Page 76 of Ghost

Abby

I’d spent nearly two months acting as if Porter’s condition wasn’t an issue, while in the back of my mind the possibility of him truly being sick festered like an infectious wound. Now that the nightmare was over, it was time, as Porter said, to plan our life together.

With Porter dressed in a new pair of swim shorts and me in a two-piece bikini, we sat on the deck and talked about renting surfboards.

“I’m still processing it,” he said. “It’s crazy. After a scare like that, you look at life completely different. Completely.”

Following my successful cancer treatment, the sky was bluer, trees were greener, and the air smelled fresher. I couldn’t spend enough time outdoors enjoying all of God’s offerings. I bought a bicycle, a pair of running shoes, and a shopping cart filled with running outfits.

Within six months, I was running three days a week and riding my bicycle more than I drove. I focused on my YouTube channel, doing one high-quality video a week. I watched as my followers increased from two hundred thousand to over twenty million.

Everything changed following my recovery.

Everything.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I said. “After my tests came back clean, I kept waiting for the other foot to drop, but it never did. After that, I looked at life as a true gift. My to-do list grew from fifty things to two hundred in about a month.”

“What’s left on it?”

“Two things,” I responded. “There were three the other day, but I think we got one of them resolved.”

“What’s that?” he asked. “I don’t remember you saying anything.”

“One hundred and eighty-four. Rid myself of Luke Westham for good. At one point, I thought I was going to have to move to the Atlantic coast and change my name to Jennifer.”

Porter let out a laugh. “We’ve seen the last of him, believe me. He got embarrassed in front of a room full of people that recognized him. He won’t show his face again. He’s too fucking embarrassed.”

As Porter stated, being embarrassed was going to keep Luke away from me for a lifetime. Yet, I was supposed to agree to try and surf, which would undoubtedly end in me being made a fool of. I hated feeling like I’d been embarrassed. It was what had kept surfing on my to-do list for almost a decade.

“Yeah.” I let out a sigh of relief that I’d been holding in for three years. “I think I’ll draw a line through one eighty-four for sure.”

“So, what’s left on your list?”

“If I can get past these jitters and surf, I’ll be down to one.”

“Which is what?”

I scrunched my nose. “Get a tattoo.”

“What’s kept you from doing that?”

I liked looking at tattoos on other people, even the crappy ones. When it came to place one on my skin, I wanted it to be simple, perfect, and something I’d never get sick of. As much thought as I’d given it over the years, I couldn’t come up with anything that I was comfortable getting.

“Not knowing what I’d want to add to my body that I’d be comfortable keeping forever.”

He finished his champagne. “Have you got any ideas yet?”

“A few,” I said. “Nothing I’m really excited about, though.”

“We’ll have to think about that.” He gazed over the handrail, toward the beach. The mid-day sun had just cleared the deck’s canopy, and the weather was perfect for the beach. “So, do you want to try and surf?”

“Maybe later.”

He closed his eyes and drew a long breath through his nose. “I’m going to relax, then.”

“I’m nervous about falling off the board,” I said.

“You’re falling into water. It doesn’t hurt.”