Chapter 10
Nick’s POV
A lot of things go through my mind as I think about all that she had said. What she had gone through was definitely unfair. All she had wished for was to be close to those she still cared for but had ended up all alone with her metaphorical ghosts of the past haunting every moment of her existence. And now she was dying.
For some unknown reason, I didn’t like it at all. No, not liking is such a small and insignificant expression. It was crushing me. She seemed like a good person and didn’t deserve to fade out of existence. “Daisy, did you ever see that reaper again anywhere?” I finally break the silence and Daisy looks up at me. Before she can even respond though, she once again disappears from my sight and alarm fills me. If she is losing control over her form only after a century, what will happen to her once she reaches her final days? She needs to leave before that.
At the back of my mind though, I can’t help but remember the scared look that Daisy had given me. It was as if she was scared of what I was going to think about her. I am a hypocrite – everyone is – but even I can’t condemn her for her actions that I would have done as well. And what did she do wrong anyway? She only chose her family and friends instead of leaving it all and just starting over. That would have been kind of cruel. And Daisy had just showed me that she wasn’t cruel, just human. And being human wasn’t a crime in any world.
Her words shake me out of my inner thoughts. “No. The reaper never showed up and he didn’t have a reason to either. Once George left with his family, there was no one alive left in the house. There hasn’t been a death in here ever since.” She takes a small breath – does she really need it or is it just another comforting human habit she still remembers? – before continuing. “And I sought him in the later years too when I felt prepared to leave. I often resided in other people’s house where someone seemed to be on the deathbed. The reaper came and took the dying person’s soul but never revealed its own presence to me. By the eighth time, I had stopped looking for him as well. I had accepted that redemption just wasn’t meant for me anymore.” I am instantly flooded by the urge to comfort her when she finishes speaking with sadness clear in her voice. What is happening to me? Why do I suddenly care so much for every negative feeling she has? My mind instantly presents with a shocking answer. You care about her. You might have feelings for her.
Externally, I remain silent all this time. Internally, I am reeling away from this realization in shock and disbelief. How can I be in love with a dead ghost girl? It is so … impossible! My mind has an answer to this as well. Can’t you see this? You care about what she feels. You are ready to stand for her when she feels alone. You don’t even find the idea repulsive or something similar because you don’t really mind it. Is it really that hard to believe that you saw the girl and not the ghost once you overcame your fear? I absently note that my own mind responds to me as a different person and that it is quite mind-boggling. Everything is, really. But it is honest. I don’t find the idea repulsive. It just has no future and would only bring pain. Another part of me realizes that the silence has gone on too long and Daisy must be getting confused by my sudden silence without knowing the reason behind it. I should probably break it. “What was your favourite colour?” I ask and immediately curse myself. Of all the possible things to ask, why did I ask her that? My mind is again quick to respond. Because you wanted to know.
“Why do you want to know that? That question isn’t relevant to what we have talked about so far.” She points out. There is a moment of silence between the two of us in which I try to come up with a neutral apology before she responds, “My favourite colour is green. Specifically the light green. Just like how Samuel’s were.” She abruptly stops speaking and I wonder if I accidentally caused her pain. Just as I open my eyes to apologize, she continues. “Sorry for that abrupt stop. I was just taken back in memories. You know Nick, despite your initial reasons for coming over to my house, I am glad of your presence. You are the first person with whom I have shared so much and I am glad I had this chance to share.”
The reply to her words flow instantly without thought. “The pleasure to hear about you is all mine. Thank you for giving this wonderful gift.” I momentarily feel heat rise as I think about how it might be interrupted. Thankfully, she takes it in a different way and I feel her back away, allowing the cold to lessen around me. With the heat though, a feeling of loneliness came over me as well. And it was the yearning for her presence that finally made me accept the true extent of my feelings towards her. I loved her. I was alive and she was dead and it didn’t matter because I loved her. We had no future and she probably didn’t share my sentiment either and still I loved her. And I always will. Why? Because love isn’t fair or just or any of the other things we wish for. It just is.
But I couldn’t tell her any of this. This girl, when she loved someone, didn’t hesitate in expressing it. When she finds out what I feel for her, how will she react? Will she just laugh it off? Or will she confess her love too? And even if she does, then what? Fifty years of bliss – if things don’t deteriorate further – and then permanent loss? No. This shall remain a secret. This will put an unbearable strain on our newfound fragile friendship and I won’t have that.
