The Ghosts

Chapter Three, Part Two

I woke up after having my usual nightmare of Aidan. I didn’t know how long or when Michael let me out of the dreamwalk but I felt his absence, like always. But this time it was stronger, worse somehow.

Maybe it was because I knew it would never happen again.

When I looked at the clock it said four. Three hours of sleep.

I thought about trying to go back to sleep but…it just wasn’t going to work. So instead I stared up at the blue ceiling for a time, the color matching perfectly with the sky at the beach. I felt worse than when I fell asleep and staring up at a reminder of something I would never get back wasn’t helping. In the end I ended up dragging myself into a sitting position, my whole body racked with the shakes.

And that’s where Gregori found me an hour later when he came to collect me. He let himself into my apartment after knocking for five whole minutes without an answer. Picking up on the mood wasn’t that hard and he didn’t say anything to me as he took it all in. I didn’t really look at him, just stared at the wall by the bed, right where I imagined a window would be.

“Geo?”

I glanced in his direction but I couldn’t really look at him. I couldn’t make myself do it. It was all just…unbearable.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

He sat down and continued to look at me. For a second I thought he was trying to catch my eye but instead he just reached out for my hand. I never knew how really comforting someone holding your hand could be until this moment. I let him take it and he started to massage the shakes out.

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded and continued to massage my hand. We sat there for the longest time, neither of us saying anything. But it was comforting, just having someone sit there with me and not ask questions. It reminded me of Luke and how he would always know which subjects to address and which ones just to let go.

“The ceiling looks good.”

I looked at him, frowning. Why was he talking about the ceiling? That came right out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“No streaks. I was expecting a crap job but…you should be a professional painter, you know, if this doesn’t work out for you.”

I knew what he was trying to do. My brother and Luke attempted to do it every time I felt like crap. Only difference was Gregori didn’t have the history with me to back it up. I pulled my hand out of his and glared.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“It. What you’re doing. It’s not going to make it better. It’s not going to work. Nothing is going to work so just stop trying.”

His face took on that stern quality I’d seen so many times with my father. “Would you rather me be mean to you? Yell at you? Tell you what you’re doing is stupid? Because I can if you want.”

“What I’m doing…”

“You’re punishing yourself, for some reason. You’re not the only person in the world, let alone this city, with a broken heart. I know it hurts, I know it sucks, but you have to move passed it. You need to situate yourself so the pain is allowed to abate just a little every day but you’re not doing it. Allowing yourself to wallow and relive every single detail is doing nothing for anyone.”

“You don’t understand…”

“Yes, I do,” he cut me off. “I know what it’s like to have a broken heart but people still expect you to function. I know what it’s like to feel your reality slipping through your fingers but you can’t do anything about it. You’re depressed, Geo. Pills and medicine won’t work for you so you need to find some other way of dealing with it.”