“Oh, I know. And if you weren’t there, I would have lost this vintage Chanel bag and a few thousand bucks. I don’t usually carry cash with me, but as you saw yesterday I was selling a few things.”
I just nod, a little curious but not caring enough to go into it more. The light turns and we cross the street.
“I’m doing that minimalist lifestyle,” she continues. “You know, that trendy one right now where you thank your things before letting them go.”
“You thank them?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Yeah, but it’s not as hokey as it sounds, I promise. It’s a good way to let go of the past and make room for new beginnings. And now that I’m saying it out loud, it does sound really hokey.”
I chuckle. “Hey, if it works I guess that’s all that matters, right?”
“Right. And it has been. I hang onto a lot of junk, and getting rid of it feels good. Want to eat here?” She waves her hand at a diner on the corner. “I’ve never been here before, but it looks cute.”
“It’s decent,” I say, having eaten here a handful of times since it’s close to work. We go in and get a table in the back. Gemma looks over the menu, and things start to feel weird already. I haven’t gone out with a friend or even a coworker one-on-one like this in a while. I didn’t realize how much I’d alienated myself until the guys came into my life and reminded me how good it felt to be alive.
“Can I ask you something?” Gemma sets down the menu.
“You just did.”
She flashes a nervous smile. “I mean something personal.”
“You can.” I lean back. “But I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
“Fair enough.”
The waitress comes to take our order, and once she leaves Gemma picks up her straw wrapper, twisting it between her fingers.
“You said you weren’t going to try to communicate with the dead, but did you?”
“No.”
She rips the wrapper in half. “No, as in not yet, or no as in…”
“As in no.”
“Do you even believe in ghosts?”
I pick up my Coke and take a sip. “I didn’t until recently.”
“What changed?” She leans in. “Did you see a ghost?”
I shrug. “Just trying to keep an open mind, that’s all.”
“Right, right. I bet you see a lot of crazy stuff being a detective.”
“I do. I’m a homicide detective, so crazy is kind of my thing.”
“Oh, wow. That’s insane. No wonder you’re interested in ghosts,” she says with a laugh. “I believe in ghosts and all that stuff. Obviously, right? And I have tried to contact the dead.”
“Tried?”
“It didn’t work.”
“Oh, I’m, uh, sorry?” I watch Gemma’s face fall, eyes dropping to the table.
“It’s probably for the best. My parents died when I was eleven in a car crash. They’d just dropped me off at a friend’s house and were on their way to dinner. I still feel guilty about it.” She shakes her head and pushes her dark hair back. “Anyway, I’ve tried a few times over the years to contact them with no luck. Though if I did get a hold of my mom’s spirit, she’d probably throw her shoe at me or something for playing around with a Ouija board.” She smiles, eyes glazing over as she remembers her mother. “She believed in this stuff too.”
“I’m sorry,” I say genuinely. “I lost my parents when I was nine. If I were to try and contact someone, it’d be them.”