All this strikes me in the duration of one second and I am momentarily confused when Daisy responds. “I’m sorry. I forgot the heat-swallowing effect my spirit has on my surroundings. You should have said, you know.” All of a sudden she gasps and I hear a loud crash emanate from somewhere in the house. She apologetically explains. “My power is getting weaker. I had still held the eastern parlor somewhat intact but this sudden wave of weakness destroyed my connection over the place. Now it truly is lost to the past.” Her voice turns defeated and I control the urge to comfort her by trying to hold her. That would be too much for a ‘friend’.
A realization strikes my mind and I immediately ask her without even considering my wording. “Has it happened before? This loss? Of anything really. Power. Control. Anything?” I keep staring in the direction from where she last spoke, and where I suspect she still is, while waiting for an answer. And through some unexplainable feeling, I know she is hesitating to answer. “What is it Daisy?” I gently ask her, as if trying to get closer to a wounded and panicking animal. “Nothing can be bad if you don’t let it be.” I soothe her and am just about to continue when I hear her very faint sobs. “It’s okay Daisy. It will all be okay. Don’t you worry, okay? Things may get worse but they will get better. Now tell me, what is it?” Such empty promises, my mind remarks. There is nothing that can be done to make things better for us.
She replies in a voice so low that I can’t hear anything. I prod her to respond again and this time she responds in a voice that I can just barely hear but they are shocking enough to stun me silent. “I can’t remember. Things that happened after George left are just blur. It was as if I dreamed them all. I did things, I know I did things, over the years of my isolation to spend the time but I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything clearly at all!”
What if she has forgotten me as well? How much does she remember? “Daisy, I need you to think hard. What is the earliest thing you remember after they left the house? And why do you think that you haven’t lost their memories?” There is a very tense silence that follows it and I fear that Daisy might have forgotten me as well. Is this why she always referred to me before by my full name? To make sure she remembers?
“I think…” Daisy starts and I focus on her voice again. “I remember things but they are all blurred. As if it was all a dream, like I told you before, or a movie. I think I remember them because it was my punishment. To know that they lived their lives and then moved on because they were strong enough to let go while I wasn’t. To know that there wasn’t anyone left to care about me anymore.” Oh Daisy, if only you knew how I felt about you. ”And similar is the case with those I have forgotten. I haven’t remembered those I never met – those who probably weren’t
even born – when I was alive. They should never have met me and so I should have never known about them. And now, I really don’t remember them.” Her sobs grow louder as she keeps speaking and every single one of them feel like they penetrate my heart with sharp irreparable wounds. And so I voice the question that scares me the most.
“Will you remember me?”
People say lots of things about silence. About how it can be deafening. About how it is an answer in itself. About how sometimes silence can help clear things up. They may have meant it in different ways but right now, in this moment, I feel them all suit my present situation. I stumble back a step in shock as I process the fact that the girl I fell in love with may not even remember me once I am gone from in front of her eyes. And I trip. In that one moment of free-fall, nothing penetrates and all I can think of is She won’t remember me.
I crash to the ground and all the air is knocked out of my lungs but I don’t even feel it compared to the pain I feel in my broken heart. I want, no I need, her to remember me. When the temperature near me gets colder, I only shiver absently as this single desire goes through me. And then an unnatural coldness goes through my face and I am finally shaken out of my thoughts. It takes another small moment before the sounds penetrate. “Nick! Nick! Can you hear me? Are you okay?” She sounds so scared and concerned. Would she still feel so when I leave or would she even forget my existence? A part of my mind then reminds me that I can’t really leave this place until she leaves and I am momentarily comforted. I will be around her till she leaves.
Then I turn towards her voice and see that she is visible again. Her face looks like a bit reddish because of the tears and her eyes – the eyes which I once thought dead – are now full of concern and they are all for me. I give her a weak smile, which I feel comes off as a grimace, as I respond, “I’m fine Daisy. Just a little shocked and out of my breath. Did you just slap me?” A bit of incredulity seeps in my voice as I wonder about that sudden coldness.
She stammers before answering, probably embarrassed for her actions. “Yes. I had to slap you. You were going into shock. I am sorry Nick but I can’t really promise you what I don’t know myself. And I tried shaking you too when you fell but you didn’t seem to feel it.” Well now that she mentioned it, I did feel a little colder at my shoulders as well.
