by Abby Wilder
He nodded to the house where the brightly lit window displayed the view to the outside world. "Can't say I've ever seen my mother dance on a table before."
My mum was holding her sides laughing. Flynn and Mr Mitchell were leaning against the fireplace, involved in another debate, no doubt regarding cars, while Mrs Mitchell was dancing on the coffee table, with Judah trying to coax her down. The others must have gone home.
"She drinks a lot more than she ever used to. It's my fault." He looked so sad that I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist and press close to him, but I was aware of the eyes of the people inside the house.
"How is it your fault?" I whispered.
"I died."
"That's hardly your fault."
I didn't think it was possible for him to look even sadder, but I was wrong. "You better get inside," he said quietly.
I was surprised when he followed me. He went over to his mother who was hanging onto Judah and stroked her cheek. A shudder ran through her and I wondered if on some level she could sense him.
"Come on Mum, let's get you home," Judah said, taking her by the arm. She leaned into him and patted his cheek, smiling lopsidedly.
Mr Mitchell looked up at Judah's voice and his eyes widened when he saw his wife. "Right. Looks like we better head home." He laughed nervously.
"Why?" Mrs Mitchell pouted and then she turned to my Mum. "We haven't had cuddles in months," she said, a lot louder than she probably intended. "Not since he died."
Mr Mitchell laughed nervously and took his wife's arm, shaking his head ever so slightly. Mrs Mitchell just scowled at him. Ruben stood beside his mum and Judah. Once again, I saw the sadness in his eyes as he looked at his family, so eager to reach out to them. I smiled at him softly. He looked so pale under the harsh incandescent light, his hair the exact same shade as Judah's but swept off his face, his cheeks flecked with the same freckles. But it was the sorrow with which he studied his mother that made my heart sigh.
Mum was captured in Flynn's embrace, staring into his eyes lovingly. The way she once looked at Dad.
"You ready to go?" I asked her.
She looked over at me and then back at Flynn. "You go ahead."
"But I'm your ride home."
"I'll be fine." She looked back into Flynn's eyes and giggled. I did not want to see that.
Ruben and I drove back to my house in silence. He followed me through the house and into my room, flopping himself down on the bed and leaning against the bedhead, hands cupped under his head and ankles crossed.
"Your window is perfect," he said as I flicked on my computer and checked my lack of emails.
I swivelled the chair around. "I've always thought so."
"It creates the perfect frame." He patted the empty space on the bed beside him. "Come here."
I walked over and fitted myself into the space under his arm. My head rested on his chest where the steady rhythm of his heart beat soundly.
He held his fingers in a square. "If you look at it from this angle, you can see the moon and the stars, the tips of the mountains above the dark forest, and the faintest glimmer of the lake. It's so beautiful."
"Delicatessen," I stated.
"Delicatessen?" he repeated.
"It's a beautiful word, don't you think?"
Ruben hugged me tighter. "I'm stuck on blue." His chest rose and fell as he sighed deeply. "I didn't like tonight." I twisted my head to peer up at him as he spoke. "I didn't like that I couldn't be there with you, not really, not properly." He adjusted his position on the bed so my head tucked beneath his chin. "I just hope you know I would do those things, if I could. I'd take you on a date, a proper date." He laughed a little. "I never got to do that with someone."
"You never dated? Judah said you dated almost every girl in school."
"Judah is exaggerating. But I'm talking about actually going on a date, you know, like out for dinner, or bringing you home to meet my parents, the sort of things I used to avoid at all costs. If I could, I'd do all those things with you, but I can't. Showing you parts of my world is all I can offer."
"It's enough," I said, pressing closer to him.
Chapter Twenty One
Lennon
Ruben asked me to try and talk to Judah again, and the chance came the next day as Judah sat alone in his car, listening to music and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
"Have you got a minute?" I said when he rolled down the window. "I need to talk to you about something important." Without waiting for an answer, I climbed into the passenger's seat. "Take me to the abandoned house."
He looked at me as though I'd lost my mind, but started the engine and drove. "How do you know about that house, and what's so important?" he asked as we turned onto Stone's Throw Road.
My palms were sticky. I didn't know how I was going to approach the subject. All I had planned so far was to get him to the abandoned house where I knew Ruben would be waiting. "I'll tell you when we get there."
Judah grunted and turned up the volume on the radio. The music blared and Judah continued to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. The rhythm hammered into my head and thudded against the edges of my skull. I pressed my fingers to my temples and massaged, willing the repetitive thud to lessen.
"Can we turn it down?" I asked finally.
Judah scowled and turned the radio off. When we pulled over to the side of the road, he got out and followed me through the paddocks. He leaned against the rotting, wooden fence, looking at the house hesitantly. "Okay, we're here. Now what?"
"Come inside."
"Look, I don't know if you've got some weird dead brother fetish thing going on or something, but I'm just not interested. I like someone else."
I closed the door firmly behind us and walked to the room where I knew Ruben would be waiting. "It's not like that."
Ruben leaned against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, back pressed against the sketches. The pad he had used to sketch me was lying in the same place as before, the page now blank.
"Just tell him," he said.
