Afterwards (Editing)

chapter twelve

It never struck me that this was normal. My brother, I mean. His visits. They aren't real. It isn't him.

But what if it is? What if it truly is? What if he's just like water. Water is there, you can see it, but you can never seem to grab it with your own hands. Scientists may be able to break down water, find out what it's made of, but that doesn't mean it makes any sense.

So my brother, these illusions, whatever it is, it's like water.

The only problem I have with that is that i have no bucket, there is no reliability.

But that doesn't matter because he isn't there.

I don't know when it finally dawned on me but I've read stories quite similar to this situation of mine before. And in all of those stories you know the ghost. It's never a stranger, a no one. It's always someone who means something to you.

You cause it to happen.

They cause it to happen.

Either way it happens. And it happens because someone misses someone else.

So the question is why did it take so long. Why did it take so long for one of us to miss the other? Was it my age? Was i too young to understand? Did i just recently make up the ghost with my own imagination after being tired of missing him for so long? Did he finally miss me? Did he haunt my father first? Will he stick with me for as long as he must've with my father if he was ever with my father?

Questions flood through my head. They trickle deep, and slip through cracks only water can slip through. Water has no boundaries and right now every inch of me is totally submerged, filled with water.

I push the questions aside. If i don't go to sleep i won't see him and he's the only one I can get answers from.

I wake up and walk into the living room.

"Henry?" He looks up. I walk to him and sit next to him on the couch. I pick at a loose thread. He hesitates before grabbing my hand.

"Yeah, Tallulah?" he asks. I look him in the eyes.

"Are you real?" he looks at me funny and I smile and laugh a little. "I mean are you actually here?"

He shrugs. "Depends. What do you think?"

"I have no idea what to think about any of this," I sigh. He pats me on the back.

"Neither do I. We can figure it out together," he says.

"So we both have no idea what's going on?" He nods.

"How old are you now? How many years has it been. Why haven't I seen you. Was I in a coma or something?" he asks starting to sound worried. his hands start shaking. "Oh god. What's going on. I never thought any of this through, how I got here, why you were so old, why I wasn't with you during the day."

"Henry," I say, resting my hand on his shoulder. I gulp. "You died."

"How? When?" he asked.

"1971, Vietnam war. I have no idea how," I tell him. I see a tear in the corner of his eyes. 

"No," he gasps. A tear rolls down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. He shakes his head.

"How many years has it been? Why am I here now? Did the war end?" he asks.

"It's been twelve years, I have no idea why this didn't happen sooner, and the war did end," I reply. He nods, his gray eyes far off.

"Twenty three, huh. I never thought you would be older than me. Do I still look nineteen?" he asks.

"Yeah, you still look nineteen," I say subconsciously.

"Well then. I think I know what's going on. I'm not done here. I have to finish these things I have left. Tie the knots I left unravelled," he says.

"Okay." I twirl my still long blond hair.

"Tallulah, I'm dead. You know I love you, you need to move on. I'm not coming back, this is it. Get on with your life, find a roomate for god's sake.  Stop being a sadistic twenty-three year old. Your too young to be this way."

"Henry, I was eleven when you died, You missed two years of my life, and now with those added you've missed twelve years of my life. How do you know why I'm like this?" I ask.

"Tallulah, you've forgotten the years I was with you. I know you," he argues.

"I didn't have you to guide me. I needed you, and the last thing I got from you was your death. Ever since that it's just been different. I guess I need something to push me out of this, this stage in my life. I was always so young. Nothing ever happened to change my life. I need to change it, though," I agree. He nods.

"Henry, thank you so much. I love you, and thank you for the money for college. I never would have been able to go otherwise. It's the only reason our parents scraped together the money to finish paying tuition. They wanted me to always remember you, and I will," I tell him.

"I love you, too," he says. We get up and hug for a really long time. Tears fall off my chin.

"Sweet dreams," Henry says as he leads me back into bed, pulls the covers up to my chin, and kisses me on the forehead. Just like when we were little. And I let my eyelids shut.