“I just wish there was a way I could figure out to remember you. You are special and you deserve to be remembered.” She added and my heart, though still broken, gave a shout of joy. It wasn’t a declaration of love by any level but it was something. Since we had gone from being the guilty and punisher to being friends, I could feel a bit of hope inside me that she could fall for me too. But it wasn’t going to happen if she began to forget me.
“Tell me my full name, Daisy McCain.” I ask her softly and from the look in her eyes – a saddened and scared one – I know that she too realizes that I am checking how much she remembers about me. That I am checking whether she has already begun to forget me. I hold my breath for her to answer. Since I never could hold my breath for long, it is a good thing she doesn’t make me wait.
“Your full name is Nick Demming Peters, though I think it might be Nicholas. You entered my house to either spend a night in here or to steal my necklace and almost succeeded in robbing me by trying to fool me into thinking that you were the reincarnated spirit of Samuel, my best friend and unrealized love when I was alive. Your friend blew up your cover and you got caught. I made you go through puzzles in the house and we escaped basement rats before I told you my life story. Convinced enough that I remember everything? Or should I do a word-by-word?” Her words are equally teasing and equally insulted. I can’t help but blush at how she just recounted every single thing that happened since I came into this house tonight.
Satisfied that she remembers all that happened, I release a relieved breath. “No, it’s okay. And it is really Nick, not Nicholas.” As I keep thinking of how to make sure she remembers me, the thoughts of me loving her mix in and an idea of what I would have done had she been a modern day girl comes to my mind. My mental censor really must be on a holiday because I ask her as soon as the idea comes to me. “Would you go on a date with me?” At her surprised ‘what’ and on the return of my censor, I quickly re-word my proposal. “Not a real date since it would impossible to arrange so quickly but a pretend date. You could think of me as Samuel if you want while I will be pleased to ensure that you do remember me. Sounds selfish, I know, but I suspect you would have liked to go on a date with Samuel. So, would you have this pretend-Samuel for a pretend-date?”
There is a long stretch of silence and doubts begin to crop up in my head. It was too rash! She would never accept it! Idiot, you hurt her by making such callous assumptions! Apologize now! I open my mouth to apologize when she responds with a small nervous smile in her voice. “You don’t have to offer me any further lures to agree. Yes, Nick Demming Peters, I will go on a pretend-date for you. Only you and not pretend-Samuel.” I feel a smile crawl up my face and internally I am whooping very loudly with lots of fist pumps. Then she adds. “But I must warn you…” She pauses and I feel every single inch of me freeze. I doubt that I am even breathing. “… I am not an easy girl to please. You will have to be your best.”
A huge relieved smile appears on my face as I confidently respond. “Don’t worry, Ms McCain. I am the best there can be.” Internally, my mind scrambles to come up with the best possible pretend-date scenario I can come up with while remaining within the house. It takes a few moments but I am fairly confident that my idea will work. Hopefully. “Alright Daisy. Please retreat to your room so that I can come to get you for the date from your pretend-house. Dress however you please. I believe the weather would be perfectly warm enough for a night out.” With a smile, she disappears from sight and a second later I hear the door shut upstairs. And then I hurry to prepare myself. Wrapping a white cover from one of the nearby furniture to avoid getting my clothes dirty, I quickly re-arrange the furniture to make it all perfect. Well as perfect as I can think of because she deserves the best. It takes around ten minutes and lots of manual labour – finally those torturous hours of gym paid off – before I am done. I quickly run my hand through my hair to remove any dust and arrange it as best as I can while I quickly but carefully walk up the stairs to her room and once I am sure of my appearance, I knock.
Daisy opens the door after a moment and I have to suck in breath to avoid fainting. She dressed in a gold-laced gown with jewels braided in it that only enhance its beauty. Her hair is arranged in a neat bun and I am tempted to see how it would look when I remove the pin that holds her hair in that position. But the most alluring is her face. She went for minimal makeup, just enough to enhance her natural beauty. I am shaken out of my daze when her small shy smile turns emits an amused giggle. I can’t help but ask, “What?”
“I didn’t know dirty furniture covers were in fashion.” She speaks in between what has now turned into laughter and I blush as I realize that I forgot to remove it once I was done shifting things. I quickly unwrap it and throw it to the side. She doesn’t stop laughing though.
I stammer as I request. “Can I-I start all over again? That wasn’t, uh, supposed to happen.” She shakes her head no while trying to control her laughter and I am momentarily disappointed. So much for a great first opinion.
