Every Touch

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Every Touch Page 29

by Parke, Nerika


  Leaving Denny to look at the article she’d saved about his death, she walked over to the kitchen, wiping at the tears that had escaped down her cheeks as she went.

  She kept darting glances at him while she prepared the sandwiches, watching his reaction as he focused on the laptop. After she’d finished their breakfast and he was still reading, she knew he must have gone through the article several times.

  Carrying the plates of food to the sofa, she sat and placed them onto the coffee table.

  “I don’t understand,” he said, still staring at the screen, “was my death faked or something?”

  This was it, the moment of truth, literally. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “So the article was a mistake?”

  “No.”

  He looked straight at her. “What, you’re saying I died?” He was smiling, as if the thought was too ridiculous to take seriously. Which it was.

  “Yes, you died.”

  He looked at her for a few seconds then shook his head and closed the laptop, picking it up from his lap and placing it onto the coffee table.

  “But I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

  “This is going to sound insane, I know that, but I swear it is the truth.” She took a deep breath and blurted it out. “You died and you became a ghost.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds then burst into laughter. Laila watched him helplessly. She could tell him the truth, she could answer every question he had, but she had no clue what to do if he just flat out didn’t believe her.

  “You can’t be seriously telling me I’m a ghost,” he said.

  “Not now, no, but you were. For almost five years.”

  “I just can’t...” He stopped and shook his head. Standing abruptly, he limped to the window and stared out. “This is insane.” He turned back to her. “You couldn’t think I would believe this.”

  She stood, moving forward a couple of steps, but stopping when he backed away. Terrified he would leave again, she stepped back.

  “Please,” she said, holding her hands out, palms up, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I’m sorry, you seem like a very nice person, it’s just...” He sighed. “I don’t know you and...”

  “And I sound crazy?”

  He nodded.

  The intercom buzzed and Laila went to answer it, glad for the brief reprieve to gather her thoughts. She almost cried when Trish’s frantic voice answered her “hello”.

  “I only got your message when I got out of a meeting twenty minutes ago and then I drove straight home, but no-one was in so I came here. What happened? How’s Denny? He didn’t go to my house, did he? They didn’t see him, did they? Please tell me he’s okay?”

  Laila grabbed the opportunity to speak as Trish paused for breath.

  “Everything’s okay, Trish, they didn’t see him. He’s fine, just a bit confused. He’s right here. Come up.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Laila said when she’d buzzed Trish in.

  “Is that really her?” Denny said. The same expression he’d had when she had found him sitting on the floor outside the flat was on his face, vulnerable and afraid.

  She tried to encourage him with her smile. “Yes, it’s her.”

  Relief flooded his face and her chest flooded with pain. She understood why he didn’t trust her, but after all they’d been through, after all the love they had shared, it was like a knife was twisting in her heart. She turned away before he saw her tears and walked to the door, opening it and walking into the corridor, wrapping her arms around her body to keep herself from falling apart.

  When Trish emerged from the lift, she immediately came to a halt at the sight of Laila’s tear streaked face.

  Laila shook her head, wiping her eyes.

  “It’s okay, he’s in here,” she said, stepping aside to let her in.

  She gave Laila’s hand an encouraging squeeze as she passed.

  As soon as they saw each other, Trish flew into Denny’s arms. Laila watched as they stood holding each other for a long time as Trish cried, feeling a little like a voyeur, but with no choice but to wait.

  “Trish?” Denny said, looking at her uncertainly when she loosened her hold on him.

  “It’s so glad to see you awake,” she said, smiling through her tears.

  He frowned. “Trish, what’s going on?”

  She took his hand and led him back to the sofa.

  “I’m just going to leave you alone,” Laila said quickly, feeling the need to get away. “I’ll go and buy you some shoes.”

  She grabbed her bag and keys from the kitchen counter and left, closing the door as her composure began to slip. She managed to make it to her car, where she locked herself in and finally burst into tears.

  ***

  The way Trish was holding onto both his hands with both of hers, as if she would never let go, was worrying him. Denny looked at them. She hadn’t held onto him like that since their parents had died, at the funeral two years ago. Or should that be seven years ago? Had it really been five years? Laila’s story that he had died and become some kind of spirit was ridiculous. He didn’t know what kind of game she was playing, but he didn’t believe her for one second. She seemed nice and, although he wasn’t an expert in what women were thinking, her declaration that she loved him had appeared genuine, if a little creepy. But she had to be delusional. She must have made up that newspaper article.

  It was a pity. She was a knockout.

  But Trish was here now, she would clear this up. There was no-one he trusted in the world more than his big sister. Even now, at the ages of thirty-three and thirty-five, she looked out for him.