"Shh, let me think," I muttered.
"I didn't say anything." Judah looked at me suspiciously.
"Sorry." I paced the strip of floorboards still intact and they protested under my weight. How did I broach the subject? I couldn't just blurt it out, I would sound insane. Hey, Judah, I've been dating your brother, you know, the dead one, he's some sort of ghost or something, and I'm the only person who can see him. I shook my head. It sounded insane, even inside my own mind, and I could see Ruben.
Judah, who had been hovering near the doorway, stepped into the room and looked around, his eyes narrowing in on the sketches fluttering in the slight breeze. "How do you know about this place?" His voice caught in his throat as he traced his finger over the outline of the hand lying in the grass. "Did you know Ruben drew these?"
I nodded absently in answer to his question, still trapped by the conversations going on in my head. I just didn't know what to say, or how to even start. No matter what I came up with, it just sounded pathetic.
Judah, sensing my hesitation, walked over and took my shoulders, holding me in place. "Talk," he instructed gruffly.
Trapped in his grasp, I looked up and stared into eyes which were an exact replica of Ruben's, tinted with the same sadness but also with anger and bitterness. I bit my lip nervously and Judah's grip on my arms intensified.
"Just tell him," Ruben urged.
"Just tell me," Judah said, and it sounded like an echo in the broken room. Ruben moved to stand beside him. The mirror image blurred in my vision, one staring at me impatiently, the other imploringly.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "I can see Ruben," I blurted out.
Judah didn't answer, but his grip on my arms dropped. I risked opening my eyes, expecting disbelief or shock, but Judah's look was cold and hard. "Very funny. And I'm Bruce Willis." He walked towards the door, throwing words over his shoulder. "Look, I don't know what sort of game you're pla
ying, but just keep me out of it, okay?"
"Judah, please wait." I took a deep breath, closed my eyes again, not wanting to see his reaction, and let the words, jumbled and unrehearsed, flow from me. "I met him at the cemetery. At first, he told me he was you, but then, when I ran into you at school that time, and you acted as if you hardly knew me, I confronted him and he told me the truth. I don't know what he is. All I know is that I can see him, and that he is as real to me as you are standing here now. He's here, in fact. He's standing right beside you."
Judah expelled a snort of air. "Okay, so you're crazy."
"I'm not," I said, and grabbed his arm. At his cold glare, I dropped it and backed away. "Look, I know how this seems, I know how hard this is to believe, but why would I make this up?"
Judah shook his head. "Whatever you've got going on in that head of yours is not my problem, but I suggest you get help. Professional help."
Ruben moved to my side. "Tell him that he has a scar on his right hip from when he fell out of a tree when he was six," he said.
I bit off the reply that was sitting on the tip of my tongue, knowing that talking to Ruben in front of Judah was not going to help my case.
"He said to tell you about the scar on your hip that you got from falling out of a tree."
Judah took a step back. "Cara could have told you that."
"Cara knows you have a scar on your hip?" I asked, momentarily distracted.
"Seriously?" Ruben hissed. "Do you think we could concentrate on getting my brother to believe you, rather than what Cara does or doesn't know about him?"
"Do you feel like attempting it yourself?" I hissed back, annoyed that he was getting angry when all I was trying to do was help.
"Attempting what?" The doubt in Judah's eyes was plain, doubt and mistrust, and I didn't blame him.
"Never mind," I said, covering my face with my hands.
Beside me, Ruben ran his fingers through his thick hair and sighed with frustration. "Please try," he pleaded, and then he continued to tell me things to relay to Judah.
I took a deep breath and spoke, passing on the information each time Ruben paused. "You used to be afraid of the dark and had to have a nightlight. Sometimes, since Ruben's death, you still do. Once, you slept walked and peed in the closet, not your closet, Ruben's closet, and he was annoyed at you for weeks for ruining his pair of shoes that had little wheels on the heels. You like classical music, but only listen to it when other people aren't around because you're scared of what they will think. You had a crush on Billie Johnson in primary school and sent her a Valentine's Day card, but because you didn't sign your name, she assumed it was from Ruben and you never told her it was you."
Judah's face paled. He leaned against the door and ran his hands through his hair, almost tearing it at the roots, the exact same way Ruben had only moments before.
"He's beginning to believe," Ruben said, a little hope creeping into his tone.
I looked at Judah and shook my head. "He's confused."
"Me?" Judah said, his hands still entwined in his hair. "Of course I'm confused."
I took a step closer and reached out to place my hand on his arm. "You didn't kill your brother, or Lana."
"But how—"
"How do I know all these things?" I finished for him. "Because Ruben is right here telling me."
Judah sunk to the floor. "It's just not possible."
Ruben crouched next to him. I could see how much he wanted to reach out and touch his brother, to show him that he was still there, but he didn't. Instead, he turned to me, pleading to make his brother see something he couldn't.
"It's impossible," Judah whispered, more to himself than to me. His eyes darted around the room, as though he was scared Ruben was going to suddenly appear.
I sat on the floor beside him and stared down at my hands looped between my knees. "I know it doesn't seem possible, but he really is here."
