Worlds Apart

The wind is shaking leaves off the trees violently, coating the ground in a thick layer - the first sign that winter is fast approaching. The sun has already partially set down under the horizon, and I know I should feel the biting cold but I do not. I do not feel anything, though I desperately wish that I could. I should feel the wind whipping against my skin, or the hard ground sucking the warmth out of my body and leaving me huddled into my coat for warmth, but I do not. Beside me, Jason is starting to shiver, huddling into his own jacket. I cannot help but roll my eyes; Jason always was underdressed for the weather. If I could speak with him, he would not be cold right now. I would have told him to wear another layer. But, I guess, by that same logic he would also not be sitting in a cemetery next to my grave right now.

He has been sitting here all day, barely moving. I wish I could ask what he is thinking, like I have on so many occasions before. His face is virtually unreadable. He is void of any emotion and this scares me. I wish he would say something. I wish he would acknowledge that I am here, but I know he cannot.

“Please say something,” I murmur, hugging my knees to my chest.

I do not really expect a reaction from him. I have asked him to speak multiple times already, though I know it is futile. However, this time is different. I know it has to be a coincidence, there is no way he heard me, but Jason seems to be snapped out of his trance by my words.

“I miss you,” he blurts out, speaking not to me but to my headstone.

“I miss you too,” I whisper.

I can see tears beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes and it feels like my chest collapses on itself. Even though it kills me to do so, I force myself to stare deep into his eyes, the same eyes I used to get lost in. His eyes are the kind that change colors depending on the lighting and the clothes he wears. Now, with the tears clearly visible, they appear to be the deepest blue I have ever seen, as dark as the ocean at the start of a storm.

“Why’d you leave me?” he demands, hostility clear in his tone. “Why the fuck would you leave?”

I cannot say anything to this.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he continues, his tone considerably softer now. “I can’t do anything without thinking of you, I can’t do anything at all. I thought it would get easier with time but it only feels harder. I keep expecting to see you, and I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re gone. Every time I see your picture it feels like I’m dying,” he stops talking and chokes down a sob. There is a brief moment of silence before he can gather himself enough to continue. “Why wasn’t I with you? Why wasn’t it me?”

I blanch at the meaning behind his words. He wanted to be dead? I could not believe what I was hearing; anger and adrenaline suddenly rushed through me.

“You can’t say that,” I hiss at him, though I know he cannot hear me. “You’re not allowed to think like that, Jason. I won’t let you. You want to know what you’re supposed to do? You’re supposed to go home and hang out with our friends. You’re supposed to go to school and get through the whole day without thinking of me. You’re supposed to forget about me.”

Those are probably the hardest words I will ever have to say, even though they will never be heard. I know they are the truth, but that does not make them any easier to accept. Jason has to forget about me. I know he will forget about me, maybe not soon, but someday. He will find another girl and maybe this one will be able to stay for him. Things happen for a reason, and obviously Jason and I were never meant to be.

Jason is crying now. I am surprised that I am not. I did not even realize I had gotten to my feet during my rant, and I sit down next to him again. I want to wrap my arm around him, and more than anything I want him to wrap his arm around me. I consider trying but then think better of it. What if he feels my ghostly embrace? That would be far from comforting.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, hugging my knees to my chest again and looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

I resign myself to sitting in silence again with that unbearable, unbreachable distance between us. We stay like this for a while, I am not sure exactly how long, before finally he sighs and starts fumbling in his pocket for his car keys.

“I love you,” he murmurs before standing up and leaving me without even a second glance.

***

I do not sleep anymore. Maybe it is a side effect of being dead, or maybe my terrible sleeping patterns have followed me here. I find it funny, in the ironic way not the humorous way, that death is often compared to a permanent sleep. I do not sleep anymore.

Nights were always the worst when I lived. Darkness was always the cue for my head thoughts to go wild. It came on slowly, and was almost imperceptible, but then would suddenly be upon me all at once, the way one day the leaves outside are vibrant and full of life and then suddenly they are dead on the ground and you are left wondering what happened to the time in-between. My head would feel like it was expanding with each hour, but by morning I would be left feeling light headed and empty.

