by Kenya Wright
“How. . .did they get pictures of me? What is going on?” I stepped to the mantle.
Noise came from my side. I turned in that direction.
My father walked into the living room. “Timothy, your sister’s fashion show is on Youtube. Anna just showed me. Do you want to see it?”
My voice went low. “Dad.”
The boy stopped drawing and gazed up at my father with a smile. “What’s the link?”
“Don’t worry about that, buddy.” My father gave Timothy his phone. “Look on mine.”
Shocked, I shook my head. “His sister? Me?”
The ghost remained silent.
“Who else would it be? I had a fashion show.” I stayed where I was as Timothy pressed on the video. My charity fashion show played on the phone.
“She’s good with fabric.” Timothy nodded. “How does she know what to mix colors and patterns with?”
“Her mother was a seamstress and always had a talent for matching and coordinating.” Dad shrugged. “All I know is that Ivy didn’t get it from me. Your old man can’t put together an outfit to save his life.”
“This is my brother. The baby my mother killed herself over. The reason for everything.” I walked in front of the teenager and studied him. “This is him. And his name is. . .Timothy.”
He continued to watch the show. Meanwhile, my father watched him as if he were scared something would happen.
Another woman strolled in with a tray of pills. From what I could tell, she was definitely Hispanic. She had a tan complexion. Long silky black hair framed her face. “Okay. Time for your medicine.”
Timothy frowned. “But Mom, I’m looking at Ivy’s show.”
“You can look at it and take your medicine at the same time.”
Timothy exhaled. “What would it matter? I’m just going to die soon anyway.”
Both my father and she froze in horror.
I held my hand to my chest. “What?”
My father frowned. “Please, Timothy. Never say that. Not only are you wrong about that, but it also hurts us.”
Timothy shut off the phone and placed it on his lap. “I think it’s better for all of us to accept the truth so that we can move on.”
Rage crossed his mother’s face. “You don’t know what God has in store, so just stop it.”
Timothy shook his head. “I know that I won’t be here much longer. I can feel it.”
“Enough!” His mother dropped the tray of pills and then she dropped to the floor to pick it all up. “I’m sorry. I just can’t—”
“I’ll get it, Anna.” Dad watched her. “Go ahead and take a break. You’ve been on your feet all day doing meal prep.”
Her eyes watered. She rose and turned around.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Timothy said.
“It’s fine, honey.” Tears left her eyes as she hurried away.
Timothy looked up at Dad. “I wasn’t trying to make her sad.”
“When you talk like that, it’s hard for both of us. We love you so much.”
“But I’m okay with death.” Timothy sighed. “The doctors said I would be dead at ten. I’m now almost eighteen. As far as I’m concerned, every day, week, and year is a blessing. I’m the most blessed boy in this world.”
Dad lowered and hugged him. “I love you, Timothy.”
“I love you too.”
Dad rose and gave him a sad smile. “But. . .as you already said, the doctors were wrong. No one knows what will be in the future but God. Let him show us. Don’t try to predict.”
Timothy nodded. “I love Mom and you. I just. . .worry about you two.”
“You worry about us?”
“I’ll be fine, Dad.” Timothy displayed a bright smile. “I know where I’m going and it is a beautiful, magical place. But you two will remain here, and Earth is not that easy.”
Dad gave him a sad smile. “It isn’t.”
“Promise that you both will take care of each other when I’m gone.”
“We have a long time for me to make a promise like that.”
“Please, Dad.”
My father’s eyes watered. “I promise.”
With a sad smile, Timothy returned to the phone and pressed the screen.
“I’ll be back. I must finish packing.” My father walked out of the room.
The ghost pointed at him. “Let’s go.”
“I would rather leave. This is sad.”
The ghost walked off.
I followed Dad and the ghosts into the bedroom.
A suitcase was open on the bed. Folded clothes were inside. His new wife sat on the bed with her hands covering her face.
“Darling.” Dad went to the bed and sat right next to her. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How?” She moved her hands and wiped her tears away. “I’m so scared.”
“The doctor said he’s doing better.”
“But every time Dr. Taylor just extends his life expectancy for a few more months.”
Dad gathered her in his arms. “And every time Timothy surpasses it. At some point, we must give our faith to God and not Dr. Taylor.”
She leaned her head against his chest. “Do you have to go again?”
“I have to try.”
“Each time you try to see her it ends up being a waste of time. She runs off or—”
“I have to try, Anna. She’s my daughter. I’ll never give up.”
She sniffled and looked at him. “What will be the difference this time?”
“This time she won’t be able to run away.”
And then the vision disintegrated like the other. But this time, I stood there in shock and sadness.
The ghost walked off.
I remained there, staring at the withering image of my father hugging his wife. I called out to the ghost. “Why is Timothy dying? What does he have?”
The ghost continued off.
I hurried that way. “What’s wrong with him? Why do they think he’s going to die?”