  No wait, thirty-eight and forty. He grimaced internally. That wasn’t good. Although, when he’d looked in the mirror in the bathroom, he couldn’t see any difference at all in his appearance, no wrinkles, no white hairs, nothing. That was weird, but he was grateful he was aging so well. He could see a slight difference in Trish’s face though. Not much, just a handful of tiny wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead. It was strange to see.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked him, pulling him from his study of her face.

  “Physically, fine,” he said, “but I have no idea what’s going on.” He smiled. “You’ll never believe what that woman told me.”

  “That you died and have been a ghost for the last five years?”

  “Oh, she told you that too? What’s with her anyway? Why is she living in my flat? Does she have some kind of medication she isn’t taking or something?”

  She didn’t answer immediately and the way she was staring at him triggered his apprehension again. “Trish?”

  “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, gazing at his face.

  He smiled. “You sound like you haven’t seen me in years.”

  When she looked down, his gut twisted.

  “Denny, you know I love you and I would never lie to you, don’t you?”

  “Well, there was that time when you broke my Action Man making him abseil down the wardrobe to save your Barbie and blamed it on the cat,” he said, trying to lighten the moment which was getting uncomfortable.

  She smiled wordlessly and he looked down.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said.

  She sighed. “Laila was telling you the truth. Almost five years ago, you died. Your body was cremated. Your ashes were buried. We bought a headstone. I lost my baby brother.”

  She stopped and Denny could see deep pain in her eyes. His chest tightened. It was one thing to be told by a stranger he had died, but to hear it from his sister frightened him. It couldn’t be true. Could it?

  “No,” he whispered.

  Trish nodded her head. “Yes. It almost destroyed me. The only reason I got through it was because of John and Jay. But I have missed you every day since.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  Denny let go of her hands and slumped back into the sofa, closing his eyes. The room was spinning and he took some deep breaths, trying to concentrate
on not passing out.

  “For almost five years I missed you,” she continued, “until Laila knocked on my door three weeks ago.”

  He opened his eyes. “And told you I was a ghost?” he said. He couldn’t believe Trish would have fallen for that.

  She smiled. “No. First she lied to me then she broke into my house and stole from me.”

  Trish continued to tell him about their fight to save him, relating what Laila had told her and how she had been involved. She told him about how they were reunited and what he himself had told her about his years as a ghost. Denny listened to each word with mounting dismay.

  It all sounded so impossible, but this was Trish. He knew deep in his heart she wouldn’t lie to him. He had no choice but to believe her. But believing and accepting were two different things. If he never regained his memories, would he ever be able to really come to terms with what had happened to him? None of it felt real to him.

  After an hour, Trish had to return to work.

  “I promise I’ll be back later,” she said.

  He nodded, although he wished she would stay. She was the one rock in his sea of uncertainty.

  “About Laila,” she said, “I know you don’t know her, but you can trust her.” She smiled. “Remember when you used to laugh at the thought that you’d ever want to get married and I told you that one day you’d find the right girl and everything would be different?”

  He nodded. He truly thought he wasn’t the marrying kind. The women he dated were always fun, and he thought he’d even fallen in love a couple of times, and had his heart broken on both occasions, but it was never different.

  Trish took his hand and fixed her eyes on his. “She’s the one. She loves you and she would do anything for you. I hope you’ll remember everything that’s happened in the past five years, but even if you don’t, don’t let her go. Give her a chance and I know you’ll fall in love with her again.”

  A multitude of thoughts were zinging around Denny’s mind after Trish left, clamouring for his attention. He made himself another sandwich while he tried to think logically about everything his sister had told him.

  If he accepted the concept of ghosts being real, he had to admit that it all made sense. Everything fit together. If he could get past the whole ghost thing. The whole ghost thing was a lot to get past. He had to admit, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get past it. Because if he accepted that it had all happened, then he had to accept that his life was irrevocably changed. He had lost his friends, his job, almost his whole past.

  All the things that had made his life his were gone to him. All he had left were Trish and Laila.

  Laila. The love of his life, Trish wanted him to believe. But he didn’t know her. He’d been seeing Chrissy for three weeks and he liked her. Alright, so dating her had apparently cost him his life and that was five years ago anyway so she probably didn’t remember who he was any more, but to him it was yesterday. How could he be expected to just let her go and fall for Laila? How could he be expected to let any of what he’d had go, just like that?

  He carried his sandwich to the dining table and sat, eating and looking out of the window. He was lost in remembering his previous life when he heard the door open and turned to see Laila walk in.

  Well, he thought, at least she isn’t hard to look at.

  “Is Trish gone?” she said, looking around.

  “She had to get back to work. But she said she’d be back later.”

  She nodded and walked to the table, placing carrier bags down on the wooden surface.

  Now she was closer, Denny could see her eyes were ringed in red, as if she’d been crying. He suddenly felt sorry for her. If they had been as close as Trish said they were, his loss of memory must have been devastating for her. And he’d pretty much accused her of being out of her mind and lying to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “for not believing you.”

