Every Touch

by Parke, Nerika

  “So you have no interest in Dennis Carpenter at all, beyond mild curiosity?”

  “What more interest could I have?”

  Kelly pursed her lips. “Then why did you drive to the house belonging to Patricia Mason, Dennis Carpenter’s sister, on Mondy, sit outside, and then film her and her son when they got home?”

  Laila’s stomach twisted. “What?”

  “I was there. I saw it all.”

  Genuine anger replaced her fear now. Her voice rose. “You were following me?!”

  “Because I’m really worried about you,” Kelly said, her increasing frustration triggering some exaggerated gesticulation. “You’re living like a hermit, you never want to meet anyone new, you’re hardly even leaving your flat now other than for work, and now you say you’re in love with a man I can’t meet whose name is the same as the dead former tenant in your flat whose sister you are stalking!”

  Laila leaned forward on the edge of the chair, incensed. “I am not stalking T...” she began, then stopped. She had almost said Trish’s name, almost made another mistake like the one she had back at her flat when she’d admitted she wasn’t alone. Kelly always knew how to push her buttons and she was using that now to try to trick her into admitting something. Laila took a breath and sat back in her chair.

  “I am worried that you may be having a psychotic break,” Kelly said. “You went through a terrible experience with Gary and I think you are experiencing a delayed reaction to that. I think you need help.”

  “What kind of help do you think I need?” she said quietly.

  Kelly paused, obviously thrown by how apparently calm Laila was being. “I think you need to talk to someone, a psychiatrist. I made an appointment for you for tomorrow afternoon after you get off work. He comes very highly recommended.” She smiled. “I know he will be able to help you. And I think it would be a good idea if you stayed here for a few days. You need to get out of that flat for a while. I’ve made up the spare bedroom.”

  Laila loved her older sister intensely. They were three years apart in age and had grown up incredibly close. But she had always been in her shadow, following her lead, taking her advice, doing what she said. It wasn’t that Kelly was overbearing, it was that Laila had become used to not standing up for herself. But Denny had changed her. In the short time they had been together, she felt stronger and more sure of herself than she ever had before. Denny and Oliver needed her and she wasn’t going to let them down.

  As she looked at Kelly, Laila knew it was time to take control of her life.

  “No,” she said.

  “No what?” Kelly said.

  “Just no. No, I will not see a psychiatrist and no, I will not stay here.”

  “Lai...”

  “I love you, Kelly, and I know you are worried and just doing what you think is right for me. But you are wrong about this and you are wrong about me. I asked you to trust me and you didn’t. Instead you followed me, you spied on me and you went to my home when I was at work and invaded my privacy.”

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “How did you...?”

  “We’re not children anymore and you have to let me run my own life.” Laila stood. “Until you can do that, I don’t want you to come round any more. And I would like my keys back.”

  Kelly was staring up at her in shock, hurt filling her eyes. Laila forced herself to hold her gaze, even though inside she was close to breaking. To her relief, Kelly was the first to look away.

  “Will you at least stay for dinner?”

  Laila knew that was the worst thing she could do. Her determination was only going to last so long. She could already feel it beginning to slip. She focused on Denny, gaining strength from the thought of how much she wanted to get back to him.

  “No,” she said. “I need to go home.”

  After that Kelly didn’t argue. It was the first time in their lives that Laila had so blatantly stood up to her sister and she imagined Kelly was even more surprised at her than she was.

  Kelly gave her flat keys back and offered to drive her home, but Laila refused. The sooner she got away, the better.

  ***

  Oliver’s description of how Kelly had taken Laila with her and what she had said had kicked Denny’s habit of worrying about Laila when she wasn’t home into overdrive. He felt so helpless. Again. He frantically tried to think what Kelly could have discovered. He was certain she hadn’t found anything in the flat when she’d ransacked it two days previously. Denny considered that ransacked may have been too harsh a word, but he wasn’t feeling particularly well disposed towards Kelly at that moment.

  He sent Laila a text, but she didn’t reply. So all he could do was wait and fret. Patience had never been his strong suit when he was alive. Death hadn’t mellowed him in that area at all.

  He’d been pacing the flat for almost an hour when the door opened and Laila walked in.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” he said, rushing to her and wrapping his arms around her as he breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  She promptly burst into tears.

  “No, baby, please don’t cry,” he pleaded, hugging her tighter against him. What had her sister done to her?

  When Laila continued to sob, he picked her up and carried her to the sofa where she curled on his lap, buried her face in his shoulder and cried.

  “She... tried... to... make... me... stay... there,” she said, sobs punctuating each word. “She... thinks... I’m having... a psychotic... break.” She stopped and took a few slow, deep breaths before speaking again. “She even made an appointment with a psychiatrist without asking me!”

  Denny was furious. He felt an overwhelming need to give Kelly a piece of his mind, although part of his anger was directed at himself. This had happened because of him. His presence was causing Laila pain. It was a horrible realisation.

