Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series Book#1)
Page 20
Chapter 18
Life returned to normal after that. Painfully normal. I returned to school and tried to act normal. I told myself if I could convince other people, maybe eventually I could convince myself.
Normal. I was learning to hate the word normal and everything it represented.
At first, whenever I was alone, I would wander the empty rooms of the house. I kept thinking maybe, just maybe, I would see or feel something that would give be hope.
“Alastor?” I called out to the vacant space of the study, “Are you here?”
There was never an answer. How I hated that silence.
I tried to capture the feeling of him, some small trace of him left behind. I knelt in the floor of the study, touching the pale spot in the wood where his blood was spilled.
It felt so intimate touching those faded boards. I wanted to rip them all up and hold them in my arms. It was a crazy thought, but I was desperate to feel close to him.
The garden where the memory of Alastor had been so real for me was now brown and barren. I walked it every day, lingering by the roses. A few withered blooms still clung to the dried stems, but the magical beauty was gone.
It was just a house and yard now. There was nothing special about it. Just like everything else, it went back to normal.
I hated normal.
Dad stared at me over the dinner table every night. Worry always lined his face. He didn’t seem to know what to say to me since he didn’t know what it was that had me so upset.
“Are you okay?” Dad asked when I asked to be excused from the table without eating.
“I’m fine,” I lied, trying to smile.
Dad narrowed his eyes and shook his head, “Well something is going on.”
“Not really.”
He cleared his throat and folded his hands under his chin, “Did you and Jonah make up yet?”
“What? No!” I snapped, not wanting to even think about Jonah. It seemed so unfaithful to Alastor.
Wiping his mouth with his linen napkin, Dad leaned back in his chair. “Well whatever it is, do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” I answered simply.
He studied me for a moment, and then tossed his napkin beside his plate. “Then you’re excused.”
I fled his concerned look. I ran back up to my room where I didn’t have to pretend. I could be as sad as I wanted. It was a relief to not have to act like I wasn’t devastated.
Across the room, propped up against the lamp on my night table, Alastor watched me from the confines of his sepia photograph in a shining new frame. Picking it up, I stretched out on my bed. I studied the image, trying to convince myself it had all been real.
The faded photo didn’t do his brilliant blue eyes justice. They were merely a pale blur frozen in time. I wished I could reach into that picture, through the portals of time, and pull him back into my world.
The absence of him was everywhere. If it wasn’t for that photograph, it would have been like he never existed. There would be times that I would begin to doubt that it all happened, and then I would look at that photograph and know that it was all true.
Each night, after the pretense of dinner and after I struggled through whatever homework I remembered to bring home, I lay in bed and stared at that photograph until I fell asleep.
Wherever he was, could he feel how much I missed him?
There seemed to be no end to my grief. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but there were times I would swear mine were growing deeper with each passing day.
My only relief was sleep. Only then was I able to let go of the pain. Deep asleep and dreaming, I could be with Alastor again.
The doctor that discharged me from the hospital added the diagnosis of post-traumatic stress from the accident and prescribed some mild sleeping pills to help me rest. I couldn’t wait to get to sleep each night. I felt like I was rushing through my day just to get back home, back to bed, and back to my dreams.
In my dreams, it was prom night again. Jonah had just excused himself and I was standing there waiting for his return. Across the room came Alastor, not as Jonah this time, but as himself.
He took me in his arms and led me out to the dance floor. All of the other students disappeared and it was just us, flesh and blood in the center of the room.
I kept trying to speak, to tell him how miserable I was and that I was sorry, but Alastor kept putting his fingers to my lips.
“Let me have this one moment,” He would whisper.
I never dreamed of anything else. It was always of that one moment dancing in the dark with him.
Even in my dream, I knew that it wouldn’t last. I held him tightly, pressing my face to his chest. I inhaled the sweet smell of his flesh and touched the rough stubble of his cheek.
Just give me this one moment…
I wanted so bad to hold onto it, but I felt myself losing my grasp on sleep. I was floating away from that magical memory and back to the here and now.
No…Not yet…
I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I was trying to will myself back to sleep. I knew once I awoke I would be alone again and Alastor would just be a memory.
No…Not yet…
Despite my best efforts, I always woke up. I looked around at my room, always just the same.
I sat up and switched on the lamp. On a good night, I could stare at the picture of Alastor until I grew sleepy again. On a bad night, I would still be staring at his photograph when the sun came up.
I wondered if I could ever be whole again. Over one hundred years ago, we promised to love each other until death do us part. Now we both had broken that vow and loved each other long after that.
It confused me to think about that long ago Becca and myself. We were the same person, but separated through time. That other Becca loved Alastor, but killed him just the same. And what was I doing to him?
Was my longing for him keeping him from crossing over? Was my love preventing him from finding peace? Was I trapping his very soul?
I hated to think those things were true, but perhaps it was time to let him go…
I wasn’t sure that I could really say goodbye.
I walked down Capitol Avenue, keeping my head down. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to try to answer them if they asked where I was going.
My knees were shaking. I knew that I was lying to myself. It wasn’t just that I needed to say goodbye. I needed to be close to him again.
I crossed through the gates of Cedar Hill Cemetery. It looked so different in the late autumn sun. The fallen leaves circles my feet in breeze as I walked toward Alastor’s headstone.
I stopped at a fresh grave, silently asking for forgiveness as I plucked a single rose from the clusters of arrangements. Somewhere there was a family crying for this person, but I didn’t think about them. I just couldn’t go to Alastor’s grave empty handed.
The sun was starting to sink behind the trees and the air held a leaf scented chill when I stepped up to the stone and ran my fingers over Alastor’s name. I knelt on the grass, not caring that the ground was damp. I closed my eyes, remembering his face and the sound of his velvety voice.
I placed the rose on the ground and a chill ran through me. I wasn’t sure anymore if any of it was real. Was it love that brought me here or was it fantasy?
It was so hard to hold onto my memories of Alastor in the reality of day to day life. The only time I felt him close was when I was dreaming and he could hold me in his warm and dark embrace. Part of me never wanted to wake up, I wanted to stay asleep forever so that nothing would ever change, but I knew that wasn’t possible.
My heart trembled in my chest at the idea that I would never see Alastor again; it beat against my ribs painfully. Until the day that I die, I knew that my heart would ache for him with every beat.
I had to admit it. It was over. The only thing left for me to do was to set his spirit free.
Forcing myself to stand, I brushed the leaves and dirt f
rom my jeans. One last time I reached out and touched the mossy stone.
“Goodbye Alastor,” I whispered, turned, and left the cemetery. Even as the tears fell down my cheeks, I told myself it was better this way.