  She smiled slightly and sat down at the table. “It’s okay,” she said, “it’s such a crazy sounding thing. I don’t blame you for not believing me. I wouldn’t have either.”

  She emptied the bags out on the table. “I bought you these,” she said, pushing a shoe box towards him. “I hope they fit okay. I didn’t really know if they’d be what you want, but I thought everyone needs a pair of trainers and you can choose whatever else you want for yourself.”

  He wondered how he was going to do that, without any money or any identification to get some.

  The trainers were black with silver accents. He liked them

  “Thank you,” he said, “these are great. They’re exactly what I would have bought.”

  She smiled then, a genuine, warm smile. It was stunning and Denny found himself staring. He quickly looked back at the trainers, pretending to study them.

  “I also bought you socks and, um, underwear. I thought you would prefer briefs to boxers as that’s what you wore when you were...” she suddenly stopped and he looked at her in time to see her face flush.

  Oh my, he thought, we were sleeping together. Then he realised how stupid that was. Of course they were sleeping together. If he’d been in love with a woman who looked like Laila and he wasn’t having sex with her, he’d have really been dead. The thought made him chuckle.

  “What’s funny?” she said, smiling.

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. “Thank you, for all this.” He indicated everything on the table.

  She nodded and for a while they were quiet.

  “So, Trish told you everything?” she said eventually.

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s quite a story. If it hadn’t been her telling me, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  She smiled. “You didn’t.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry,” he said again. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Trish told me about what you had to do to bring me back.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then took hold of her left arm and turned it over. A dressing covered the place where he knew the incision was she’d endured for him, twice. He touched it gently with his fingertips.

  Trish’s description of what happened had astounded him, not least because of Laila’s unrelenting determination to do whatever it took to help him. He certainly couldn’t imagine any of the other women he’d been with doing so much for him. This beautiful woman that he didn’t know had risked arrest, possible imprisonment, endured her family thinking she was losing her mind and had gone through pain and mutilation, all for him. He’d never experienced a love like that. It was mind-boggling.

  “I wish I could remember,” he said, still staring at the dressing.

  He looked at his own left arm which was unblemished and found himself wishing he could see a scar there, some physical reminder on his own body of what had happened. Something to connect him to five years he had no recollection of at all.

  He suddenly realised he was still holding her arm, cradling it in his hand. He let go and sat back, feeling awkward.

  “Does it hurt?” he said.

  She shook her head. “Not really, not unless I press on it. I shouldn’t need the dressing for much longer. I’ll have a scar, but I don’t mind. It’s a small price to pay.”

  Her eyes were lowered to her arm and as he stared at her she looked back up at him, her luminous green eyes locking on his. The depth of love he saw shocked him. He couldn’t imagine what he could have done to deserve that kind of love from a woman like her. Surely she could have any man she wanted. Any living man. Why him? Why a ghost with nothing to offer her?

  He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to endure the all kinds of embarrassment such a question would lead to. So he kept quiet and she looked away again.

  “Maybe your laptop would help jog your memory,” she said, her face lighting up. She stood and walked into the bedroom.

  “I have a laptop?”

  It hadn’t even occurred to Denny that would be the case. He’d seen two in the flat, one on the coffee table by the sofa and one in the bedroom, but he’d j
ust assumed Laila had two for some reason.

  She emerged from the bedroom with the laptop he’d seen in there.

  “I bought you this the day after we met,” she said, placing the computer in front of him on the table and sitting down next to him.

  “You did?”

  “You didn’t have anything of your own,” she said, shrugging. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

  To Denny, something nice meant a box of chocolates, a thank you letter, maybe a meal at a classy restaurant. Buying a laptop went far beyond nice. Laptops moved into the realm of incredible. The more he learned about Laila, the more he could see why he had loved her.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I can see how lucky I was to have you.”

  She glanced at him as she logged him on and smiled, flushing slightly, returning her attention to the screen. It was adorable. He realised he was staring again and forced his attention to the rest of the room.

  “You play the piano?” he said.

  “Oh, no. Well, you were trying to teach me, but I’m not very good.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Me neither, although I owned a piano for two years. I always wanted to play well.”

  She looked at him then and her mouth widened into a smile that took his breath away. “You do.”

  ***

  Trish returned as soon as she finished work and later Kelly also visited, so between them several hours passed when Laila and Denny had company. Laila didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse.

  She and Denny chatted for a while on their own, but it was light, mostly small talk. The kind of discourse you had on a first date over coffee with someone you’d just met. It felt awkward and so far away from any conversation they’d ever had that Laila was relieved when it was over.

  But what else could she expect? For him to fall madly in love with her after only having known her for a few hours? She tried to think positively, telling herself that it would take time for him to get to know her again, but she couldn’t help thinking that he may never again feel the way he had about her before.

 

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