All Your Tomorrows

NORA

“Excuse me?” Kyler asked.

“Why didn’t I know? I should’ve known. When you came in, the bell on the door didn’t ring. There were no footsteps. And then Daci didn’t see you.” I dropped my forehead into my palm. I’d been so distracted by his good looks, I’d been completely off my game.

“Are you okay?” Kyler asked.

I sighed as I let my hand fall. “Sorry. This isn’t supposed to be about me. What can I do for you?”

“I have no idea.”

I tipped my head to the side, taking in his lips which were slightly turned up in the corners even though he wasn’t smiling. “But you came to me.”

“I heard you could help,” he said.

“I have to know what I’m helping with,” I explained.

He looked down at himself, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he did. “Why am I like this?”

“Like what?”

“Here…but not here,” he explained.

I lowered my voice, trying to tread gently. They didn’t all understand how it worked—hell I didn’t always understand how it worked. “Because you died,” I explained. “Do you know how it happened?”

He shook his head.

My lips twisted regrettably. It always sucked when they didn’t remember. I considered my next question carefully, realizing if he didn’t know how he died, he likely wasn’t keen on the idea that he was indeed dead.

“I find myself walking around town. Visiting places I used to visit. But no one can see me. Not one person. Until you.”

“I’m a medium.”

“Yeah, I overheard someone saying you see ghosts.”

“Spirits,” I corrected him. “And only when I allow it. That’s why you surprised me. I didn’t open my mind to it—at least I thought I didn’t.” I shrugged. “Anyway, spirits come to me in all different ways. Some I hear. Some show me visions in my head. But you. You’re clear as day. The weird thing is you don’t have that almost-glow that lets me know you’re not actually real.”

“I feel real,” he said. “Until I speak and no one responds.”

“I’m sorry. That’s got to be awful. How long has it been going on?”

His eyes drifted up as if he needed to think about his answer. “Too long.”

I pulled my phone from my apron pocket and called up a search. “What’s your last name?”

“Fletcher.”

I searched his name on my phone. “This article says you were in a car accident.” I glanced up, looking for any sign of recollection. His eyes narrowed, but he seemed to be unable to recall. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Maybe you blocked it out,” I offered before glancing back down at the article and reading a little more. “You were in the car with your girlfriend.”

“I had a girlfriend?”

“I guess so. Her name is Melanie.”

He shook his head, unable to recall the information I was telling him. “Why can’t I remember that?”

I shrugged. “It says she walked away with minor injuries, but you—”

“I what?”

“You were in a coma.”

“A coma?” he asked.

I stopped reading and looked him in the eyes. I could see pain there. I could see the frustration that came with not remembering.

“Why haven’t I gone…” he glanced up.

“Some spirits linger. Some appear when they choose to.”

“Why linger?”

“Unfinished business usually.”

I glanced back down at the article. “It says your accident was over Christmas break last year.”

“I always came home for the holiday. Did it say I was driving?”

I nodded, uncomfortable at having to share that information.

“Did we hit another car? Were other people hurt?”

I continued reading more of the article. “You drove off the road—off a bridge,” I corrected.

“What?”

“It said the road must’ve been slippery. You were stuck underwater in the car, but you helped your girlfriend get free.”

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured.

“You saved her,” I said, meeting his eyes and hoping to relieve some of the guilt I was seeing there. “You should feel happy about that.” I looked back to the article, but the alarm on my phone went off, beeping loudly and signifying closing time. I jumped up and moved to the front door, peering out onto the street. A few cars were parked on either side. But the bookstore, candy shop, and boutique had all closed at eight, so no one walked around the normally busy shopping street.

“Do you want me to leave?” Kyler asked.

I glanced over my shoulder as I locked the front door. “No. I just don’t plan on making coffee for any drunk college kids.” I flipped off the main lights, but the soft glow from the under-the-counter lights and the Christmas tree in the front window kept the shop dimly lit. “Some of them make their way over here.”

“Aren’t you in college?” he asked.

“I’m a senior at Lancaster. I finished my exams early so I’m already on break. Most are still here until Wednesday.” I moved back to the table and sat down. “Did you go to Lancaster U?”

He shook his head. “Florida.”

A long silence passed. I’d just dropped a lot on him so I wasn’t about to usher him out or press him for more information he didn’t seem to remember.

“I can’t visit my family,” he finally said. “I’ve tried to get close to our house, but I just can’t seem to get there.”

“Sometimes spirits get stuck and can only travel to certain places. I’m not sure why that is.”

He looked down, and I couldn’t imagine not being able to see my mom—to get to the one place I needed to get to.

“I can go over to your house tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be able to see your family through me.”

His eyes shot up. “You’d do that?”

“If you’d like me to,” I said.

“Will it work?”

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” I said.

“I really appreciate this, Nora.” The sound of him saying my name seemed so natural, rolling off his tongue so effortlessly. “I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time. Can I walk you out?” he offered.

Sadly, it was the best offer I’d had in a long time. “Sure.” I pushed back my chair and stood. His chair didn’t push back as he stood. It was strange that spirits could move through some objects like doors and walls, but could sit on chairs or other solid furniture without passing through them.

I walked to the counter and shut down the register. I grabbed my backpack from under the counter and walked toward the back.

Kyler followed me through the strands of sparkly curtains to my space in the back of the café. Daci had given me the room to meet with “clients.” Though I had the “ability” to see and talk to spirits since I was nine, I’d only been doing readings for a year. Most customers who came into the café had no idea what I did when I wasn’t working as a barista. My appointments were scheduled online.

“Other spirits have been in here, haven’t they?” Kyler asked as he took in the wooden table and the plaid cushioned chairs where I connected people with their deceased loved ones.

