Every Touch (15 page)

   Laila was also staring at where their hands were wrapped around each other.

   “Can... can you speak to me?” she said. 

   He looked at her helplessly.  He didn’t know how to say no.

   “Oh, sorry, stupid me,” she said, “if you can’t you can’t tell me you can’t.”

   He smiled at her response, fighting the urge to hug her.

   “How about, you tap my hand once for yes and twice for no.  Okay?”

   He stared at her for a moment.  She was asking him a question, and he had a way to answer.  Communication.  He was going to speak to her, kind of.  So he’d better get on with it, he suddenly thought.  He looked at their hands, so entwined he wasn’t sure where to tap.  Then he had an idea.  He brought his free hand up and tapped lightly on the inside of her wrist.  Once.

   Her face lit up in a smile that made him want to laugh out loud.  She wasn’t running away.  She wasn’t freaking out.  This was the best day of his life.  Or his death.

   “Okay,” she said.  “So, can you speak to me?”

   Two taps, no.

   “Right,” she said, “can I see you somehow?”

   Again two taps.

   “Okay, so all I can do is touch you?”

   One tap.

   “Um, okay.”  She seemed to be thinking.  She hadn’t let go of his hand.  He hoped she never did.  “Please excuse me if this sounds like a stupid question, but are you like, the invisible man?”

   No.

   “Are you,” she paused, looking nervous, “a ghost?”

   He looked at her.  He didn’t want to answer her.  What if this was what scared her?  He sighed and tapped her wrist once, waiting for her to snatch her hand away and run screaming.

  She was silent for a while, not moving.  Then she nodded her head, once.

   “Okay,” she said.  “And now I know.” 

   She brought her free hand to her face.  It was shaking.  Denny suddenly noticed how pale she looked. 

   “I think...” she said, “I think I need to sit...”

   Her hold on his hand loosened, her eyes fluttered closed and she began to slide down the fridge door. 

   He grabbed her before she fell and scooped her up.  For a few seconds he just looked at her, feeling her in his arms, her body against his.  He wanted to keep holding her, wanted to be this close to her forever.  Now he had her in his arms, he didn’t ever want to let her go.  But he didn’t want her to panic when she came to and found herself seemingly hovering in mid-air. 

   He walked over to the sofa, laying her gently down.  Making sure she was comfortable, he sat on the coffee table and waited nervously.  He took her hand.  After some thought, he put it down again.  Then he picked it up again.  He didn’t know what to do.  Was it best to be there so she could feel him when she woke?  Or would that frighten her?  He gazed at her hand in his.  It looked like it belonged there, her small hand fitting perfectly into his larger one.  He decided to keep hold of it, hoping it would feel comforting when she came to. 

   Just then she began to stir.  He put her hand down immediately.

   She slowly opened her eyes and looked around, touching one hand to her face. 

   “What on earth...” she began, then her eyes widened.  “Are... are you there?”

   Denny touched her hand softly and she immediately wrapped her fingers around him, making him gasp.

   “I fainted, didn’t I?” she said.

   He tapped her wrist once. 

   He was looking at their hands.  The speed with which she’d grabbed his hand, the way she was holding it so tight, had left him breathless. 

   “You must think I’m such a lightweight,” she said.

   He immediately tapped twice, wishing he could tell her she was the bravest person he’d ever met.  She smiled.

   “I’m feeling a bit light headed,” she said, “would you mind if I just lay here for a while?  And,” she paused, looking down, “do you mind if I keep holding your hand?”

   He felt like someone had just picked him up and squeezed him tight, pushing all the air from his body.  Did he
mind
?  He would stay there for the rest of her life and hold her hand if she wanted him to, never moving again, just to be with her. 

   He tapped her wrist twice.

   She looked confused. 

   “Hold on,” she said, “is that no, you don’t mind me holding your hand or no, you don’t want me to hold your hand?”

   He frowned.  This could get awkward.

   “Okay, I can see I need to phrase things better,” she said, “so my question is, can I keep holding your hand?”

   He tapped once and she smiled.

   “Thank you,” she said.  “I’m just going to close my eyes for a while.”

   She snuggled down into the sofa, closing her eyes, and brought her other hand over to take his, so she was holding onto him with both hands.  After a while her breathing became deep and regular as she fell asleep. 

   Denny gazed at her, thinking that he only breathed out of habit anyway so if he never did again, it wouldn’t really matter.

Laila woke slowly with that groggy feeling that comes with sleeping when you’d usually be awake. 

   The first thing she felt was the hand in hers.  She was momentarily startled, until she remembered what had happened.  She hadn’t intended to fall asleep.  She was surprised she had, after how terrified she’d been after Avery’s attack. 

   She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been.  Of all people, Laila should have recognised what was going on with him.  But she’d been blinded, by her loneliness, by his charm and apparent kindness.  How could it have happened to her a second time?  Why did she keep attracting these type of men?  Was there something about her that said, I’m a victim? 

   She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if it hadn’t been for... him. 

   She knew it was a man who had saved her, she could feel his hand, larger than hers, the soft hairs on the back.  A ghost.  That was going to take some getting used to.  Ghosts existed.  And there was one in her flat, holding her hand.  She thought she should be afraid, but his presence made her feel safe.  He had saved her. 

   She opened her eyes and felt his hand shift position slightly, as if he had moved.  She wondered how long he’d been sitting there, holding her hand as she slept. 

