This felt like panic attacking a panic attack.
This was a horror. This was my new reality.
And I never wanted to see my reflection again.
Chapter 30
Fallon
I was very muchin love.
And it was nothing as the famous poets had said.
It was astrange love… the kind that didn’t feel good all the time … the kind where my greatest fears crawled, but an undying acceptance too. The kind where I had to stand in front of a mirror, forced to see me for what I was. What this was. The kind to question myself and everything I knew. I was certain this was like no other … though I had nothing to compare it to. Maybe no one could ever. And perhaps that was the point we could not see. No two were the same … or would ever be. And there would never be an answer for what it was, but I was in love … the kind where King had said; how,“Blood called to blood.”
Because I was so much in love.
And,maybe…he was too.
“Oh, look—another glorious morning. The full Harvest Moon is in our midst, and what better way to celebrate our small business owners of Weeping Hollow than during today’s Hollow Fall Festival? Show your support and dance on over to town square with your wallets. This is Freddy in the Mournin’, have a wicked Sunday, witches, and remember, no one is safe after three a.m.”Freddy’s howl from the gazebo speakers faded into Michael Jackson’sThriller, and I closed my eyes as my head fell back, the Sunday morning sun heating my face. Pumpkin, apple, and cinnamon from Mina Mae’s pies weaved into the crisp fall air that brushed my skin, and Monday bumped my side.
My eyes snapped open, and her red locks grazed my arm when she whispered, “This sucks balls.”
A laugh sputtered through my pressed lips, and I turned my attention to the handful of residents forming lines over the grass surrounding the gazebo.
“What’s happening?” I asked, scanning the crowd. Then, all at once, townies broke out into the Thriller dance in perfect synchrony. “No,” I laughed, my palms hitting the table under our tent, “this is great.”
Monday rolled her head back with a groan. “It’s embarrassing, just wait.”
At my side, Monday crossed her arms over our matching red shirts Jonah made us wear. The shirts readMy day starts when yours ends, with the funeral home logo on the back.
It was just this morning Jonah had shown up at Gramps’ house and offered me my job back, and I couldn’t help but think Julian had something to do with it. My punishment was to work the fall festival and get three people to put a deposit down on a pine overcoat—what Gramps liked to call a coffin—and a grave. It was ten in the morning, and I hadn’t gotten one yet.
“Annnddd here we go,” Monday whispered, her finger pointing at Milo, who moon-walked across the grass to the center just when the chorus rang through the speakers. Milo broke out into dance in his suspenders and newsboy hat.
“Nooo way,” the words sailed out of me. “Milo!” My palm hit my chest. “Monday, this does not happen. This isn’t normal.”
“Unfortunately, it’s our normal.” She released a sigh, and my smile burned as I watched the people dance, Michael Jackson’s voice slithering through the square. Some people were in costumes, some in their everyday clothes, some old, some young. “This happens every year. Milo says he does it for the kids, but c’mon, look at him,” she tsked, her flat palm in his direction, “he loves it.”
I shook my head, disbelief carving into me, and then my eyes continued to roam for Julian, as they always did.
And the memory of us from only a few days ago slammed inside me as if my lover were visiting—the heat spiraling between us, the ice swirling around us, ripples of pleasure and pain. Why was it that I felt so happy, yet so miserable? That to be able to think and go about my day after the night we’d shared, and the way he’d left,oh!it felt like waking on an ivory moon with a dark cloud looming close behind. Somehow, Julian felt undeniably close to me, in my blood now. I suppose it was Love’s weakness that turned our eyes from what stood in the way, allowing our hearts to wander in this feeling. Or could it be Love’s strength? And I knew where my thoughts were … If Julian only knew…
Julian had once said he would never give himself entirely to anyone, but that night, he’d given me everything, as I to him. Could I look past his continuous absence? The ghost of him after the sun had fully risen, the moments just after his departure? He’d always left me, but not ever reallyleavingme. He said he never wanted to leave me, and perhaps he meant it in some other way. Like this way—inside of me, all around me, in my heart, in my head, so loud and enduring andpermanentnow.
I’d woken alone, and the worry of something happening to him kept my mind sticking to him, kept my eyes everywhere, looking for him. Kept a knot in my stomach, an ache in my chest.
But how could I know if he wasn’t okay if I couldn’t go to him?
“Incoming,” Monday whispered, straightening her spine and painting on a fake smile, the kind of smile I knew so well.
Jonah appeared from behind, carrying a box. “Anything?”
“Nope,” I said, eyeing Monday. “I don’t think anyone’s rushing to pick out linens for their coffin.”
“They’ll come,” Jonah insisted, his eyes scanning over the crowd. “No one wants to be buried next to Jasper—Miss Driscoll, good morning!” Jonah’s octave changed once she approached the booth. “Thank you again for the shirts.”
“Jonah, we talked about this,” she smiled, blinking her long, heavy lashes, “Call me Carrie. You make me feel like an old woman.” When her glare hit me, her eyes were like blue lightning—sharp and quick and sliced through me. She returned her gaze to Jonah, and her features softened as conversation carried on. I froze, admiring her posture, her golden tendrils, her flawless skin.