“Yeah.”

“Is it weird?”

“What?”

“Seeing spirits?”

“I’ve gotten used to it. Most of them are respectful and don’t bother me when I don’t want to be bothered.”

“Did I bother you?” he asked.

I laughed. “No. You were very polite.”

He smirked, and I realized it had been a while since a guy looked at me that way.

I took him through the back room, past cardboard boxes filled with coffee cups, plastic covers, straws, and stirrers. I removed my apron and hung it on the coat rack, then grabbed my coat and pulled it on. I wrapped my plaid scarf around my neck and threw my backpack over my shoulders. I opened the door and Kyler stepped outside. Once he did, I turned around and locked the door behind us, punching in the alarm code to set it before leaving.

“So, where’s your car?” he asked, taking in the empty parking lot.

“I walk to work. My house is just a few blocks away.”

“Lead the way,” he said.

I smiled as I pulled my gloves out of my pocket and slipped them on. “It’s getting cold.”

“I can’t feel it. Like, I know it should be cold, but I feel nothing.”

Unsure what to say, I began walking through the alleyway between the café and the gift shop next door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Kyler buried his hands in his hoodie pocket as he walked alongside me. We slowly made our way down the empty sidewalk, passing each window that was aglow with tiny strands of white lights for the upcoming holiday. “Do you like being a medium?”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to like it,” he said.

“I like helping people,” I said.

“What are you majoring in at school?” he asked.

“Child psychology.”

“Of course you are,” he teased.

“That obvious, huh?”

“That obvious,” he agreed.

“What were you studying?” I asked.

“Sports medicine.”

“Of course you were,” I teased.

“That obvious?” he asked.

I laughed. “That obvious.”

I turned onto my street which was known as one of the party streets in our college town. Most houses were lit up and we could hear music blaring as we walked by.

“You live in one of these?” Kyler asked, eyeing the massive two-story houses that had seen better days. Some boasted frat letters over the front doors, while others had old beat-up sofas on the lawns.

I shook my head. Izzy and I lived in a small cape at the end of the block that didn’t quite fit in with the party houses on the main strip. It had been intentional. We didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of the party zone—especially since I’d be alone most of the time with Izzy traveling so much. “See that white picket fence?” I pointed in front of us.

He squinted. “No.”

I laughed. “At the very end.”

Given it was dark at the end of the street—and he didn’t say anything, I assumed he couldn’t see it.

“My best friend Izzy and I live there,” I explained.

“Who are you talking to?”

I turned in the direction of the girl who’d spoken.

She was a short blonde with a red cup in her hand staring at me from the lawn of a frat house where a loud party raged inside. “Are you wasted?” she asked, her bare feet stumbling around.

“No, but you clearly are,” Kyler said.

I stifled a grin, knowing she couldn’t hear him. “Yeah. Totally wasted,” I lied. “Killer party, huh?”

“Killer,” she repeated.

“Come on, Lynn!” someone called from the crowded front porch.

Lynn didn’t say another word before turning away and stumbling back toward the loud party.

I looked to Kyler. “Comes with the territory.”

We walked until we reached the quiet end of the street. We stopped at the white picket fence surrounding my lawn. Kyler took it all in. Our small house with decorative shutters, potted flowers by the front steps, the pretty wreath on our front door, and the absence of sofas on the freshly-cut grass. “Now this makes sense,” he said.

“What does?”

“I didn’t take you for a party girl.”

“No? Why not?”

He looked over at me and assessed my face. The way his eyes roamed over my features caused something inside me to ignite; something I hadn’t known could still exist. “You’re better than that.”

I laughed. “You have to say that.”

“Why?”

“Because you need my help.”

He suddenly looked angry. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”

I swallowed hard. “Sorry. I just meant…I mean…”

“Nora. I’m not mad,” he said, his voice softer. “I just want you to know I’ll always give it to you straight.”

I nodded once, then walked through the opening in the fence and made my way up the walkway to the front steps. I turned to face Kyler, knowing he’d followed. “Well, this is me,” I said, like this was the awkward end of some first date where you don’t know if the guy’s gonna move in for the kiss so you stall but only long enough to feel him out.

He nodded, though there was indecision in his eyes—uncertainty.

I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing I couldn’t just send him away to walk aimlessly all night long. “You wanna come in?”

He blinked, my offer clearly catching him off guard.

“I mean. No pressure. I just didn’t want you walking around all night with nowhere to go.”

“I appreciate that. But won’t your roommate have a problem with a spirit in your house?”

“Oh, she’s not home. And, she’s used to me talking to spirits.”

He exhaled and I could tell he appreciated my offer. “Thank you.” He followed me up the front steps and waited while I unlocked the door. He followed me into the living room, his eyes moving from the small Christmas tree set up in front of the picture window with the colorful lights to the red Christmas pillows adding a splash of color to our cream sofa and loveseat. “This is nice.”

“Yeah. We got lucky with this one. Last year we were in one of those other houses.”

“So, you were a party girl.”

“Not by choice,” I laughed. “You can stay there tonight.” I gestured to the sofa.

He looked at it. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. It’s what I do.”

A smirk crawled into his cheek. “Your superpower.”

“My superpower,” I agreed. “Good night.”

“Good night, Nora,” he said.

That smooth way my name left his lips made my insides warm, and I so wished a real guy had the same effect. As I turned and headed to my room upstairs, I couldn’t shake the butterflies whirling in my belly. A spirit had never made me feel so off-balance, and I realized why. It was a futile endeavor to fall for someone who would disappear without warning. Someone who—as much as they seemed to be—wasn’t really there.