Page 55 of All Your Tomorrows
Mr. Fletcher lifted his hands to his eyes and wiped away tears. “Will he ever wake up?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Mrs. Fletcher leaned into her husband and he wrapped his arm around her.
“Something happened the night of the accident,” I explained. “He just can’t seem to remember. We’re not sure if he’ll wake once he remembers or…”
The unspoken word hung heavy in the room.
“Has he seen himself?” Mrs. Fletcher asked through her tears.
I nodded. “He even thought he’d somehow be able to leap back into his body, like in the movies.”
“And?” they both asked.
“It didn’t work. It was like something was stopping him from getting close to himself.”
A long stretch of silence passed between us. They were likely grappling with the idea that their son was in their living room even though they couldn’t see him. And, I was waiting on them to accept the fact that as far-fetched as it seemed, this was their new reality if they wanted to communicate with him.
“He wanted to see you,” I explained, breaking the silence in the room. “He wanted you to know he’s still here.”
Mrs. Fletcher covered her face with her palms and sobs tore out of her. “I miss him so much.”
I looked to Kyler whose eyes had glazed over. He rose and moved beside his mom, wrapping his arms around her. My eyes cast down. It was difficult to know this was as close as he might ever get to being with his parents again.
“Is he in pain?” Mr. Fletcher asked.
I shook my head. “They don’t feel pain in their spirit form.”
“How can he be a spirit when he’s not…” Mrs. Fletcher couldn’t bring herself to say the word. “When he hasn’t crossed over.”
“I still see him the way I see other spirits,” I explained.
“Except for the glow,” Kyler said as if that made him different from the rest.
“Can he hear us when we speak to him?” Mr. Fletcher asked.
“The spirit version in this room can hear everything. But the one in the other room can’t.”
“So, we’ve wasted our time speaking to him?” Mrs. Fletcher asked.
“I don’t think so. From everything I’ve read, it’s important to keep their brains stimulated with words and music,” I said.
“Tell my mom I miss her lasagna,” Kyler said.
“He misses your lasagna.”
She laughed and sniffled at the same time.
“Tell my dad I miss our football talks after my games.”
I looked to Mr. Fletcher. “He misses your football talks after his games.”
He shared a sad smile. “Tell him I do too.”
“He can hear you,” I assured him, my eyes cutting to Kyler who was still beside his mom.
“May I go see him?” I asked, wanting to leave the three of them alone.