“Nope.” She responds after regaining some control over her laughter, even if an occasional giggle still escapes her. I raise my eyebrow at her use of modern slang. It sounds oddly comfortable like it belongs there on her lips. I wonder what if … Focus Nick! Focus! I focus on what she is speaking. “… a do-over. I think I am impressed a bit already.” All my thoughts pause as I process what she spoke. She liked that? Phew!
I reply almost instantly. “Well, then I shouldn’t let us delay. Would you please join me on this wonderful pretend-date? I promise to sincerely try to let you have a good time.” She made a face at me, echoing my internal sentiment that I just made things a bit
too cheesy. I gave her a small grin as I added in a less formal tone. “I was trying to be a proper gentleman for you. I guess that’s unacceptable.” On her nod, I teasingly add, “Would you like me to hint you on what private activities you tempt me for with every movement of yours?” She was dead but she wasn’t unaware. The sudden shyness that filled her was just the perfect way to start the pretend-date. I grabbed her hand and said “Come on, then. Let’s begin.” And then I took her to the main hall downstairs.
I had moved the entire furniture out of the middle to make a large empty space and laid the cleanest cloth I could find on it. Adjusting the most comfortable among the damaged cushions I could find for her, I help her sit down before sitting down myself. It was pure luck that I found an abandoned picnic basket in one of the closets of the main hall. I picked it up and opened it, pretending to look at lots of food that was in there. “So, what would you like to have? I have got some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some apples, some ham sandwiches and some chocolate frosted cupcakes.” She laughs a little when I stutter while reciting the last ingredient. I quickly check with my hand to see if I had begun to drool with all the salivation going on at the mention of cupcakes. “Nope, not drooling. So, what’s your choice? I think we could have a PB&J sandwich each with a cupcake. Does that sound good?”
It is a pretend-date with all the pretend-food but in that moment, I really wish it all were real so that I could have felt glad for the light that momentarily sparked within her. Somehow, I don't know how, she had momentarily forgotten everything that existed outside this make-believe world. And I wanted her to have this forever. But how do you give a forever to someone who has only a limited time left to exist? She nodded and I made her imaginary sandwiches with extreme care to her desires. And through it all, we were just talking like any other couple.
"What's your favourite food?" I ask between one of my bites and she giggles and swats at me while eating hers. She sits in a stiff position, just how the women of that age were supposed to. I grin as I see her equally appalled and amused at my 'savage behaviour' during eating. "I won't tell anyone if you just relax and let all the rules fall away."
She shakes her head in a no and takes another bite. There is a small gap of silence before she swallows and responds. "Fruits. I know people hate eating fruits usually but I loved them. Their fresh taste was a surprisingly pleasant gift to the senses every time. Every fruit gave a unique taste that you never can replicate in anything processed." She eyes me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she confides in a low voice. "I tried them once at the local supermarket of today, one just around the block. I bet they still wonder where a can of every type of food substitute went over the weeks." I cannot help the loud laugh that escapes and she joins me as well.
As she looks back at me pointedly, I answer the same question. "I love… ice creams. Sugary treats are my comfort foods. They are what I would turn to at the end of the day, no matter if it was a rough day or a lazy one. I even have a stash of chocolates at home that no one dares to touch in fear of my wrath." I bend down into the basket to take out some air and continue as I pretend to drool at their sight. "And that is why I saved the cupcakes for the last part." She rolls her eyes at me and I mock-pout at her.
"Don't pout. You look like a two-year old. So, let's just get the usual questions over with. They may be the basics of 'getting to know you' but they are boring. So here's mine." She paused to take a deep breath and my mind momentarily stuck on how every facial muscle moved before she started. "My favourite colour is a slightly bluish shade of green. It was the dress I dreamed to be married in." I momentarily froze as I feared her breaking the bubble with those words. She didn't notice and continued. "My favourite season was the autumn, not because it marked an end but because it marked the first signs of a new start. I loved to ride horses and knew everything there was to know about them. I had my own mare as well. Daffodil was so special that she always lightened my mood." Her voice turns sad as she continues. "The day I died was the day she had to be put down. She went out of control and kept screaming for me. She didn't quieten even as she drew her last breaths, calling out for her dead mistress."
