“They mean well.” Theo runs a hand across the scruff of his jaw. “Their own fear holds them back from the truth. But I swear to always be honest with you. And because I know you’re going to worry, I also promise to do everything in my power to find out who you were.”
Chapter Ten
Theo makes no promises other than not to contact me until he has any legit news. Though my anticipation level starts off well past a ten, I try my darndest to concentrate the next time I have Discovering Your Unfinished Business. Unfortunately, my conversation with Theo about the possibility that a witch screwed with my memories escalates my worry to about a twelve. Not conducive to maintaining focus.
As I lay on the gray mat with my chin on my folded hands, I blow a raspberry and Ms. Alvarez chuckles. “What’s distracting you today, Ms. Martin?”
“You said you’ve dealt with ghosts who have amnesia before, right?”
“Yes.” She says the word slowly. Hesitant, maybe? I’m so sick of people creeping around me I want to glare at her. But being a jerk won’t get me any answers. Instead, I concentrate on my question.
“Had any of them lost their memories because of a spell gone wrong?”
Ms. Alvarez clears her throat, her fingers gliding along my spine. “Once.”
I count to ten, waiting for a response. When I don’t get one, I take five slow breaths before pushing her again. “Tell me about it.”
“If I do, will you promise to practice that mantra again?”
“Yes, and the truth might even help me chill out a bit. All this avoiding of scary information is just freaking me out more.”
“Very well.” Ms. Alvarez adjusts her position and runs her hand over the back of my head now. “It was a few years ago. A young man came in who also had amnesia. His case was a bit different than yours, short term only. He could remember his childhood, but nothing from the last five or six years of his life. Like you though, he’d also been missing for a little over a week, yet had no idea where he’d been.”
I swallow and mentally repeat the phrase “I’m okay,” on an inhale, and “I’m safe” on an exhale. “Did he get his memories back?”
Ms. Alvarez is quiet a moment, just stroking my hair. I fight the fear her delay creates with those words. It’s hard to keep my breathing even as my imagination makes up its own answers to this question, but I focus in on the Healer’s touch, on the feel of the mat underneath me.
“It took some time, but eventually we discovered that his memory was wiped in a summoning spell gone wrong,” Ms. Alvarez says. “Bits of his life came back to him after that. Though, I will be honest, he still struggled with short term memories until he passed on.”
“Peacefully?”
“Thankfully yes.”
I breathe out a sigh, but can’t quite release the tension in my jaw, not after all her hesitation in telling me that story. There could be a million reasons why Ms. Alvarez had a hard time sharing. Maybe she’d been close to this former student. Or maybe the memories he’d finally uncovered were super unpleasant. Either way, I work to reign in my speculations.
“Can you tell if my amnesia is related to magic gone wrong?”
“Not yet. At this point I can see that the damage came from some form of trauma and that trauma could be related to something of that nature, but I don’t want to make a guess just yet.” Ms. Alvarez brushes the hair away from my neck and rests her palm against it. “Give me a few more sessions. And don’t worry. All anxiety will do is slow down our progress.”
I’d really love not to worry, but with everything hanging over my head, it’s a little difficult.
Even worse, Ms. Troges’ statement from our first Corporeal Connections class drags along behind too. What in the realm of the dead did she mean by “crossing over planes” being a very “specific” phrase? I’ve got to ask her before I lose my ever-loving, and most tenuous, sanity.
As I head to lunch, her words swirl around in my brain along with the story Ms. Alvarez told.
“Have you asked her about it yet?” Haya asks as we load our trays with fruit and salad for her and a burger and chips for me.
“No. I’m always late to that class, and there’s no way I’m asking something like that in front of…” I swallow the name ‘Melissa’ and finish with, “everybody else.”
“Don’t blame you. But maybe you can get there before class tomorrow? If you snarf.”
I chuckle, plop into my seat, and take a massive bite of my burger. “You are a wise, wise woman,” I say around a mouthful. “I’m lucky to have you in my life, or afterlife rather.”
Haya nods magnanimously. “Yes, yes you are.”
The next morning, I obey her orders. Stuffed full of all good breakfast proteins, I dump my tray and sprint for Corporeal Contact before Rafe or Landon even enter the dining hall. The one I’m sad to miss, the other I couldn’t care less about. I skid to a stop in front of the door and knock until Ms. Troges answers.
I’m fighting for breath — still super weird since I’m dead — as she gives me a smile. “Ms. Martin. Eager to get to class on time?”
“What did you mean—” I gasp, “when you said crossing over planes was a specific phrase and that we needed to talk about it later? That’s not something you dump on somebody mic-drop style and then just leave.” I fling out a hand, quite positive I’d be sweating if I still had an actual body.
Ms. Troges smiles a little and tilts her head into the classroom. “Come on in. We’ll discuss.”
Still breathing hard, I follow her onto the
