Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
THEO
Kennedy and I continue to converse for several hours until the sun drops to the horizon and the front room of the house is bathed in an orange glow.
The temperature outside must have finally risen above freezing, because we’ve been continuously serenaded by the drip drip drip of the tree limb’s melting icicles.
Kennedy looks like a fiery goddess as she lays flat against the floor, her hair spread out around her and the luminescence of the sunset acting like a filter over her skin.
Her socked feet are propped on the mound of blankets, and she’s deep in a dissertation about whether calories matter when you’re dead.
“It would just make sense, you know? If my body no longer absorbs the nutrients in food, what does it matter if I only eat just pancakes from now on? I don’t have to worry about too much butter or carbs. I’ll always be as healthy as I am right now.”
“I heard the mayor still managed to pack on the pounds in the afterlife, so I’d be careful if I were you,” I warn her with a wink.
She lifts her head and leans her weight back on her elbows. “You’re right,” she says, eyes widening. “If anyone managed to give themselves a heart attack in death, it would be me.”
“So, pancakes in moderation then.”
She clicks her tongue. “Do you really not eat?”
My gaze wanders to the dancing flames of the fire. Ever since I got back from the movie theater, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the memory of witches burning at the stake. “Why would I?”
“Because it’s fun!” she exclaims, sitting up fully.
“Eating isn’t fun,” I challenge. “It keeps you alive. And we’re dead.”
Kennedy crosses her legs and stuffs her hands under her thighs. “Yeah, but…you don’t miss the stuff you used to do when you were alive?”
I shake my head.
“When I ate those pancakes this morning, it brought back all sorts of memories for me. Even the weight of them on my tongue made me remember that feeling of looking forward to something. I don’t have that anymore.”
I drop to the floor from where I’d been seated on the day bed and cross my legs to match hers. “You can still look forward to things. Those things are just different now.”
She scoffs. “Says the guy who never leaves the house.”
My chest squeezes. It stings, but it’s not as if she’s exaggerating.
Kennedy’s regret is a physical thing. She rushes to take her words back. “That was harsh. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s true,” I soothe. “I should not be the one giving advice on how to live a fulfilled afterlife.”
She rolls her eyes. “Is there a book on that?”
“Definitely not.”
A pregnant pause stretches between us, then Kennedy gets to her feet and starts grabbing blankets. “Do you wanna have a slumber party?”
Images of Kennedy asleep next to me in nothing but a silk nightgown flood my brain. “W-what does that entail?” I sputter.
Her mouth presses into a tight line. “Honestly, I just didn’t feel like taking all these blankets back upstairs. I was thinking I would sleep down here instead?”
I shake the obscene image of her from my head, running a hand over the back of my neck. “Sure. It’s not a problem. I’ll head to the library for the night.”
“I invited you, Theo.” She spreads the blankets out evenly and begins to layer them, one on top of the other.
“You, you want me to sleep here? With you?” I spit out.
Her red hair nearly reaches her backside as she leans her head back and groans at the ceiling. “Don’t get your suspenders in a twist. I’m making separate pallets.”
She had indeed already started the process of creating a gap between the makeshift bedding.
I know the times have changed, and sleeping in the same room as an unmarried woman is no longer the scandal it would have been when I was alive, but being so close to her while trying to rest, I dare say, feels impossible.
Especially after the day we’ve shared together.
I’ll be replaying every moment repeatedly in my head for the rest of the night.
Probably until the sun sets again tomorrow. And again the next.
I haven’t actually tried to sleep since I summoned my physical body this time, and I doubt it will come easily. It would be better for both of us to slip back into the void and save our energy. But I can’t stand the thought of not being able to touch her again.
Just a bump in the night, a slight brush of our skin, would be enough to ignite the burning sensation that’s been building in my belly all day.
This is going to be disastrous.
“Actually, I don’t think I have the energy to remain in my body for the rest of the night,” I say, tossing my bangs from my eyes. “I’ll just see you in the morning.”
Without waiting for her response, I retreat to the void.
But before the room completely disappears, I swear I hear the faintest hint of her soft voice whispering, “Goodnight.”