"Now?" he asked.
I nodded, and he looked slowly around the room again. Ruben was still crouched beside him, but Judah stared straight through him, unable to see the one thing he was looking for. "But I can't see him. I can't hear him." He became agitated. "How can I believe something I can't see?"
"How else would I know those things about you?" I whispered, taking Judah's hand and squeezing tightly. Ruben's eyes darkened.
"I can't." Judah sighed. "None of this makes sense. If you can see Ruben, does that mean he isn't dead? Or does it mean that part of you is dead too? There are too many questions. It's just too ridiculous. I need to clear my head." He got up and walked out, leaving Ruben and me alone.
"You should have tried harder," Ruben said, his eyes still dark.
"I just told him that I can see his dead brother. What did you expect?" I replied.
"Why didn't you try harder? Are you afraid he'll spread rumours around school?" His nostrils flared. "Because if you are, he's not that sort of person. He's fundamentally against greasing the school gossip wheel. If anyone can keep his mouth shut, it's Judah. Believe me."
The wind picked up and pushed a stray breeze through the building. The gaping silence between us grew until it was unbearable. The darkness in Ruben's eyes dimmed to sadness and I walked over and stood behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and resting my chin on his shoulder. "What now?"
Ruben pulled away and walked out the same door his brother had only moments before. "I guess that's up to him," he said quietly.
I walked home alone and flopped down on my bed, staring out the window at the tops of the mountains hidden by hovering cloud.
The tension between Ruben and I when we parted only intensified my desire to be around him. Why did my heart beat faster at the sight of him? Why did I spend hours obsessing over our conversations? Why did excitement flood my veins each time our eyes met? I was falling in love, but who was I falling in love with? The ghost of a dead boy, or someone as real to me as the air I breathed? It was as those thoughts ran about my head that I fell into a fitful and dream-filled sleep.
I was powerless to move. Rain dripped onto my face, forcing my eyes shut, but even with them closed I knew it was Ruben who held me tight. His hands brushed against my hair and down my back, pulling me closer and closer until the familiar panic started to well in my chest. His lips pressed against mine and I tried to pull away, but my body and lips were held to his by an invisible force. My chest, my arms, my legs, every part of me was screaming for release, yet at the same time, I yearned for more. Even though his lips were still pressed against mine, I heard his voice.
"Breathe," he said. "Just breathe."
"I can't," I heard myself reply.
"Let go, it will be easier. Let me in."
I felt the water around me then, not just as rain, but as a body wrapping me in its arms, cold and sharp, pressing on my lungs. It tugged me down, its pull begging me to succumb to the watery depths.
Pain and pleasure pulsated, leaving me with only two choices.
Fight or succumb.
Breathe or die.
A gush of air inflated my lungs, but instead of relief, it brought numbing coldness. I didn't shiver, it wasn't that sort of cold. It was the same coldness I felt when I reached out and held Harrison's hand. The coldness of death.
"Lennon!"
I woke with a start to find Ruben leaning over me, his eyes filled with concern.
"You were thrashing in your sleep."
I took in the dimly lit room, my racing heart, and my skin feeling nothing but cold. "What are you doing here," I said as my thoughts struggled through the fog of my dream.
"I—" His eyes dropped to the ground.
"It was you, wasn't it?" I asked.
He nodded as I looked over at the yellow curtain fluttering in the breeze from the open window.
"You can't do that."
He looked up. "I can't help it," he whispered. "You don't know how much lonelier it is now that I know I can be with you. Missing something is worse when you know e
xactly what it is you're missing." He stood beside the window, one hand placed on the frame. "Was it bad?"
I nodded, unable to talk.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I was drowning. You were killing me."
Ruben walked the few steps from the window to my bed and lay beside me, wrapping me in his arms and holding me securely against his chest. He held me like that and didn't speak until my breathing returned to normal. "I'm sorry," he said so quietly I barely heard it.
"It's not your fault," I said, even though I knew the words were a lie.
"I'm sorry about earlier." His chin moved against the crook of my neck. "I should have never got annoyed with you. Judah and I have always had a love/hate relationship and—" His voice fell to a whisper. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."
I twisted around and huddled into him, my face buried in his chest, clinging to him at the same time as hiding from him. He spoke the next words with his lips pressed to the top of my head, his breath warm and comforting. "You are everything to me. I would never want to hurt you. I hope you know that."
I slipped my arms around his waist. "I know."
When I was with him there was nothing to doubt, and I didn't need to know anything more than that. I pressed closer to him again, still feeling the coldness from my dream and willing the heat to travel through his skin and into mine. But the more I tried to take his warmth, the colder I got. My body ached and called out for sleep, but the thought of dreaming again kept me awake.
Chapter Twenty Two
Lennon
Over the next week, Judah avoided me. I would catch his eye sometimes, but he always looked away quickly and moved out of the room. We didn't share any classes so I had no excuse to run into him. I wanted to pester him about Ruben. I wanted to make him believe. But the hardness in his eyes kept me from approaching.
"I hope you don't still like him," Sienna said one day after she caught me watching Judah.
"Of course not." I tried to look as though I didn't care.
