Sadie's Spirit - CB Samet (important of reading books txt) 📗
- Author: CB Samet
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Sadie turned around in his arms, troubled by his words. She remembered Asher telling her his father had committed suicide at the age of forty-two.
“My mother prepared everything for me on my thirtieth birthday. She gave me the news, provided a list of coping mechanisms, and took me through our ancestry: the good, the bad, and the tragic. She had only fully understood it after my father’s death. She’s been really supportive, trying to prevent me from going through what my father went through.”
“And you think my grandmother talks to you?”
“These are not hallucinations.”
“Have you talked to a professional?”
His eyes had filled with disappointment and rejection. “You mean a shrink? No.” He moved away from her and stood. “Do you know why? Because I’d be getting the same look of pity and misunderstanding you’re giving me. You’re not actually listening to me. You’re wondering what antipsychotic would help suppress the ghosts I hear without destroying my personality.”
“I am listening. I’m just worried.”
“I’m telling you about a gift, and you’re looking at me like I’m a leper.”
She started to protest, but he continued to talk.
“The fire department got called on a missing child. Because that child’s grandfather communicated with me, I found her in an old deer stand deep in the woods. She had climbed up the ladder, and when she looked down she was afraid of falling. Frozen with fear, she couldn't climb back down. If we hadn’t found her, she would have died of hypothermia. After three years of learning how to use my ability, I’m saving lives. With added experience, I can do even more.”
Remembering the hurt she had seen in his eyes that night crushed Sadie. She should have sat back down on those rocks and listened to him. She should have let him explain everything. She loved him, but instead of listening to him as he calmly spoke of his gift, she had been busy considering the ramifications of a long-term relationship with someone who clearly had a mental health issue. She knew from her medical training that caregiver burnout was common.
She remembered the pleading look in his eyes when she had pushed him away. Although she hadn’t verbally rejected Asher and his gift, her body language was unmistakably withdrawn.
He packed the picnic supplies away, furiously shoving them into the backpack.
“Asher—”
“Don’t bother. You’ve given me your answer.”
They didn't speak on the ride back down the mountain, and he dropped Sadie at her apartment without a word. She felt as though a fault line had ripped open between them, and molten lava was separating him from her. She was convinced that trying to bridge the gap would only end up getting her scorched.
Asher sat up in bed, blinking at his surroundings. Sunlight illuminated the edges of the drawn curtains. His overnight bag lay in the only chair in the room and Sadie's laptop was stowed next to his bag. He was alone.
“Sadie?”
She sat up from her prone position on the floor. “Morning, sunshine.”
Asher grunted to mask his relief. He threw off the covers, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door.
When he first woke and hadn’t seen her, he feared she had moved on. Her spirit could vanish at any moment, perhaps forever. He selfishly wanted to keep her here for himself. She finally believed in his abilities. He knew that it was too late, although she didn’t look like a fragile, fading apparition. More than once he had been forced to remind himself that she wasn’t solid. She wasn’t alive.
He emerged from the bathroom.
“I knew you'd be grumpy if I didn't bring you coffee,” she said.
Caffeine cravings weren’t the reason he for his foul mood, but Asher didn’t correct her. He grabbed his overnight bag and returned to the bathroom. After he quickly dressed, he returned to the main room.
Sadie stood looking out the window. She was the most vibrant object in the room, yet she didn’t even cast a shadow on the floor.
“I’m off to find coffee,” he said. Without making eye contact, he turned to leave the motel room.
“Wait,” she said.
He paused.
“Can you open the laptop and turn it on? I think I might be able to press computer keys.”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t like the idea of you draining all your energy. You get pale and translucent when you touch objects.”
Except me, he thought. When they touched, she somehow seemed to become more substantial.
“Please.”
“Fine.” He opened the laptop and plugged it into the wall. “I'll be back in ten minutes. Try not to destroy anything.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, forcing him to crack a grin.
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
Alejandro watched as Asher Brenner hopped into his truck and drove away from the motel. The man had left empty-handed, which meant the computer was still in the hotel room. Alejandro had trailed him from the twenty-four hour diner to the library to the hospital to the motel. When the fireman had returned to his truck after going into the hospital, he had been carrying the physician’s laptop. More worrisomely, the man had also been talking to himself, or talking to someone unseen. Soon after Asher entered the motel room, the lights had clicked off.
Alejandro didn’t possess enough brute strength to take on the broad-shoulder firefighter, who looked like he could bench-press two hundred and fifty pounds. Instead, he had waited, as any good thief would, for opportunity. Now that Asher had left the premises, his chance had arrived.
“Quien quiera peces, que moje el culo.” He needed to catch a fish, so it was time to get his ass wet.
He pulled his hoodie up over his head and took long strides through the parking lot. He wasn’t an amateur thief, yet his conscience was nagging at him for stealing from a dead woman. Why? It wasn’t as though it could be of any use to her. Alejandro rarely had regrets about the property he stole as he knew that people with money always had insurance. Food on his table was no great sacrifice for the wealthy.
He hadn’t always been a thief. When the woman who raised him, his great-aunt, had fallen ill, his work scrubbing dishes at restaurants had proved insufficient to cover the diabetic medications, glucometer test strips, and doctors’ visits for an illegal immigrant. He turned to theft and applied himself diligently, taking care to never get caught. He never told his great-aunt about his indiscretions, yet his shady work meant that she lived much longer than she might have without the money to buy better healthcare. His means of generating income had stuck after his great-aunt’s death, though he was convinced that she turned in her grave every time he committed a crime.
Alejandro peered in through the motel room window. It was empty, and the computer was lying on a tiny table like a prized golden egg with no defending goose.
What good fortune.
He got to work picking the lock, and the door clicked open.
He listened for a moment. After looking to his left and right and noting that there was no one around, he entered the room. He saw a small luggage bag on the chair and the computer within easy reach on the desk. But as he reached for it, the top slammed shut.
“Mierda!” Alejandro jerked back and froze in bewilderment.
The desk lamplight began to vacillate between dim and bright.
The hair on Alejandro’s neck stood on end. Holding his breath, he tentatively reached for the computer again. The light bulb shattered, spraying tiny glass particles all over him. He felt the room temperature plummet. He swore again, this time backing away toward the door.
His palms grew sweaty despite the cold. He had been right about the physician’s ghost. He just didn’t know if she was willing to let him out of the room alive.
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