If I Should Die

I grabbed his hands and blurted, “I’m so sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean to . . . I forgot who you . . .”

 

 

Jules pulled his hands from mine, and pressed his palms hard against his eyes. Breathing deeply, he leaned toward me, folding his arms across his chest. “Stop while you’re still ahead, Kate, and I can take it as a compliment.” He attempted to rearrange his face into a carefree smile.

 

“No, really, Vince. You can use me as your sex puppet anytime, as long as it’s with Kate,” he joked. My cheeks burned red with shame. I felt like crying but was too horrified to do anything but sit and watch Jules rise from the couch. He thrust his hands into his pockets and turned away from me hiding his distress. “Seriously, man . . . stop apologizing,” he said to the air. Crossing the room, he leaned on the windowsill and stared out through the glass.

 

I felt like I had parachuted out of a burning plane into an alien landscape: I had no points of reference—not even a clue which direction to walk in order to reach civilization.

 

After a few silent moments, Jules turned, and his face looked normal again. He walked up to me and ran a finger along my jawline from my ear to my chin, making me shudder. “I need to go,” he said softly. “But I don’t want you to worry about this. As far as I’m concerned, it’s forgotten. I’m glad I was here to help you two reconnect. You both mean everything to me.”

 

But as he left, his voice became gruff. “Where do you think I’m going?” he answered Vincent. “If it’s not Guiliana, it’ll be Francesca. Or Brooke. What do you care? You just stay here and make sure she’s okay.” And then the door shut and Jules was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

THIRTEEN

 

 

“VINCENT?” I CALLED, UNSURE IF HE HAD FOLLOWED Jules down the stairs.

 

I’m here, Kate, came his words.

 

I put my head in my hands. “Okay, that was awful.”

 

Was it?

 

“I mean not awful in the oh-my-God-it-was-amazing-to-feel-like-I-was-touching-you way, but I . . . I couldn’t help taking it further. It seemed like it was you.”

 

It was me. It was also unfortunately Jules.

 

“I didn’t mean to kiss him.” I curled up into a ball on the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees. I wished I could rewind time by fifteen minutes and do a retake of the whole possessed kissing scene.

 

You meant to kiss me.

 

“Yes. You, not Jules. Oh my God, I practically mauled him.”

 

He didn’t seem to mind much. And there is the fact that it stopped when it did.

 

I held my fingers to my burning cheeks to cool them down.

 

“I am not doing that again.”

 

I think that’s probably a good decision.

 

“But then how can we . . .”

 

Don’t worry, mon ange. Even though that wasn’t a huge success . . .

 

“‘Total fail’ is more like it.”

 

There are other ways that we can connect.

 

“Without actually connecting of course.” I paused, my blush flaring to sunburn intensity. “I mean . . . ,” I stammered, “I didn’t mean in the anatomical sense. Although, yeah, I guess I kind of did.” I shook my head. “This is one of the most awkward conversations we’ve ever had.”

 

That’s because it shouldn’t have to be a conversation. Not a problem we have to solve. When we have to think practically about things like . . . how a ghost can make you feel like a flesh-and-blood boy could, it kind of strips away the seductive side of things.

 

I grinned, his words bringing some very interesting images to mind. “And just how does this ghost plan on making me feel like a flesh-and-blood boy could?” I was actually able to get the words out without wanting to bury myself in the couch cushions, probably because I was genuinely intrigued by what he thought was possible.

 

Well, since we blew my plan A sky high, you need to give me some more time to come up with a plan B. But, Kate . . .

 

“Yes, Vincent?” I said hesitantly. There was something about his “but” that made me nervous.

 

Plan A. Plan B. These are only temporary solutions. You and I can’t really—Vincent’s pause stretched miles—we can’t be together like this, mon amour. You can’t put up with having a spirit as a boyfriend for long. You need more. You deserve more.

 

“I don’t want more, Vincent. I want you,” I said.

 

I can’t touch you. Can’t hold you in my arms. Bring you flowers. Row you down the Seine in a rowboat.

 

“I don’t need that,” I insisted.

 

Kate, you’re not listening to me. All I can do is talk to you. He paused. Can you feel this? Or this?

 

I felt nothing.

 

That was me touching your face and your hair. Don’t you see, Kate? I can’t be yours in any kind of real way. But what I can promise you is that I will always be here for you, watching out for you, making sure you are safe. And happy.

 

A tar pit of anger began bubbling deep in my chest. “So you want me to find someone else? A human boy?”

 

That would be the best thing for you, mon ange. Someone who is flesh and blood. Who can give you a good life. A normal life.

 

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