Laurens, I like you a lot!

Chapter 11

Eliza and I sat there for a while, just talking. It was my fault she was in such a terrible state, and I felt horrible knowing that every tear was my doing.

"All I wanted was to love you, but my love was blind and I couldn't see the ocean of faults behind your beachy eyes."

"Eliza, I know. I messed up big time, and now you're blaming yourself for all that I've screwed up. I wanted to leave. I wanted to let you be alone with yourself, because I'm doing more harm than good by talking to you right now. I had no idea that my words would have this much of an impact on you."

Her mouth said nothing, but her eyes spoke volumes.

Stay

"Hey," I said. Her eyes were welling up with tears again. She stood up silently and walked out of the room, leaving me on the floor. I needed to leave, but my God, she looked so helpless. I grabbed my bags off the porch and brought them inside. I wouldn't need to pack them ever again; I wasn't going to leave.

After I unpacked my bags, we took a rest on the bed. It was dark when we first laid down, so we went to sleep for the night.

That's when something unusual happened.

I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I had been running in my dream, not from something, but towards someone.

John.

I sat up on the edge of my bed, and took a look in the large mirror on the wall. I was looking a bit ill, my hair whiter than normal, my face oddly misshapen. I stood up, bringing my hands to my cheeks. My face felt fine.

The problem seemed to be that my mirror wasn't mirroring anything at all, really. It was showing an image of a man who couldn't be alive. A man who died under gun fire. A man who was surely dead. Positively dead and buried.

Absolutely.

I did what any sane person would do in the situation that the mirror ceases to perform its job and begins showing dead people- I fainted.

All I remember was hitting the ground. Hard.

I woke up to Eliza tucking me back into bed.

"I forgot how heavy of a sleeper you were," she chuckled, patting the covers before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her light-hearted smile quickly darkened as she looked at my face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, love. What's the matter?"

I sat up in bed, slowly as to not upset myself, but my efforts weren't worthwhile. When I finally made it up, I upchucked. It was everywhere, all over her apron, her skirt, the bed.

She was completely covered in my vomit, but she just stood up, stripped herself of the apron and held me tight. She looked me in the eyes as she pulled away, and I told her what had happened, without opening my mouth.

Eliza cupped her hand around my cheek.

"Is this the first time?"

"No."

She just looked at me with concern.

"When I went over to see the guys, it happened, too."

She didn't act like I was crazy, she didn't seem bewildered. She just stood up and brushed her skirt off.

"Well, he's here," she said, motioning around the room. "You aren't a very good hostess if you don't greet the guest."

Then she left, shutting the door behind her.

I was so confused, and my head was swirling with a thousand different thoughts. Was that passive aggressive?

That's a thing to note about my wife, there is a land called Passive-Aggressivea and she is their ruler.

Maybe she meant that I should try and talk to him.

I stood up and looked around the room. The room was empty, but it was worth a shot.

"Laurens, hey."

This is so silly.

"Eliza said that I should be a good hostess, and I should greet you. I don't really know how religion works. I don't know if you're really here or if I just miss you. What do they call it? Purgatory? Maybe that's what's happening. In that case, uh, you should go. All of us will be there soon enough, I promise."

There was no change in the room. I was right, it was no use.

I got up and opened the door. I expected Eliza to be sitting there, eavesdropping, but she was in the kitchen, washing her apron.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah, well, I tried," I said, entering the kitchen. I felt childish, like a little boy who was being forced to apologize for some unacceptable playground behavior.

"Maybe he wasn't in that room, or maybe he didn't want to talk," she offered. Those were reasonable explanations.

"He could be with the guys, they're holed up at Mulligan's."

"You're right! Maybe you should ride in to town and see if they've experienced anything."

She was right, the guys had probably tried to summon him, or something, by now.

I grabbed my waistcoat and headed out the door. Peggy was waiting in the stable, I suppose Eliza had moved her there.

I mounted her, and off we road, to Mulligan's. 

It was time for some answers.