  She had stopped crying, but was still clutching the front of his shirt, her head leaning against his shoulder. He looked down at her fingers entangled in the material. She relied on him, trusted him, even needed him. It was terrifying and thrilling. He wasn’t sure any of his previous girlfriends had ever needed him the way Laila did. What he was certain of, though, was that he had never needed any of them like he needed her.

  After a while he reached for the pen and pad.

  What happened?

  “She followed me on Monday and saw me filming Trish and Jay,” she said, “and she found out about your death. Now I think she thinks I’m hallucinating you or something. She honestly thinks I’ve gone insane.” Her voice rose in disbelief. “My own sister!” She was silent for a while then suddenly exclaimed, very loudly, “Damn it!”

  Denny jumped, startled, and Laila laughed softly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. He kissed her forehead. “It’s just... she was the one person I could always rely on. When I left Gary, I don’t know what I would have done without her.” She smiled. “When he came round a couple of times to her house when I was there I seriously thought she was going to kill him. But now...” Her smile disappeared. “How could she do this? Why doesn’t she trust me?”

  He didn’t have an answer.

  “I made her give me back the flat keys,” she said. “I don’t trust her with them anymore.” Her eyes suddenly opened wide. “Oh, damn, what would I have done if she’d walked in on us making love?”

  There were a few seconds of silence while Denny thought about that. He couldn’t help himself, he began to laugh. After a few moments, Laila started to giggle. Before long, they were both laughing so much Denny was gasping for breath and tears were streaming down Laila’s smiling face.

  When they managed to pull themselves together, Denny took the pen and wrote, On reflection, I think taking the keys back was an extremely wise decision.

  And suddenly they were laughing again.

  Thirty-Three

  It had been fifteen days since Oliver had come to the door and shown Denny the onset of his ghostly body’s degeneration.

  Over that
time, Denny had seen the intermittent stuttered phasing in and out of his friend spread from his fingers to his arms to his entire body. It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to watch. Every day, it got a little worse. Despite being afraid of the unknown of what was going to happen to him, Oliver seemed to have come to terms with it. He was a stronger man than Denny was. Or maybe he’d just accepted his fate, whatever that was going to be. Denny admired that about him, his ability to accept what he couldn’t change and make the most of it. Would he be able to do that when it was his time? Six months ago, he would have said maybe, but now he didn’t even want to think of being taken away from Laila.

  In the afternoon, Laila and Oliver had gone on their now daily walk and he and Denny had been chatting on and off throughout the day. The sun had just set and Denny and Laila were curled up together on the sofa watching TV when Denny received the text he had been dreading.

  [It’s happening]

  He handed the phone to Laila. She read and turned to him with tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, Denny,” she whispered.

  Oliver was sitting in his usual place on the step by the door when they reached the lobby, looking out at the empty street. As soon as Denny saw him, he stopped. Oliver’s body was phasing in and out more than he’d ever seen before. For a moment he couldn’t move.

  Laila stopped beside him, her hand tightening around his, and whispered, “Is it bad?”

  He tapped her wrist once.

  Oliver turned to see them and smiled as his body stuttered a couple of times then stabilised again. Denny walked forward and Laila let go of his hand and went to the door, carrying the pen and pad with her.

  “Hey, man,” Oliver said, standing up and smiling at Denny.

  “Hey, Olly.”

  He drew Laila into his arms as soon as she got outside and held her for a long time. Whether it was to comfort Laila or himself, Denny didn’t know, but they both seemed to need it. He fought back his own tears, sitting in his usual spot next to the glass and waiting. Eventually, Oliver and Laila sat and she handed him the pad, keeping one hand on his arm.

  People see you sitting here holding onto the air, they’re going to think you’re crazy, Oliver wrote, looking at Laila.

  “I don’t care,” she said, taking his hand. “Olly, I am staying right here for as long as you need me.”

  Denny saw a tear run down Oliver’s face and he sniffed, looking down.

  “You are a very lucky man, Den, to have her,” he said.

  “I know,” Denny said. “Every day I know more and more. Hey, maybe you’re heading for that vestal virgin filled nirvana.” He tried to sound cheerful.

  Oliver smiled. “Wouldn’t that be something else?” Denny caught his breath as his entire body flickered for a few seconds, then stabilised. Oliver’s face filled with fear.

  “So,” Denny said, trying to distract him, “who have you got waiting for you in heaven?”

  “My grandma,” he smiled, “dad’s mum. She died when I was twenty-six. She always, and I mean always, had freshly baked cookies. And she always made me feel like what I was doing was the most important thing in the world, whatever it was. She would listen to me for hours when I was a kid, when I needed someone to talk to. When I’d grown up too. I’d like to see her again...”

  The three of them stayed there, talking and writing and even laughing sometimes. Until, almost an hour later, Oliver began to phase in and out again, this time not stabilising. He stopped talking, looking down at himself.

  “This is it,” he said quietly, “I can feel it happening.”

  Denny’s chest constricted. The threat of tears burned his eyes. “Are you in pain?”

  Oliver shook his head. “It just feels strange, almost like I’m floating.” He smiled. “Thank you, Denny, for being a good friend these last five years. And for being here now.”