“I do not know.”
“But you know everything else.”
“No. Sometimes you just ask the right questions.”
“Okay.” I got to his side. “So, then why did you show me that? It was sad and depressing. . .and. . .”
The ghost stopped and looked at me.
I sighed. “That’s my brother.”
He nodded.
“And he’s dying.”
The ghost continued forward.
This time a house didn’t appear within the forest. Instead, it was the front of a condo. Gray brick made up the place. I could tell that the front was inside of the building. Instead of steps or a porch, it was a tiled black and white floor in front of the door.
“Who’s condo is this?” I followed the ghost.
He gestured at the knob.
I grabbed and turned it. The door opened.
A tall Hispanic woman with brown hair held up two fur jackets. I recognized both of them and frowned.
She smiled. “Which one do you think?”
Saint walked in with only a towel wrapped around his muscular waist. His skin was wet and his hair slicked back. His dog Angel trotted behind him.
“Why don’t you have any clothes on in front of her?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I mean, seriously.”
The stylist definitely noticed. Her gaze touched every inch of his chest and then went to the towel. “Do you know what would be a perfect Christmas present for me?”
“I already got you something and put it on your desk.” He stopped in front of her and glanced at both jackets. “I like these. I’ll take both to Finland.”
“You should take me too. I’ve never been.”
Saint grabbed both of the jackets. “I’ll pack these.”
“Saint?”
He walked off, holding the jackets. “Serenity, we’ve had this conversation already.”
“This chick.” I stomped forward. “Well, let’s have this conversation again so we can a
ll hear it.”
Serenity sucked her teeth and sashayed forward. “Yes. I know. You don’t want to mix business with pleasure. But I wouldn’t mind it, Saint.”
“I bet you wouldn’t.” I walked after them and entered his large bedroom.
He folded each jacket and placed it in the opened suitcase on the bed. “It also wouldn’t be fair to you.”
I thought Serenity would go over to him, but she went to his nightstand. I widened my eyes when she picked up the framed picture of me.
“I think that this is the true problem.” Serenity waved my picture at him. “I’ve heard talk around the studio. They say you’ll sleep with women, but none will ever get your heart. You’re apparently in love with someone who doesn’t love you. Is this her?”
“Put the picture down.” He shut the suitcase. “You’re here to help me pack, not assess my love life.”
“You tell her.” I clapped and walked over to Serenity, wishing I could shove her butt out of the condo. “It’s none of your business what’s going on between him and me.”
“Do you know what else they say, Saint?” Serenity placed my picture on the nightstand.
Sighing, Saint headed back into the bathroom.
Serenity followed him in there. “They say that this designer chick doesn’t love you back.”
Frowning, Saint picked up shaving cream and smeared it on his jaw. “Thank you for the outfits. We’re done here.”
“I think it’s disrespectful.” Serenity drooled over him from behind. “You’re quite a man—sexy, smart, talented in the kitchen, and I can only imagine that you’re even more amazing in bed.”
I glared at her. “You’ll never know.”
Serenity went to his side and smirked. “How long are you going to be the hero of this depressing movie on unrequited love?”
Sighing, he put the can on the counter. White cream covered his jaw. “Not much longer.”
Serenity quirked her brows. “Say what?”
“I’m giving her an ultimatum this trip.”
Serenity grinned. “And if she says no?”
Saint didn’t appear to like that question. He picked up his razor and began shaving the right side of his jaw.
“Saint?” Serenity leaned her head to the side. “If she says no, will you give me a chance?”
The vision disintegrated.
“No! No!” I raised my hands in the air. “I want to know his answer.”
The ghost sounded behind me. “Don’t you already know the answer?”
I turned and faced him. “No.”
“I believe you do.”
I looked around us. The forest disappeared. We were now back in my villa.
“Wait.” I shook my head. “That’s it?”
“You need more? The point should be clear.”
“The last ghost took me through all these different memories and—”
“We are not the same, and neither is the lesson.”
“I want to know what would happen if I fall in love or—”
“I think the question should be what would happen if you don’t.” And then the ghost disappeared.
And I woke in the tub. Early morning light poured over me. The water around my body was ice cold.
“Shit!” I hurried out of it. My body trembled from the freezing liquid. My teeth clattered. “You could have taken me out of the tub or something!”
Chapter 15
White Christmas
I took a hot shower to warm me up. Thoughts spun in my head.
Okay. If those aren’t dreams, then. . .there is a spirit world and. . .
I stood in the shower. Steam rose around me.
Everything I thought I knew is all. . .different.
I turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around me.
All of this was real. . .
Nervous, I went into my bedroom as if one of the ghosts would be standing in my room. I walked to the center where the second one sat surrounded by candles.
If it’s all real then. . .I could check it. He showed me moments from this year.
