“What about a bar?” I asked. “Feel like putting your story on a bar?”
“The bar is kind of dirty.”
“And your story is clean?”
Josh laughed. “You really know how to push at me, love. I like that about you.”
“Yeah, well there’s a lot I like about you too, Josh.”
“Like what?” he asked.
I pointed to the bar. “Sorry, it’s too dirty here. Remember?”
With one quick move, Josh reached across the bar and took my right wrist. “When are you free again?”
His fingers stroked the inside of my wrist, sending tingling pulses across my body.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule. I’m very busy.”
“There’s more I have to tell you. And I will.”
“I’m not hard to find.”
“Neither am I, love.”
“I would never want to bother an artist hard at work.”
“Except you already did that,” he said. “You couldn’t get the hot water to work. Remember?”
I swallowed hard.
He grinned.
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry, but we have to get out of here,” Aaron said as he returned to the bar.
“Free time is up,” Josh said. He pulled his hand from mine and downed the rest of his beer. “Better make sure this guy gets home in one piece. Or else it’ll all be my fault.”
I lost my breath for a second, wondering what to say next to Josh.
I wanted him to stay.
I wanted him to keep drinking.
I wanted him to tell me everything.
“Come on, let’s roll,” Aaron said. He put money on the bar. “Good to see you again, Amelia.”
“You too,” I said. “Have a good night.”
I watched them walk away and Mags passed behind me.
“I hope you’re sleeping with at least one of them,” she said. “Or both.”
I opened my mouth, but she was already down at the other end of the bar.
I looked forward and Josh and Aaron were gone.
I missed Josh. I liked Josh. I more than liked Josh, just like before when I was too young to know what that meant.
My heart was racing.
My heart was ready for whatever was going to happen by getting too close to him.
Chapter 29
A Meeting IV
A LITTLE WHILE AGO
(Josh)
“There’s a different version of the dream,” I said.
“Is there?”
“Yeah,” I said as I ran a hand through my hair.
“Are you still on a plane?”
“Yeah. Except it’s a private plane. Small. Maybe enough room for twelve people. But I’m the only one in the plane.”
“No pilot?”
“No pilot.”
“Yet the plane is flying.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I’m sitting there with this little table in front of me. Looking at pictures. Like actual pictures, right? Photographs. And they’re all of her. Except that she’s older. She’s older as though she never…”
I let the last word hang somewhere between my lips and the air.
“Let me pause you there for a second, Josh. You never complete the sentence. You’ll use the word gone. You’ll say not here. You’ll throw out not around. But you never say the word.”
“What word is that?” I asked.
“You know what word. The final word, Josh. The one that brings it full circle. I think if you at least spoke the word once, it would help bring a small sense of closure. Or at least acceptance of what happened. It doesn’t make it easier, Josh. It’s not going to. I’m not going to lie to you. But by using the word, you begin to face the truth. And when you face the truth, that’s when you can find your sense of healing.”
I knew what was right and wrong. I knew the word. I had spoken it a million times in my head. I whispered it to myself at three in the morning when the world slept and I rolled in my bed of anger.
“Do you want to hear about the fucking dream or not?” I asked.
“Of course I do. Please continue.”
“So, I’m staring at all these pictures of her. I mean it was… she was a teenager in one of them. This beautiful young woman. And then a picture of her at a prom. In this dress with these flowers and her hair done perfectly, looking like a real woman. It was overwhelming to look at. So, I scooped up the pictures and moved them aside. Sometimes in the dreams it feels like there are two versions of me. The version of me who believes it’s real. Then the version of me who knows it’s a dream. And I’m screaming at the other version to keep going. To keep looking at those pictures. But it didn't happen. So I reached for the window. There was this little tan shade that was closed. So I opened it. Don’t worry, the plane was actually in the air. I was actually flying.”
I paused.
I looked around the comfortable office.
It pissed me off that I was actually comfortable. It meant I was coming here too often. I had a spot to sit. A spot to stand. My favorite place to pace. I could navigate the building without worrying what floor or door to look for.
“Josh? Are you okay?”
“She was there,” I said.
“Where?”
“Outside the plane.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was flying. She was the age… you know… and she was flying. Her arms open. A cape on her back. Her hair dancing behind her in the wind. And she smiled at me. The biggest smile I could ever imagine seeing. I opened my mouth to say something and I woke up.”
“What did you feel when you woke up?”
“Anger.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want the dream to end.”
“Let’s pretend the dream didn’t end. What would you have said to her?”
“I have no idea. That’s why I wanted the dream to keep going.”
“Maybe the dream ended because you didn’t know what to say. Maybe that’s her way of suggesting to you to figure out what to say.”
“So you’re suddenly spiritual here? You think someone who is… gone… can appear in a dream like that?”
“I never said that. I’m just keeping our conversation open.”
“Well, you know what? Maybe it’s just a fucking dream. Like the
