Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Is that where Casper is?” asks Weston.
He’s too smart; he always jumps a step ahead of me. “You bet she is! Put a hand over your heart. Try it.”
Weston, wide-eyed and curious, does as he’s told. After a moment, he sulks again. “She isn’t barking.”
“You won’t feel her like that. You’ll think of her in your memories. You’ll hear her bark in your dreams. She will always be with you, just like Westley is always with me. All I have to do is close my eyes, put a hand over my heart, and there he is.”
He closes his eyes, hand still over his heart. I watch him try. I watch him beg for it. I watch him want it.
Then his eyes pop open. “I heard her bark!”
Byron and I smile, overcome, as Weston continues to hold his hand over his heart, like he’s desperate for it to happen again.
I know we’ve had many memorable Halloweens. Not to mention the day I got married and almost lost my soul—or first kissed Byron. But I think this sweet and lovely Halloween just went straight to the top.
I’ll never forget tonight.
Not until my very last day on this planet.
In lieu of sleeping alone in our boring beds, we pull out the couch and make a big bed in the living room for us all to enjoy—a fun, Halloween campout in the living room. Long after Weston is asleep—and Byron is softly snoring—I slip out from the covers and pad over to the kitchen. It just so happens I have my own little ritual I like to do every Halloween. It involves snagging a slice of cold pizza—which I do right now—taking myself to the back patio, and sitting in my old reading chair. It’s surrounded by all of Westley’s colorful plants from the apartment, which have grown a lot over the years and have now given life to a whole corner of our back yard.
I chow down on my cold slice of pizza and stare into the night sky, pondering a dozen things to myself. When I have just one bite left, I pull out a match and light a specific black-and-orange-striped candle that sits on a small table overlooking the plants.
The very same one from that final night in my old apartment, now quite a few inches shorter.
In the peacefulness of my back yard, I gaze at the stars and think of him. “Ten years since you’ve been a ghost.” I imagine he can hear me. “Nine since we first met. Seven since we last saw each other. I think about you. All the time. I think about how often we shared my body over those two special years … how we’d become one person, just like that. Michoseph forever, bro.”
A breeze rushes by, stirring the leaves of the plants.
The candlelight dances before my eyes.
“I started to wonder recently, what if you do keep a piece of your own soul when you’re a ghost? Each time you were inside me, I could see your memories. Feel all of your pain and happiness. Maybe all this time, a part of you never truly left me, even whenever we separated. Maybe I still have a part of your soul inside me now.”
I put a hand over my heart, just like I told Weston.
I close my eyes and think of my best friend.
“I hope you’ve been happy,” I say quietly. “I hope you’ve been madly in love. I hope Nina is giving you everything you deserve, which is ... probably a little bit of good and a little bit of hell.” I chuckle, then open my eyes to the candlelight. “But most of all, West … I just want to say … I think of you. I live for you. And I—”
Just then, the candle flickers, as if struck by a gust of breath that isn’t there. The plants seem to shudder, too. A chill races down my spine as I listen carefully.
Is he here? Is Westley Harmeyer here?
I smirk, pop the last bite of pizza in my mouth, and say, “Yeah, whatever, love you too, bro.” Then I blow out the candle with a smile, hop out of the chair, and reunite with my family in the living room.
The End.