I am hot.

The heat has broken here like a hot glaze. I want air to circulate but nothing is moving. Stumbling from Kafka dreams I move off the bed slowly and silently, slipping on the tank top and shorts I’d discarded beside the bed. I lift my hair off the back of my neck, twist it, and hold it up with my hand while stretching my neck from side to side, searching. I pull open the bedroom door, step through it, and close it behind me. I walk barefoot across the new oak floorboards, pale and dark beneath my feet. I sit on the top landing of the stairs, curling my feet on the top step. I feel a cool flush of air, the kind that rushes to every follicle of hair on your head and lifts each and every one of them, cooling and easing.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

“I knew I’d find you here, too.”

I look to my right and there he sits, just like the last time I saw him. His hair is still shaved to a short close crop. His stubble is rough, and I knew if I touched it I would find it sharp. He sits cross-legged, his hands folded into a point under his chin.

“You’re just like I remember you,” I say smiling. “You look better without the IV though.”

He smiles back. “I missed you, Buddy.” Kim says.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” I reply. “I haven’t seen you for a few years now. I thought you were gone.”

“No, not yet. I will be shortly though. I’m about to come back.”

“Are you happy about that?”

“I am, actually. I’m looking forward to another adventure.”

“You make life sound like a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book, where one page ends the story or one page helps you find the pirate’s treasure.”

“That’s what life is like. I just chose the wrong ending last time,” he says with a smirk.

“Have you been happy?” I ask.

“I have. I’ve learned a lot. I’m going to forget it all, I think, but it’s been good where I was.”

“Can I ask you if you’ve seen someone?” I ask, wondering if he can help me answer a question I carry around inside.

He looks at me. He would touch me if he could. I don’t know what to make of that, some touches hurt for too long. “Babies aren’t where we are,” he says softly, cutting me off before I could get there.

I deflate.

“They’re somewhere else. But they say it’s better there. I know that’s not the right answer, but it’s the one I can give you.”

I look up at him. I wish I knew. I wish I could see. I remember his hands, the strength and countenance in them.

“Are you happy, Buddy?” he asks me.

I trace a finger in a small pile of sawdust accumulating on the top stair. I am swirling. I draw a swirl.

“I don’t know what that means,” I reply slowly. “Happiness is a moment in time, I think. It’s not a state, it’s not tangible. I have moments of happiness that are so raw and incredible it should be illegal. Sometimes with Angus and my babies I have these moments where my heart feels like it can’t be contained in something as insignificant as me, where I feel like I could die now and I will be the most fulfilled person ever. My life has degrees of pulchritude that almost hurt, which is a ridiculous thing to say but it’s true. But I saw this film recently called ‘Heartburn’, and the lead character was so, so happy and then her life fell apart. I guess I worry that if I shout to the world that I am happy that this vulnerability will come out, and the world will come and take it away. That’s how my life works, really. Happiness giveth and the world taketh away.”

“Is this a happy moment?” he asks.

I look at him. I know this face. God, please never let me forget this face. “This is.”

“What do you want?” he asks.

I sigh, the air coming from me but locking from within. “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I have no expectations of life, as I never thought I’d get as far as I have, really. I live each day for what it is. As far as dreams, well…My life has been a concoction of me following the dreams of others. I love you, I give all to you, your dreams become my dreams. My dreams have been the property of others for most of my life. I’m beginning to sit down and figure out what my dreams are. So far my dreams are humble and small, but give me time. I like to think I’m a commodity to be reckoned with when I finally let it all out.”

“You used to dream of a life on the run, of a life moving, living, being, doing.”

“I used to dream of running, Kim. Of running from things, to things, of running away. Travel is one thing, that I can do. Avoiding is something that is no longer feasible.”

“We used to dream together.”

“Your dreams, baby. I would’ve followed you to the ends of the earth and back, but it would’ve been on your dime.”

Silence, then. Maybe I have shattered the pillar that used to hold us together. Man cannot live on bread alone.

“Have I broken your memories?” I ask, feeling a bit desperate.