No one told me death would be like this, too. If I had known, would things be different? I was never religious, so I never could picture myself going to heaven, but I never imagined death was being condemned to move among the living, invisible. Every religion has some type of afterlife. Well, I am in neither heaven nor hell, I am not reincarnated, I am not in limbo, I am not in purgatory, I am not among the spirits of others who passed before me. I do not exist. Is this my own personal hell? I cannot think of anything I could have ever done while living to deserve this. My own worst fears are being confirmed: there is no God, there is no afterlife - there is only pain.

I cannot bear to sit in our room through these nights. It has become a habit to wander the town while I wait for everyone to wake. Sometimes, I just walk until I see the hints of dawn coming. Sometimes, I visit everyone I ever knew to see who is awake. Sometimes, I go to the old playground behind the elementary school. Sometimes, I go to the cemetery, on the off chance I might find another lost soul there. I never do. Tonight I am walking aimlessly around town. I already visited everyone and they are all asleep. The only person I did not try to see is Jason, I can only put myself through so much agony. I guess that is one trait I brought with me even through death – my inability to deal with pain.

Dawn approaches and the feelings of numbness and emptiness are punctual as usual. I round the corner and approach my house, only to find that there is a light on. I wonder idly who could be up at this hour. As I come closer, I can see that you are sitting in the living room through the illuminated window. It does not take me much longer to see that you are not alone. If the emptiness had not already sunk in deep to my core, I would be feeling something right now. I would be angry, upset, confused, betrayed. But I feel none of this. Instead, I simply stare through the window from the front lawn, watching Jason comforting you with his arm wrapped tight around your shoulders on the couch.

It takes a while before I feel anything. After maybe ten minutes or so of watching Jason try to comfort you, the numbness starts to slowly fade away. I am left with a deep rolling rage in my belly mixed with confusion and topped off with doubt. I try to breathe slowly and not jump to conclusions. Was this merely a platonic hug? Maybe. Or maybe there was something going on behind my back. Maybe this had been going on even before I died. Would Jason betray me like that? Would you? I never would have thought you would, but the hard evidence is staring me in the face.

I find myself moving closer to try and hear you speak. Before I know it, I have passed through the wall and am standing in the living room across from the couch where you and Jason are perched together.

“Thanks for coming,” you whisper, leaning your head down on his shoulder.

Jason merely nods.

I study his face. Does he want to be here? Did you ask him, or did he volunteer? It seems like the ultimate betrayal, to mourn over my grave by morning and then leave my side to go to yours by night. I still need him. I still need to be comforted. Do I even matter anymore? And you, I never thought my sister of all people would do this.

“I couldn’t be alone anymore,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, me either.”

There is silence for a while. No one moves. You and Jason sit still on the couch, presumably lost in your own thoughts, while I stand, fuming, in the corner. This is not what I meant by Jason moving on. He should not be touching you, and you should not be touching him. God, do either of you have any ethics?

“I should go, before my parents find out I snuck out or yours see me here,” Jason finally says softly, disentangling his arm from your body.

“Okay,” you say, but I can hear the disappointment in your voice.

I feel vindictive, and can honestly say I am glad you are hurting from his leaving. Good. You know how I feel.

Jason stands up and you follow suit. There is an awkward moment when neither of you seem to know what do to. There is no protocol, it seems, for spending the night with your dead sister’s boyfriend. You suddenly throw your arms around him and mutter goodbye before quickly letting go.

“Um,” Jason hesitates. “See you tomorrow? Or tonight?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, and then quickly but quietly run upstairs.

Jason watches your back before turning and leaving, making sure to lock the front door behind him.

And that is that. In ten short minutes, I have come to the realization that my death is not monumental. I am not as important as I thought I was. I think to how I would feel if either you or Jason died – I would be ruined. There is nothing worse than realizing that you come second to those that you put first.

I have also come to the realization that it is possible to die more than once. First is the death where the soul leaves the body. Everyone knows about this one. But what people do not always know is the second death everyone experiences eventually. That comes when your name is spoken for the last time. That comes when anything you ever did in life becomes irrelevant. That comes when you become obsolete.

I have made the awful discovery that though my life has stopped, everyone else’s moves on.