I thought back to the three main moments. Holly and Nikolas discussed how they really didn’t want their wedding to be in Finland. Holly had brought us here for me.
God, I hope that is not true. Holly, this is your wedding. Not mine. We should have been in Jamaica.
I was pissed with her for doing it, but also grateful that she’d cared so much. For so many years, she’d tried to make Christmas a magical time and flood my life with good memories to fade out the sad ones.
I hurried to get dressed.
What about the other memories?
There was my father with the child that had destroyed his first marriage. My mother had killed herself over the kid. All these years, I figured that his life with his new family had been perfect. I assumed that the child lived the most joyous moments ever, having the love of both parents there. Instead, I realized that my half-brother had his own sadness to deal with.
That was so sad. And. . .Dad told Timothy about me. He even had. . .my pictures up in his house. They also looked at my fashion show.
I didn’t know how I felt about that. All this time, I’d blamed Dad for my mother’s suicide. It had been a necklace of hate that I never took off. I’d vowed to never forgive him.
Now what? If these ghosts—these spirits—are real, then Mom was telling me to forgive him and let all the pain go.
That didn’t make sense to my cold heart. Because of Dad, she’d taken her life. She’d left me. Because of that twisted, dysfunctional relationship, she no longer walked this earth. She never got to see me grow up.
Well. . .she did see me grow up. . .if this is all real. She was watching me the whole time.
I paused from dressing and stared off in the distance, doing my best to wrap my head around it all.
If this is real then. . .everything that I believe is wrong.
It took me less than an hour to get dressed. I had to twist and hop up and down into my green velvet gown. While everything fit, my ass wanted to test out the elasticity of the velvet. When I put the gown on, I stepped into the mirror and assessed the view.
Not bad.
The mermaid style gown was long and emerald green. It hugged my body and fell out around my knees. The thick material would keep me warm in the SnowChapel.
I’m ready for the wedding. All I have to do is get that dream out of my mind.
But I couldn’t. The final moment hit my head—Saint and his flirtatious stylist. I didn’t like that moment at all. Jealousy rose in me. While I knew he must’ve slept with people and spent time with them, I never thought about it. To consider that would admit that Saint had my heart.
What am I going to do about him?
Obviously, the easiest answer would be to give my heart to Saint. All I had to do was step out on faith and open myself to him. Easier said than done, especially when the very idea gave me spasms and brought back memories of a dead mother hanging from a doorway.
Damn it. But. . .what about that stylist or any other woman in the future. I told him to move on. I knew that he would have to move on eventually. But. . .seeing a hint of that possibility?
Rage triggered inside of me.
Saint is mine.
Perhaps, I sat in that fact for too many years. I got comfortable with the idea that Saint would always be there for me, patient, and waiting. Deep inside of my core, I figured I could drag this situation out for a long time. As long as possible. It was selfish and wrong.
Perhaps I might have told him to move on.
But now. . .
These ghosts and my mother infected me. They made me relive my scattered memories. And I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with everything I was seeing. The first ghost walked me through my past and it had been sad. But there were times when I looked at those memories and was happy to relive them. Even as an adult looking at my mother and father fight, I saw it so much differently from what my younger brain remembere
d.
And Grandma. . .and Grandpa. . .
Surely, they didn’t want to add to my anxiety and depression over Christmas, but that was what happened when they died around those times. That being said, they’d spent so much time giving me joy when they were alive. Part of me felt guilty keeping myself happy after they died.
I just. . .I’ve always felt. . .alone. By myself. . .
But then there were so many memories of Saint, Holly, and Nikolas loving me, thinking of me, surrounding me with love. Always, they rushed my way at this time of year, knowing how much the holidays hurt me. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful, I just didn’t want to pay too much attention to their love. To do so would possibly mean that I would lose them.
Wait. What? Is that what I think? I. . .guess so. . .
I walked over to my bed and sat down.
If I took in their love. . .then I would lose them. . .
My eyes watered.
It was a stupid thought but as real as any other. I knew it couldn’t be true. Still, my hands shook in my lap.
I’m scared to lose them. I’m so scared. If they go. . .then I really will have no one else.
I swallowed down the sorrow that had been lodged in my throat for so many years. If I took a chance with Saint, would God take him from me? With all the people that I’d buried, I believed it was a logical question.
What about Dad? I pushed him away and he survived. This is a stupid theory but it is a fact.
When I saw my father in this last dream, my heart ached. He was so old. It was hard not to think of all the years I’d missed with him.
And he continued to try to fix the brokenness between us. Something had to change.
I thought back to what my Grandmother always said.
“If you want a new outcome, then you have to do new things, baby. Can’t just keep doing the same old thing to get something new.”
I rose from the bed and wondered how I could apply it to life. If I tried to do everything differently, could there be a new life for me? I wasn’t even sure what new path would come.
I’d been content with the life I had now. I was a successful designer. I had a great friendship with Holly and Saint.