   “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.  I hope you haven’t been waiting there long.  You should have let go.”

   She felt two taps on the inside of her wrist.  She wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying no to, but it made her smile. She was smiling.  At something a ghost had said.  It suddenly struck her how insane the whole thing was.  Was this really happening? 

   She sat up and shook her head.  “Am I going crazy?”

   There was a brief pause before she felt the two taps on her wrist. 

   “I felt that,” she said, unable to suppress the slightly hysterical giggle welling up inside her, “I felt you pause!”

   She felt his hand begin to shake and she realised he was laughing. 

   Without thinking, she reached out her free hand towards him and encountered a hard chest clad in a soft, fitted shirt.  He froze as her hand touched him and she felt a hand rest gently on top of hers.  Her breath caught in her throat as her heart missed a beat.  His hand moved away again. 

   Suddenly embarrassed, she withdrew the hand on his chest and loosened her grip on the one she was holding, pulling away gently.  His fingers held onto hers for a moment, as if he was reluctant to let go, then opened.  She immediately missed his touch, wanting to reach out and hold him again.  She resolutely put both hands into her lap.  She didn’t want to come across as clingy.

   “We need a way to communicate,” she said, feeling awkward talking into the air and wishing she could see him. “At least, you need a way to communicate with me.  So what I’m wondering is, if you can touch me, can you touch everything else?”

   She felt a tap on her wrist.

   “So you could type then?”

   There was a pause before she felt the single tap. 

   She smiled, starting to get up.  “That’s great, so you can talk to me.” 

   She retrieved her laptop from the bedroom and went back to sit on the sofa, opening it on her lap.  Hesitating, she patted the seat next to her then held her breath.  After a few seconds, she felt a body lower onto the sofa beside her. 

   She fought an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him, instead busying her hands with turning the laptop on and opening a blank document.  She then lifted the computer and held it out towards him.  A moment later, its weight lessened in her hands as he took hold of it and she let go, watching in awe as it seemed to float through the air and came to rest a few inches above the cushion of the sofa next to her. 

   “That is so cool,” she said.

   A shaking through the back of the sofa accompanied his laughter.  He took her hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go.  She understood.  He was saying thank you.  She couldn’t stop her smile.

   The keys on the laptop keyboard began to tap and she looked at the screen.

   [hello]

   “Hello.”  An unexpected burst of happiness made her grin, before thinking how stupid she must look.  “Okay, first of all, what’s your name?”

   [Dennis Carpenter  call me Denny] 

   The words appeared slowly, with a severe dearth of punctuation and much autocorrecting, as if typing was a completely foreign activity to him.

   “It’s nice to meet you, Denny.  I’m Laila,” she said, holding out her hand without thinking, then realising how dorky that was.  She felt his hand take hers and shake it slowly, again seeming reluctant to let go.  She looked down.  “Although I suppose you know that.”

   [yes]

   “How long have you been here?  I mean around my flat?  Have you been here the whole time I’ve lived here?”

   [yes.  I can move around the rest of the building but I am here the most]

   She felt a twinge of excitement.  Was he here because of her? 

   “Why here the most?”

   There was a pause before he answered.  [I used to live here it was my flat]

   How stupid could she be?  Of course that was why, not for her. 

   “Do you mean you can’t leave the building then?”

   [no.  stuck here]

   “Because you lived here?”

   [because I died here]

   Laila gasped and clasped one hand over her mouth.  With her other hand she found his forearm and touched it softly.  She felt bare skin and a rolled up shirt sleeve. 

   “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

   [its ok. it was over 4 years ago]  There was a pause, then he added, [Im learning to live with dying]

   She laughed then hoped that it wasn’t an inappropriate response.  His hand touched the back of hers which was still on his arm, just a quick, soft touch then it was gone.  She moved her hand away self-consciously and put it in her lap, clasping her other hand around it to make it behave. 

   “Can I ask...”  She stopped, feeling awkward. 

   [how I died]  There was a pause while he found the question mark.  [?]

   “I’m sorry,” she said, “it’s none of my business.”

   [its ok.  I was murdered]

   Laila stared at the screen in shock.  “Murdered,” she whispered.

   [Im sorry I didn’t mean to scare you]

   “No, I... I’m just... that’s so awful.  I’m so sorry.” 

   She lapsed into silence, feeling horrible and wishing she hadn’t asked.  She felt his hand slip into hers and squeeze reassuringly.  She wrapped her fingers around his.  Why was it that whenever he held her hand, she felt like she never wanted to let go?

   “Did they catch your... who did it?” she said.

   He slid his hand from her grasp and she felt a stab of disappointment as cool air replaced the warmth of his skin against hers.

   [yes he is in jail]

   She felt a deep sense of relief.  If he hadn’t been caught, she had been ready to march straight out and find him herself, to do anything to get justice for Denny.  The anger she suddenly felt burning against whoever had taken his life came as a surprise.  She’d only just met him, why did she feel so strongly about it?  Maybe it was to do with what had happened, with him saving her.  Yes, that sounded right.  Bonding with her saviour. 

   She wanted to ask more about his death, but she didn’t want to make him think about the most traumatic event in his life, so she decided to change the subject.

   “How long did you live here, before, you know?”

   [six years]

   She nodded.  “And now you can’t leave.”

   [no.  I can go anywhere in the building but I can’t go outside]

   “Why not?”