Every Touch (41 page)

   She grabbed her bag and keys from the kitchen counter and left, closing the door as her composure began to slip.  She managed to make it to her car, where she locked herself in and finally burst into tears.

***

The way Trish was holding onto both his hands with both of hers, as if she would never let go, was worrying him.  Denny looked at them.  She hadn’t held onto him like that since their parents had died, at the funeral two years ago.  Or should that be seven years ago?  Had it really been five years?  Laila’s story that he had died and become some kind of spirit was ridiculous.  He didn’t know what kind of game she was playing, but he didn’t believe her for one second.  She seemed nice and, although he wasn’t an expert in what women were thinking, her declaration that she loved him had appeared genuine, if a little creepy.  But she had to be delusional. She must have made up that newspaper article.

   It was a pity.  She was a knockout.

   But Trish was here now, she would clear this up.  There was no-one he trusted in the world more than his big sister.  Even now, at the ages of thirty-three and thirty-five, she looked out for him. 

   No wait, thirty-eight and forty.  He grimaced internally.  That wasn’t good.  Although, when he’d looked in the mirror in the bathroom, he couldn’t see any difference at all in his appearance, no wrinkles, no white hairs, nothing.  That was weird, but he was grateful he was aging so well.  He could see a slight difference in Trish’s face though.  Not much, just a handful of tiny wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead.  It was strange to see. 

   “How are you feeling?” she asked him, pulling him from his study of her face.

   “Physically, fine,” he said, “but I have no idea what’s going on.”  He smiled.  “You’ll never believe what that woman told me.”

   “That you died and have been a ghost for the last five years?”

   “Oh, she told you that too?  What’s with her anyway?  Why is she living in my flat?  Does she have some kind of medication she isn’t taking or something?”

   She didn’t answer immediately and the way she was staring at him triggered his apprehension again.  “Trish?”

   “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, gazing at his face.

   He smiled.  “You sound like you haven’t seen me in years.”

   When she looked down, his gut twisted.

  “Denny, you know I love you and I would never lie to you, don’t you?”

   “Well, there was that time when you broke my Action Man making him abseil down the wardrobe to save your Barbie and blamed it on the cat,” he said, trying to lighten the moment which was getting uncomfortable.

   She smiled wordlessly and he looked down.

   “Yeah, I know,” he said.

   She sighed.  “Laila was telling you the truth.  Almost five years ago, you died.  Your body was cremated.  Your ashes were buried.  We bought a headstone.  I lost my baby brother.” 

   She stopped and Denny could see deep pain in her eyes.  His chest tightened.  It was one thing to be told by a stranger he had died, but to hear it from his sister frightened him.  It couldn’t be true.  Could it?

   “No,” he whispered.

   Trish nodded her head.  “Yes.  It almost destroyed me.  The only reason I got through it was because of John and Jay.  But I have missed you every day since.”  Her eyes filled with tears. 

   Denny let go of her hands and slumped back into the sofa, closing his eyes.  The room was spinning and he took some deep breaths, trying to concentrate on not passing out.

    “For almost five years I missed you,” she continued, “until Laila knocked on my door three weeks ago.”

   He opened his eyes.  “And told you I was a ghost?” he said.  He couldn’t believe Trish would have fallen for that.

   She smiled.  “No.  First she lied to me then she broke into my house and stole from me.”

   Trish continued to tell him about their fight to save him, relating what Laila had told her and how she had been involved.  She told him about how they were reunited and what he himself had told her about his years as a ghost.  Denny listened to each word with mounting dismay. 

   It all sounded so impossible, but this was Trish.  He knew deep in his heart she wouldn’t lie to him.  He had no choice but to believe her.  But believing and accepting were two different things.  If he never regained his memories, would he ever be able to really come to terms with what had happened to him?  None of it felt real to him.

   After an hour, Trish had to return to work.

   “I promise I’ll be back later,” she said.

   He nodded, although he wished she would stay.  She was the one rock in his sea of uncertainty.

   “About Laila,” she said, “I know you don’t know her, but you can trust her.”  She smiled.  “Remember when you used to laugh at the thought that you’d ever want to get married and I told you that one day you’d find the right girl and everything would be different?”

   He nodded.  He truly thought he wasn’t the marrying kind.  The women he dated were always fun, and he thought he’d even fallen in love a couple of times, and had his heart broken on both occasions, but it was never different.  

   Trish took his hand and fixed her eyes on his.  “She’s the one.  She loves you and she would do anything for you.  I hope you’ll remember everything that’s happened in the past five years, but even if you don’t, don’t let her go.  Give her a chance and I know you’ll fall in love with her again.”

   A multitude of thoughts were zinging around Denny’s mind after Trish left, clamouring for his attention.  He made himself another sandwich while he tried to think logically about everything his sister had told him. 

   If he accepted the concept of ghosts being real, he had to admit that it all made sense.  Everything fit together.
If
he could get past the whole ghost thing.  The whole ghost thing was a lot to get past.  He had to admit, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get past it.  Because if he accepted that it had all happened, then he had to accept that his life was irrevocably changed.  He had lost his friends, his job, almost his whole past. 

   All the things that had made his life his were gone to him.  All he had left were Trish and Laila. 

   Laila.  The love of his life, Trish wanted him to believe.  But he didn’t know her.  He’d been seeing Chrissy for three weeks and he liked her.  Alright, so dating her had apparently cost him his life and that was five years ago anyway so she probably didn’t remember who he was any more, but to him it was yesterday.  How could he be expected to just let her go and fall for Laila?  How could he be expected to let any of what he’d had go, just like that? 

