“How do I know you’re not going to get me to...to want you to stay here and then disappear?” she heard herself ask.
He sighed. “I guess you can’t. But the more we...” he stopped and searched for a word, “interact, the more I’m anchored to you.”
“What does that mean?” she shot back.
Several seconds passed before he answered. “When I first woke up, there was nothingness all around me—except that I sensed you and moved toward you. Then I found you, and I wasn’t in the darkness any longer. I was back on earth.
“You weren’t on...earth when you were in the darkness?”
“I don’t think so.”
When he began speaking again, she sensed that he hated that admission. “Things began to change. First, I just watched you.”
“I knew you were there.”
“Then I caught you when you fell. I was surprised that I could do it.” He seemed to drag in a breath and let it out. “Each thing we did, each thing we said, made me feel more real. I mean, when I was in the darkness, I could hardly sense myself. Now, if I hold up my hand, I can see it. Or I can look down and see my feet. I feel them, too. And I can touch you and feel you.” There was satisfaction and wonder in his voice.
The admission sent goose bumps peppering her skin.
She thought back to when she’d first been aware of him. He’d been a vague presence. Something hovering around her that she couldn’t quite identify. Then they’d spoken...touched...and he’d become more solid. How far could she go with that? There had to be a limit. No matter how much she craved it, it was a leap too far to believe that she could make him real by the force of her will.
“Is it?” he asked.
She cursed herself for the kind of blind hope that blossomed inside her. But okay, maybe she couldn’t do it alone. What about together? How far could the two of them take this?
She knew he caught the thought. Knew he sensed her fear that she would be embracing the madness she had always feared?
Not madness. An opportunity—that no one else has.As he spoke, he pressed the front of his body against the back of hers, teaching her every hard line of his form.
She felt heat coming off of him—transferring itself to her.
When he stepped away, she had to stifle a cry. Swiftly, she turned to face him. It was still dark in the room, but now she could see him more clearly than she had before. He was wearing the jeans and T-shirt she had touched earlier, like a man who had dressed for outdoor work or perhaps simply a leisurely morning around the house. Well, what did she expect, choir robes?
An opportunity,he repeated.
“Like what?”
He held up his hand, moving it closer to her, and she saw little sparks flickering around his fingers. She raised her own hand and felt the sparks leap from his fingers to hers.
“Oh!”
The sensation tingled along her nerve endings, not just her fingers but spreading through her body.
“Don’t.”
Are you afraid?
I should be.
You like it.
She wanted to lie, but she knew there was no point in forming those words—not when her thoughts were so open to him.
Why not take the next step?
She had always felt less than normal. Now her phantom was offering her the opportunity to be more. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she should be afraid. She pushed away the fear and embraced what he was offering. Even if this whole illusion ended when the sun came up, she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she walked away now.
That might be a rationalization. Yet she knew she had made a decision.