  He scribbled on the paper. This is it. Thank you for everything. Knowing you has brought me so much happiness.

  Laila read and nodded, her eyes shining with tears. She reached up and her hand found Oliver’s flickering face. “I have loved every second I spent with you,” she said, smiling.

  He took her hand and kissed it, then reached out his other hand, pressing it to the barrier between them. Denny flattened his hand against it on the other side.

  “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Denny said, his voice breaking. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  Oliver smiled. “Goodbye, my friend.” The flickering slowed as he faded.

  “Goodbye, Oliver.”

  Then he was gone.

  Laila gasped as she felt Oliver’s hand disappear from hers and looked towards Denny. His tears finally began to fall. She got up and came back inside and he caught her in his arms, holding onto her and burying his face in her shoulder as they both cried.

  They went back to the flat and lay down together on the bed, fully dressed, wound their arms around each other and grieved.

  ***

  The next morning when Denny woke he reached for Laila, as he always did, to find her side of the bed empty. Opening his eyes, he looked around and saw her curled in the big armchair by the window, looking out. He climbed out of the bed and walked over to her, standing behind the chair, reaching his arms around her and bending down to kiss her neck. She turned her head and smiled, rubbing her hands along his arms and kissing the inside of his elbow.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning,” he replied, even though she couldn’t hear him.

  He walked around the chair and carefully picked her up slightly so he could sit down, settling her in his lap. She snuggled into him and found his face with her hand, bringing her lips to his. Nothing made him happier to wake up every morning than being with her.

  “I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

  She smiled. “I love you too.” She took hold of his hand. “I need to ask you something.”

  He tapped the inside of her wrist with his fingertip, fairly sure he knew what she was going to say.

  “Is what happened to Olly going to happen to you?”

  He paused for a few seconds then tapped once. His own possibly imminent fade was something he’d wanted to keep from Laila, even though he knew she must have guessed it. The thought that he would one day have to leave her broke his heart and imagining her go through what Trish had when he died was more than he could bear.

  “Do you know when?”

  He tapped her wrist twice.

  “But it could be any time?”

  Yes.

  She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “No.”

  No? He took her hand and drew a question mark on her palm.

  “I’ve been thinking about this,” she said, “and there has got to be someone somewhere who knows something about it. I am going to find that person and I am going to stop it. I can’t just let you go. I am going to do anything it takes.”

  She sounded so determined. He had no idea if any of that was possible, but he felt such an upsurge of pride at her words he couldn’t help but smile. He kissed her cheek and she turned her face towards him, touching her fingers to his jaw and kissing him on the lips, then laying her head on his shoulder.

  “I miss Olly,” she said after a while.

  He nodded so she could feel it. “Me too.”

  ***

  When Laila left the library later that day, instead of going straight home she drove to the local cemetery. Despite living in the area her whole life, she’d never actually been inside the place, but today her maiden visit had a dual purpose. She left her car in the small car park and walked towards the cremations section in the far corner.

  She carried with her two roses, one white and one red.

  Her lunch break had been used to do some research, so she knew more or less where she was going, but it still took a few minutes of reading the small gravestones to find her first reason for coming.

  She knelt on the grass
by the plain, unassuming grey square stone marker, set flat into the grass. Her fingertips ran over the inscription as she read.

  OLIVER CARRINGTON

  1972 – 2008

  always remembered

  Tears ran unchecked down Laila’s face as she laid the white rose on the stone then lay her hand flat onto the ground beside it.

  “We will always remember you, Olly,” she said softly. “I miss you.”

  After staying by Oliver’s grave for a few minutes, she stood and began to search again. It wasn’t long before she found what she was looking for.

  A rose marble headstone, a foot high and rounded at the top, was set into the ground. Laila knelt again and read the words carved into the surface and highlighted in gold.

  DENNIS CARPENTER

  30th June 1976 to 16th September 2009

  Loving brother, uncle and friend.

  Always in our hearts.

  She placed the red rose in front of Denny’s gravestone.

  “I won’t come back here,” she whispered. “I will not come here to cry for you when you’ve gone, because I won’t let it happen. Whatever I have to do, I will not let you go. I promise, I will find a way.”

  She laid her hand on the stone, feeling the cold hard surface press against her palm as she read the inscription once more. Then she stood and walked back to her car without a glance back.

  Thirty-Four

  It came as a surprise to Denny that there were some things you really couldn’t find out from the internet. After endless hours of searching, he and Laila turned up exactly nothing about saving a ghost, although there were plenty of instructions on how to get rid of one. He doubted any of them would work, but it made him uncomfortable nevertheless.

  Plan B was to take a more direct approach and try to find someone who could help them. It turned out there was no shortage of so called professional mediums who, for a fee, were willing to do house calls. They decided that the best way to ascertain if they were genuine or not was to just bring them in to see if they could talk to Denny. He was sceptical, but then he’d never believed in the existence of ghosts before he became one, so he was determined to remain open minded.