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The ghost of your hand lingers on my chest. I find myself looking down, expecting to see your fingers resting there, but instead I find my own. I look around, expecting someone to see, cock a brow and ask if I’m okay, if something’s wrong, but no one does. Everyone is in their own world, or, rather with their own world. Mine disappeared in an elevator with The Metatron.
The line dwindles and I’m in front of Nina, who gives me a sympathetic look. I hate that look. I know her and Maggie’s plan, their ulterior motive. But being here reminds me of you, and even though it hurts a little I still find myself here every Monday. Nina knows my order, has it ready for me almost the second I walk in the door. I hand her double the money she asks for and she hands me my six shots of espresso and Eccles cakes. The espresso doesn’t really calm me down, nor do the cakes. But they make me think of you and the thought alone is enough to help me breathe a little.
I feel your hand on my chest again but it’s not you. It’s not me this time either, just the idea of you pressing your fingers to my chest, whether you need to get by or you need us to wait before walking. I pause, blocking some elderly man’s journey to the trash can. He scowls at me and I scowl in return. He can fuck off and die.
Maggie would tell me to rephrase that thought. “You’re not mad at him, love, you’re in mourning. He doesn’t deserve your anger.” But he does, because he’s in my way, and you’re not here and I don’t know what to do—
“Are you okay, dear?”
I look up. Nina stands above me. I don’t remember bending over, but my large cup is on the ground and the cakes look like they’ve made a run for it. I try to tell her I’m fine and to fuck off, but the words don’t come. Instead, when I open my mouth a low, warbling wail comes out, and I want it to stop but it doesn’t. Something wet touches my cheeks and I jolt, kicking the cup in the process, sending it rolling with an empty, hollow sound, the espresso no doubt a puddle before me. Nina is startled, her eyes wide. She’s asking me something but I can’t hear her. Instead I’m straightening, turning, stumbling to the door, crashing outside. I blink and I’m on my knees again and my throat seizes up on me and I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe, I’m not a human why is my body behaving like it is one?
“Fuck off!” I yell when the door jingles behind me.
“You know I won’t,” Nina says softly. I want to kick, yell, scream, but before I can her arms wrap around me. She pulls me to the ground until we’re a weird puddle, me in her lap as she holds me. “It’s okay, love,” she says, her voice low.
I disagree. My cheeks are still wet—tears, I realize now, and I curse and cry and wail unabashedly in her arms. People no doubt are staring but I don’t fucking care. Who fucking cares? None of this matters. There’s no point to Earth if you’re not on it with me.
I hold firmly onto Nina’s arms and she wraps them tighter around me. She is not you, Angel. She will never be you. But I will never feel the blessing of your love again, so what’s the harm in letting her give me some of hers? It’s not like I deserve it. I’ll never deserve it. But ever since you disappeared I’ve been allowing myself some guilty pleasures. More alcohol. More men. More comfort from Nina and Maggie.
I cough and juggle my limbs until I’m standing again. Nina pats my shoulder and I don’t flinch this time. I don’t know what she says, but she says it and disappears back into the shop.
Alone by the side of the road, I contemplate just running off. Disappearing. Vanishing completely, so no one from Heaven or Hell or Earth can find me. But then I see Maggie in the window of her records shop and she sends me a kind little wave and I offer a pathetic one in return. I can’t leave her. I can’t leave Nina. I can’t leave Muriel, who so diligently looks after your bookshop.
I can’t leave.
But you did.