to find a restauranteur to talk to, I can ask Sunny or one of the other farmhouse ladies to introduce me. They know everyone in the city.”
I walk away, hoping that the matter ends there. But mom is insistent. After two straight months of her hounding me, I cave.
“Fine,” I sigh. “Since this guy is so awesome. I’ll meet him once. ”
Mom hops to her feet and immediately presses numbers on her phone. “I’ll call him right away. You can’t change your mind.” She points an accusing finger as she hurries to make the call in her room.
I shake my head and adjust the laptop on my lap. I’m sending all the food stall expenses to Whitaker so he can help me come up with a proper budget for the catering business.
“What the…!” Josiah’s voice rings from the computer room.
Thinking something horrible happened, I toss my laptop in the sofa and barrel toward my brother. Thankfully, the computer room doesn’t have a door, but I almost stumble while taking the step down.
Josiah swings around to look at me. He hasn’t changed the ratty old chair that Cullen owned, though I offered. He said sitting in it helps him think like Cullen.
“What’s wrong? Where’s the fire?” I ask, my head whipping back and forth.
“Nardi, look at this.” Josiah beckons me forward.
I’m surprised that he’s inviting me into his programming world. Josiah is very closed off about this stuff.
“Do you see that?” Josiah prods.
I squint at the screen. “Yeah. That’s a lot of numbers and letters all jumbled up together.”
“This. This .” Josiah sticks his finger against the monitor.
I squint harder, hoping that’ll give me magical programming powers. “What… exactly is it?”
“This feature set is enormous!” Josiah waves his arms. “But everything works flawlessly. There’s not a single data set interacting negatively.”
“Translation.”
Josiah thrusts a finger like a detective about to solve the case. “No one in Cullen Tech did this.”
“Huh? Have they been hacked again?”
“Not since last week when I hacked in to check on them,” Josiah says casually.
My jaw drops. “Josiah!”
“The only person who could program like this was…” His expression shifts and he glances down.
My heart thuds in my chest. “Only him?”
Josiah nods.
“Are you sure?”
He nods again. “But that doesn’t make sense. This code was added to the algorithm last week. Cullen wouldn’t have been… I mean… he didn’t do it. There’s no way.”
“Yeah.” I blow out a breath, my thoughts whirring.
“Should I tell Asad?” Josiah asks me, chewing on a fingernail.
“Not yet. Let’s keep this between us first. And if you find any other discrepancies in the PLP,” I gesture to it, “tell me first.”
“I will,” Josiah promises.
Goosebumps sweep over my arm. I scramble back to my room, slam the door shut and lean against it.
Mom will call me crazy in both English and Belizean Kriol.
But what if…
I mean…
What if Cullen isn’t dead?
Scattered puzzle pieces come together in my head.
Feeling like I’m being watched.
The magical umbrella.
The shadow outside our house.
And now this program.
It may be wishful thinking. It may be that I need to start taking some kind of medication. But before I go to Darrel for a diagnosis, I need to check for myself.
Inhaling deeply, I lift my phone and dial Cullen’s number.
It rings. And rings.
Then voicemail.
“Hi, Cullen,” I say, my pulse thrumming through my veins, “I’m still doing well. Don’t worry, I’m not calling today because I’m sad. I just… mom insists that I meet some guy she met at a store. He’s a restaurant-owner and she thinks we have a lot in common. I don’t know.”
My leg is bouncing.
I’m so nervous, the phone threatens to slip from my sweaty hand.
“I want to meet him from a purely professional stand-point, but mom made him sound so amazing. What if we really click? And I know what you’re thinking. Why would I be afraid to like someone again? But the thing is, there’s a part of me that… isn’t quite ready to love anyone but you.”
The beep sounds, telling me I’m almost out of time.
“Anyway, I agreed to go out with him this Friday at a fancy rainforest-themed cafe. It’s been six months since you’ve been gone and mom says I can test how much I’ve healed by this meeting. We’ll see.”
I smile shakily as I cut off the phone and go about my day.
This could be a total waste of time.
Or, I could be well on my way to catching a ghost.