The simplicity of it was revolutionary. We went for coffee, then dinner. It was easy. It was light. When she talked about a difficult client, I offered a perspective, but I didn't try to fix it for her. She did the same for me. It was a partnership, not a service agreement.
One evening, as we were cooking together at my place—my clean, peaceful place that no longer had a dedicated drawer for her things—my phone buzzed on the counter. A number I didn't recognize, but I knew with a cold certainty it was her.
Unknown number, 9:14 p.m.: "Leo, it's Chloe. I know you have me blocked. I'm using my mom's phone. Please, I'm sorry. I see everything so clearly now. He used me. You were the only real thing in my life. Please call me."
I showed the phone to Sarah. "My sister," I said, with a wry smile.
Sarah read it, her eyebrow arching. "Yikes. The desperation is palpable." She handed the phone back. "You going to call her?"
"No," I said, and the word felt clean and absolute. I blocked that number, too. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
And for the first time, I knew it was the undeniable truth. The ghost had not only found peace; he had built a new life, and he had no intention of haunting the old one.
The first time she saw us was at the Oak Barrel, a low-lit gastropub Matt had chosen for his birthday. It was 3 months into my new life, and Sarah's presence beside me felt as natural as breathing. We were holding hands, our fingers interlaced on the table as we laughed at one of Matt's terrible jokes. I was relaxed, present in a way I never could be when I was on constant alert for Chloe's next crisis.
The door opened, casting a shaft of evening light into the room. And there she was.
Chloe stood frozen in the entrance, her eyes scanning the room before they landed on me. Then they darted to Sarah, to our joined hands, and back to my face. I saw the blood drain from her complexion in a visible wave, leaving her pale and stunned. It was the look of someone who had just watched their entire reality rewrite itself without their permission.
She recovered quickly, a brittle, performative smile snapping into place. She strode over, ignoring everyone else at the table.
"Leo! Oh my god, I haven't seen you in forever!" Her voice was an octave too high. Her eyes were locked on me, desperately trying to pretend Sarah was a hallucination. "Who's this?"