Forgetting, or mostly becoming indifferent to, all the customs that she lived in, I wrap my arms around her and let her mourn the loss of such a special friend. She momentarily stiffens but soon relaxes into me. And we stay like that for some time with our pretend-date forgotten around us. After I feel her starting to stiffen due to all her ingrained etiquette, I try to distract her. "Now that we covered your usuals, it is time for your 'unusuals'." I slowly remove myself from her, giving her plenty of chances to stop. There are times when I feel like she doesn't want me to but she never stops me. And as I return to my original seating, I ask my first 'unusual' question. "What did you love about the night?"
"What makes you think I loved the night?" She meekly responds, as if still emerging from her past and after a short pause, she continues in a stronger voice. "I mean, I did love the night more. The night sky was full of thousands of stars. Of the big moon. It was full of its own life. A mystery no one cared enough to solve. A mystery that no one desired to solve. It was beautiful. It was calming and it made me feel closer to people I lost. While I was alive, I connected with my mother's spirit through the night sky. Once I lost others, the night sky grew in importance significantly." She takes a small breath before asking her question. "What did you seek comfort foods for? What grief do you have?"
Before I realize it myself, I am looking away from her. I make myself look at her but still my eyes avoid looking at her eyes. Because in her first question, she touched a part of me that no one realized. I clear my throat before answering. "I hide no grief. No painful event resides in my past. But there is an emptiness in me. There would be moments when everything pales to insignificance and nothing matters. Moments when I feel like I wait for something but I can't figure out what it is. It drives me crazy and only the presence of the sweet things somewhat help in this emptiness."
"Do you feel empty now? Do you feel it here?" She asks and I realize with a start that I don't. Because in her company, I found the 'sweet' that was already missing but her spicy nature makes sure the sweet never bores me. We can never be but I can't help the pull that feel towards her. And so I whisper her my answer so that there can be no unspoken meaning between the two of us.
"Not when I'm with you." Warning bells are ringing inside me, telling me that this is going too far and I need to get back into neutral territory before I am hurt. But I already am hurt. I know that feelings are already involved from my side and that this changes nothing. There is only one way all of this can end and that is in no way a happily ever after. And so a fear rises within me, a fear for her. And to make sure her feelings don't get involved, I adjust my answer. "Not since I haven't been here long enough. This is all new and this is enough to keep it at bay for now." I tell myself I imagined the disappointment in her before I ask her next question. "What is your idea of a perfect vacation?"
She takes her time to think. I look around and see that the pretend-picnic is now forgotten. We are no longer two people playing make-believe. To me, this is the real thing now. And while I am lost in thoughts of impossible futures where we do get our 'happily ever after', she responds in a wistful voice. The pain that erupts within me from the emotions in her voice tear all the daydreams into pieces. "Being with someone I truly care about, no matter when or where or for how long."
And then she asks the one question I did not see coming. "Consider that through some twist of fate, you walked away out of this house this very instant. Later, someday, what would you think of me?" Her voice is simply curious but all air leaves my lungs. Knowing that there is no way I can truthfully answer her, I shake my head no. I can't answer this. No matter how she responds, this would change everything.
"Next question. Any question but this question." She opens her mouth to protest but I put a finger close to her lips. "Any question but this question." I
plead with her and she finally agrees. Then she delivers another air-sucking blow.
"What do you think of me? And I am not going to keep changing my questions." She warns and I let out a groan. There is no doubt that what she seeks is the truth. Truth that I can't give her. Truth that I have to give her. Truth that will change everything.
People say that truth sets you free from your imaginary bonds. Maybe they don't realize that it binds you into a different nature of bonds. No matter how I try to word this to her, there is no easy way to tell this to her. Lying isn't an option. This is no longer a game to either of us now. And lying is not what she deserves, not something that she ever will deserve.
And so I pour my heart with my eyes closed, knowing that this would change everything. "You are the most thoughtful, smart and interesting girl that I have ever met in all my years of living. There is no one who can even hold a candle to your personality. You have a bit of spicy mixed in with all the sweetness that would make any person die of diabetes. You are a mystery that would never be solved and anyone who dared to try would be rewarded with you every time. You suffered a cruel hand of fate with your life and even death and there is no one who can make the pain of it all go away. But it hasn't broken you. I still see the strength you hold within and I know that despite the fact that you don't believe for a better end to your tale, you haven't given up.
It is the mix of all this that makes you one in a million and it is all this that makes me wish that when we met, it wasn't as a ghost girl and trespassing human boy. It makes me wish that we were just alive. Because you are a girl one would forever wait for. One I could forever wait for. Because I realize that you are worth the wait. There's no one else I would rather wait for."