   He carried his sandwich to the dining table and sat, eating and looking out of the window.  He was lost in remembering his previous life when he heard the door open and turned to see Laila walk in. 

   Well, he thought, at least she isn’t hard to look at.

   “Is Trish gone?” she said, looking around.

   “She had to get back to work.  But she said she’d be back later.”

   She nodded and walked to the table, placing carrier bags down on the wooden surface.

  Now she was closer, Denny could see her eyes were ringed in red, as if she’d been crying.  He suddenly felt sorry for her.  If they had been as close as Trish said they were, his loss of memory must have been devastating for her.  And he’d pretty much accused her of being out of her mind and lying to him. 

   “I’m sorry,” he said, “for not believing you.”

   She smiled slightly and sat down at the table.  “It’s okay,” she said, “it’s such a crazy sounding thing.  I don’t blame you for not believing me.  I wouldn’t have either.”

   She emptied the bags out on the table.  “I bought you these,” she said, pushing a shoe box towards him.  “I hope they fit okay.  I didn’t really know if they’d be what you want, but I thought everyone needs a pair of trainers and you can choose whatever else you want for yourself.”

   He wondered how he was going to do that, without any money or any identification to get some.

  The trainers were black with silver accents.  He liked them

   “Thank you,” he said, “these are great.  They’re exactly what I would have bought.”

   She smiled then, a genuine, warm smile.  It was stunning and Denny found himself staring.  He quickly looked back at the trainers, pretending to study them. 

   “I also bought you socks and, um, underwear.  I thought you would prefer briefs to boxers as that’s what you wore when you were...” she suddenly stopped and he looked at her in time to see her face flush.

   Oh my, he thought, we were sleeping together.  Then he realised how stupid that was.  Of course they were sleeping together.  If he’d been in love with a woman who looked like Laila and he wasn’t having sex with her, he’d have
really
been dead.  The thought made him chuckle.

   “What’s funny?” she said, smiling.

   “Nothing,” he said quickly.  “Thank you, for all this.”  He indicated everything on the table.

   She nodded and for a while they were quiet.

   “So, Trish told you everything?” she said eventually.

   “Yes,” he said.  “It’s quite a story.  If it hadn’t been her telling me, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

   She smiled.  “You didn’t.”

   “Yeah.  I’m sorry,” he said again.  “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.  Trish told me about what you had to do to bring me back.”

   He hesitated for a moment, then took hold of her left arm and turned it over.  A dressing covered the place where he knew the incision was she’d endured for him, twice.  He touched it gently with his fingertips.

   Trish’s description of what happened had astounded him, not least because of Laila’s unrelenting determination to do whatever it took to help him.  He certainly couldn’t imagine any of the other women he’d been with doing so much for him.  This beautiful woman that he didn’t know had risked arrest, possible imprisonment, endured her family thinking she was losing her mind and had gone through pain and mutilation, all for him.  He’d never experienced a love like that.  It was mind-boggling.

   “I wish I could remember,” he said, still staring at the dressing. 

   He looked at his own left arm which was unblemished and found himself wishing he could see a scar there, some physical reminder on his own body of what had happened.  Something to connect him to five years he had no recollection of at all.

   He suddenly realised he was still holding her arm, cradling it in his hand.  He let go and sat back, feeling awkward.

   “Does it hurt?” he said.

   She shook her head.  “Not really, not unless I press on it.  I shouldn’t need the dressing for much longer.  I’ll have a scar, but I don’t mind.  It’s a small price to pay.”

   Her eyes were lowered to her arm and as he stared at her she looked back up at him, her luminous green eyes locking on his.  The depth of love he saw shocked him.  He couldn’t imagine what he could have done to deserve that kind of love from a woman like her.  Surely she could have any man she wanted.  Any living man.  Why him?  Why a ghost with nothing to offer her? 

   He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to endure the all kinds of embarrassment such a question would lead to.  So he kept quiet and she looked away again.

   “Maybe your laptop would help jog your memory,” she said, her face lighting up.  She stood and walked into the bedroom.

   “I have a laptop?” 

   It hadn’t even occurred to Denny that would be the case.  He’d seen two in the flat, one on the coffee table by the sofa and one in the bedroom, but he’d just assumed Laila had two for some reason.

   She emerged from the bedroom with the laptop he’d seen in there.

   “I bought you this the day after we met,” she said, placing the computer in front of him on the table and sitting down next to him. 

   “You did?” 

   “You didn’t have anything of your own,” she said, shrugging.  “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

   To Denny, something nice meant a box of chocolates, a thank you letter, maybe a meal at a classy restaurant.  Buying a laptop went far beyond nice.  Laptops moved into the realm of incredible.  The more he learned about Laila, the more he could see why he had loved her. 

   “Thank you,” he said.  “I can see how lucky I was to have you.”

   She glanced at him as she logged him on and smiled, flushing slightly, returning her attention to the screen.  It was adorable.  He realised he was staring again and forced his attention to the rest of the room.

   “You play the piano?” he said.

   “Oh, no.  Well, you were trying to teach me, but I’m not very good.”

   He smiled ruefully.  “Me neither, although I owned a piano for two years.  I always wanted to play well.”

   She looked at him then and her mouth widened into a smile that took his breath away.  “You do.”

***