Phantom [h.s]

Forty three

I sit with my mother and father on either side of me, wearing my black dress and shoes. The air is cold and I wrap my cardigan tighter around me, my breath visible every time I exhale.

Today is Nate's funeral.

It's been two weeks since Nate shot himself here at the cemetery and Harry crossed to the afterlife. It's been weird for me not to work on finding who killed him, and it's been even weirder to not have Harry around. A sad weird.

Nate is being buried next to Harry. His stone isn't set yet; all his grave is now is a mound of dirt. The pastor is speaking, but I'm not listening. I know I should pay my respects to him and everything, but I can't bring myself to pay attention, hard as I try.

Max and Ava sit together a few rows ahead of us. Max holds Ava's hand as she dabs her eyes with a tissue, shaking her head.

When the pastor finally finishes speaking, everyone moves from their seats, a woman who I now know to be Nate's mother announcing there will be a luncheon at their home.

My parents don't say anything as we walk through the cemetery. Ava turns around from up ahead and locks eyes with me, giving me a slight nod. I force a weak smile back at her.

After Harry crossed, I called the police. I told them Nate had come here, grieving his friend, wanting to off himself, and he shot himself before I could stop him. In somewhat of a miracle, Nate's fingerprints covered mine on the gun from when I had tossed it to the ground. I didn't need to be blamed for another crime around here.

I told Detective Whitmore that Nate had admitted to murdering Harry before he killed himself. She was skeptical at first, and then decided to trust me, since I had been of so much help to the case. The case was closed. Whitmore told me I would make a good detective one day.

And so life has gone on, the weather getting ever colder as Thanksgiving nears, with break starting next week. My parents are going back to Spokane a few days during Thanksgiving break to LARP again. This time they're going as Han Solo and Princess Leia, a combination my father likes to call "Pan Lolo."

I go to school, I do my homework, I sometimes go to the mall with Ava on the weekends. The two of us have become closer lately, and I'm glad to have at least her as someone to talk to, when previously it had only been Harry.

On the way out of the cemetery, I catch sight of Em sitting high up in a tree, carefully obscured by leaves. She lifts her hand in a small wave, her pale lips stretching into a smile. I nod back to her.

I think about Harry a lot. Most of the time I wonder where he went and how he's doing. I hope he's doing all right. The sting of his betrayal has long worn off, leaving me with only a necklace, a box, and a photograph to remember him by.

"Do you want to go to the luncheon?" My mother asks me as we get into the car.

"Can we just go to Mel's Diner instead?" I ask.

"Sure, kiddo," my dad says. "Mel's Diner it is."

I lean back in my seat and put my hands in the pockets of my cardigan, looking out the window. My fingers brush something and I pull it out to find a folded piece of paper.

Jane-

You probably won't find this for awhile, because I know you hardly ever wear that black cardigan, but I'm writing to you nonetheless.

By now you know I remembered everything when I touched that bloodstain in my father's old study. I didn't tell you because I know how you are-you want justice for everyone, and you want everyone to turn out okay. Unfortunately, I lack that trait. Along with my memories came the striking notion that in order to cross to the afterlife, Nate had to die, whether it was at my hand or not did not matter. He just needed to die, and I would cross.

From the second I decided not to tell you, I knew you'd be furious. And I'm very, very sorry. I probably should have told you, but we cannot go back in time. It is what it is, it was what it was, and it will be what it will be.

It's a shame I never had the chance to fall in love when I was alive, but I guess that's what I get for being an asshole most of the time. All I'll say is that I'm glad I was able to fall in love with you at all, even if I was completely physically unfeeling. And if the afterlife doesn't let me remember you, let me tell you this:

Death may not be the end, it may well be the beginning of eternity, and it may sound desirable when it's glamorized, but it is never the answer. I hope if you were able to learn anything from knowing me it's that death can suck as much as life can, but it can also be as wonderful as life can. Life and death are like fraternal twins: they are different from each other, but they're equally important. Don't fear death, but don't invite it upon yourself. You are far too beautiful and needed to the world to ever do that. You'll die too some day, everyone will, so let yourself live and let yourself breathe, because you never know when your time will run out.

Lastly, I want you to know that you will ever be the product of my long term and overwhelming adoration-so in short, I love you very, very much.

Yours truly,

-Harry

(P.S. Sorry that I've had to go away for a bit. Hope to see you soon, and I hope you don't forget about me too quickly.)

Rain begins to fall slowly, each drop hitting the windows with a splat. The radio plays quietly, the soft music floating through the car. I fold the note back up, closing my hand around it, holding it to my chest just above my heart. I lean my head against the window, shutting my eyes, a small smile gracing my lips.

I won't forget about you, Harry. See you on the other side.

THE END.