“No,” he replies. “I understand. I’ve seen what your life is now.” He looks to the end of the hallway.

The nursery.

“I was never going to be around for kids,” he says softly.

“I know. It’s why I made some of the choices I did,” I reply.

“Are you angry?” he asks me.

I think about this. Am I angry…do I have anything to hate…

“No,” I say finally, surprising him and myself. “I’m not. I’m meant to have those two. I was meant to get to this life the way I did.”

He looks at me, and I feel him assessing me, wondering, calculating, judging. “You could’ve ruled the world.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“You sold out.”

“Maybe. But I bought myself back in the bargain.” I don’t take offense. I know what he means – he never wanted to be tethered to a career, to a role, to a desk. He never wanted to be part of a chain, a cog, a resource. He despaired when I took a job with a stockbroking firm. He was sure working for Company X would be a mistake. He wanted us to join the Peace Corp and go away forever, just wandering until there was nowhere left to wander, no corner left with untilted windmills. “I couldn’t be that person, Kim. That person, the one you wanted, the one you thought of – that person doesn’t exist. That person is broken, is half of a whole. That person is hiding. I’ve changed. I’ve stopped running, and it’s made the difference between life and death for me.”

He looks sad. I want to throw my arms around him and place my face in the small of his neck, the way I used to. “You were the first person who felt there was something in me worth saving.”

“There is something worth saving.”

“I know that now. It took a bit of time.”

Silence again, and I am flooded with memories of my life with him. Of wooden floorboards and French pastries and Nintendo games and notes folded and left for me in various places, notes which I still have and always will. We dreamt big dreams and he was my entire world and he always, always made me feel like the most exquisite and beautiful woman that the world ever held. Even in our darkest times, he made me feel like I was someone that he would cherish, celebrate, and defend. He was my protector, something I needed so badly that once I had it I felt the world could come at me, I was safe.

“You taught me how to love,” I say softly.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

His head turns to the side. “Sometimes I used to lie to you.”

“Sometimes I used to lie to me, too.” I reply.

Then it hits me.

“This is the last time we’ll say goodbye, isn’t it?” I ask.

He sighs, an exhalation that doesn’t stir the dust. “Like I said, I’m coming back soon. I think you know this is the last ride for you. When you die you’re finally at the end of the longest journey.”

“I’m going to sleep like the dead,” I crack.

He laughs. “Not exactly, but I think that it will be good. You’ll be ok. You’ve become a good person, Helen.”

“Thanks,” I say smiling. “I think so, too.” I inhale deeply. “So what’s up for you? About to be born a baby boy in Chicago? A little girl in Sydney?”

“I don’t know yet, I just know my time is very short now. I just felt it was important to see you. I had to come say goodbye to you.”

I feel my throat pull tightly. “We said goodbye a long time ago, Kim.”

He nods. “I think somehow I knew that.”

“But I hate that this will be the last time that we ever say it,” I say softly. “I’m going to miss stumbling upon my favorite ghost in the hallways in my life.”

We sit. We could always do silence well. We never needed to fill the space with chatter or nonsense, we could just be.

“I love you, Buddy. I always will.” Kim says quietly.

“I love you too. I always will. And I wish you the very, very best in your next life. Once I would’ve begged you to stay. Now I know this is how it’s supposed to be. I got to love you once, and that was enough. Loving you made me a better person.”

“You will always be the extraordinary one for me. I will love you in a way that I will be able to remember.”

I feel the tears lurking below. “You’re in my heart, Kim. Always. There is nothing unresolved now. Go, and be, and live, and love, and know that in life there are always do-overs.” After all these years and all these tears, I am over him. I will never cry for him again. It is done, and I hope for him so much.

He swallows hard. I wonder if ghosts cry, or if it’s all too hard. “Goodbye, Helen,” he says. He used my name. He never did that.

“Goodbye Kim,” I reply. “Good luck, ok?”

And he vanishes slowly, his eyes on me always. It’s all over now, and I am free.

It is our last goodbye.

I sigh, the heat descending, and I get up and go back to the bed where I belong, to live in the life I am meant to live.

-H.