Page 82 of Meet Me After Life

I continue, arm thrown over my eyes as I lounge with my feet draped over the arm of the couch, legs swinging. ‘I think that’s when the darkness really started to creep in, you know? And then of course there was all that business with the wizard⁠—’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stand up then.’

I grin.

Stacey T is next. Her and Vlad dance to a slowed rendition of ‘Any Day Now’. Serially underrated.

‘The male always leads,’ Walker snipes as I try to take my first step and end up walking straight on through him.

‘Was it your failing charisma or your raging misogyny that won you an eternity of solitude?’ We begin the dance again.

‘It’s not misogyny, it’s tradition,’ he says.

‘Same, same.’ I wave.

‘And I haven’t always been alone. Watch where I’m headed and follow my lead,’ he commands, when a miscount leads to me stepping through his shoe.

I’ll do as I’m told. For now. ‘Is there a ghost girlfriend I should be made aware of? Is she gonna haunt me next for dancing with her man?’ I ask while I look down and follow Walker’s feet, still managing to mess things up.

‘Doubtful,’ he says with a hint of emotion. What one, I couldn’t tell you. Sometimes he’s so evasive I wonder if the emotions I have been able to discern have been purely by his own concession.

‘What… happened?’ I try for gentle, but it just comes across plain nosey. It shakes Walker from whatever charitable mood he’s been caught in.

‘Watch what you’re doing with your feet – or should I call them hooves? Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re upright as often as you are with this choppy footwork.’

Masterful change of subject. I’ll go along.

‘What’s worse, my dress sense or my dancing?’

‘Well at least your fashion won’t brutally maim those around you. Thank the Stars I can hardly feel you. I’d hate to see what you’d do to my corporeal body.’

‘You can’t feel me at all?’

Walker’s lips purse. ‘I can feel you as much as you can feel me.’ He continues to lead.

‘And that is?’

Walker’s gaze falls to mine, the pressure at the small of my back builds, as if he’s drawing me closer, before the pressure releases.

‘As fleeting as the wind,’ he answers beneath his breath, so soft, I wonder if I was ever meant to hear it.

I don’t know what to say. I say nothing. I place my head against where I would feel Walker’s chest if he weren’t a ghost. I pretend his heart is the drumbeat. I pretend his hand in mine is warm, and that he rests his cheek against the top of my head and pulls me closer. I’ve always been quite adept at playing pretend.

I wonder what companionship looks like beyond death. Is it like any other relationship? Or do you still feel separated, somehow – even if you’re on the same side.

Most pressing on my mind.

‘Walker?’

‘Yes, Chaos?’

‘Is it lonely? Death?’

For a long time, Walker says nothing at all. So long that I think he either never heard me, is content to ignore my question, or just doesn’t like his own answer.

We dance far longer than acceptable. If this were the regency era, we’d be halfway to the altar by now. It isn’t until the episode begins to roll into the credits that he replies.

‘It was.’