Sheridan had always been sure of two things from the time her father passed away:
There was no such thing as ghosts, and once a person was dead, they didn’t come back.
What did that mean about Juan? Had he merely been a figment of her imagination, composed of all the stress and fatigue that plagued her subconscious from the moment she met Justin? No, that couldn’t be it. It just didn’t make sense. She’d talked to Juan countless times, gone places with him, hugged him...even kissed him a little bit. He was definitely real.
So if he was, why then was he able to appear and reappear in front of her so quickly? She couldn’t answer that question, and he didn’t seem to be coming back to help her with the issue either. She’d been left alone in a house full of people who hated her, and a boyfriend that had been distant from her since the day she’d arrived to spend the weekend with him. She tried to move past that fateful afternoon, tried not to make a big deal of what Rachael said to her, and what she was sure Justin had been told. She tried to smile and make small talk with him because she loved him, but he seemed to find every excuse to go rejoin the group of people relaxing in his living room without her at his side. They couldn’t be alone together, Sheridan realized. They couldn’t because he didn’t want to be alone with her, and that hurt. That hurt her so much.
She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t, and if Rachael couldn’t see that...if Elisha couldn’t see that, it wasn’t her problem. After all, hadn’t Justin been the one to say it didn’t matter what other people thought? Wasn’t she right to hold her head high and ignore them? Yes, so why wasn’t Justin acting that way too? Why did he seem to flock to them now...ignore her, not give her a chance to explain herself? She really wasn’t sure, all she knew was that every time Justin looked into her eyes, he seemed let down, even hurt, and she wasn’t sure just why that was. She figured the best thing to do was wait it out, not run away so soon. Once Justin’s friends left she was sure he wouldn’t have a choice but to talk to her.
At least, that’s what she hoped.
She spent Saturday and Sunday night in a guest room. Justin went to bed really early both nights, claiming he didn’t feel well, and Rachael told Sheridan it would be best if she stayed away from him. It was an awkward situation. She was treated as an outcast whenever Justin retreated to the confines of his room. His group of friends didn’t want to get to know her. She seemed to freak them out. Really, she should have left. She was causing herself too much heartache over people’s opinions of her, but she wasn’t going to leave without getting her point across to Justin. He’d invited her to his house so they could spend time together, and he was fucked up to ignore her. Fucked up to buy into Elisha and Rachael’s bullshit. No, she would stay right where she was, until she felt it was truly time for her to leave.
She sat on his back deck now, watching as the sun began to descend over the Hollywood Hills. It was slowly approaching Monday night, and the last of the guests had left a couple of hours ago. Even Elisha had escaped the house this particular night to have dinner with JC and some other friends. That only left Justin, Rachael, and her boyfriend, and the two lovebirds had retreated to the guest house when the last of the guests had departed. Sheridan had been sitting out here ever since, alone. She half expected Justin to stop watching television in the living room to join her, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t said a fucking word to her, and she knew he was waiting for her to make the first move. But why should she have to? They loved each other. People that loved each other didn’t do this did they? She just didn’t understand.
“Where’s Rachael?”
She gasped and looked behind her. Justin was positioned in the doorway, his hand on his joystick, seeming to debate whether he should join her. “Guest house,” she muttered, before looking away from him again.
She heard the sound of his chair moving closer to her after several moments, and then he was beside her, looking out over the horizon like she was. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” he finally asked.
“Don’t put this all on me, Justin,” Sheridan muttered. “You’ve acted like a complete asshole this weekend.”
“Like you’ve been any better,” he countered. “You did some fucked up shit in front of my cousin...in front of my friends, like it didn’t even matter. I mean, fuck...it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“I’d like to know what the hell I did that was so fucking horrible Justin!” She yelled it at him as she rose out of the chair and held her hands out at her sides in bitter frustration. “Why the hell couldn’t you talk to me about it! Why...why did you just...ignore me!”
She was sobbing now, but he didn't seem to care. He wouldn’t even look at her.
“Justin!”
He quickly turned himself around and gave her the darkest look she’d ever seen on his face. Even in the beginning, when he was still so bitter about everything, he never looked at her like that. “Who the fuck do you think you are telling Rachael you were talking to Trace?” He blurted it out at her, like he’d been holding it in for days.
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“You know what you did, Sheridan.”
She had to sit down, otherwise she would have surely fallen down. “My friend Juan was here. I talked to him for a while, and all of a sudden, everybody is telling me that I’m crazy, and you’re ignoring me too.”
“Are you hearing yourself?” He scoffed. “Really, Sher? What the hell is going on with you!”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Explain it to me then. Fucking explain it to me!”
“Trace’s death isn’t a fucking joke, or a game,” he said darkly. “You tried to turn it into one. I mean, Rachael is still really fragile about it and then you go and pull this.”
“I never mentioned Trace!” She snapped back at him. “Where the hell are you pulling this out of?”
“Your friend Juan?” Justin exclaimed. “Your friend Juan who just so happens to be a friend of ours?”
“He is!”
“He’s dead!” He pounded his hand on the arm of his chair angrily.
Sheridan froze. “W-what?” She got out. “What do you mean?”
“Trace is dead,” Justin grunted at her. “And I don’t even know...where you got his real name from, or why you did what you did, Sheridan. But I can’t...I can’t keep lying to myself, telling myself that you’re not capable of what Rachael said you did. I know it’s the truth, and that makes me doubt everything about this relationship.”
“Trace’s real name is Juan?” She couldn’t even focus on the uncertainty of her relationship with Justin. The shock had hit her too hard. She felt lost, like somebody had just yanked a rug out from under her and she’d hit the floor so hard that couldn’t get back up again. She could barely catch her breath.
“It was.” Justin snapped.
“He was there...he was...” Sheridan trailed off. “I’ve been talking to him for months...I swear, Justin...”
Justin shook his head harshly. “How dare you. How could you be this disrespectful in my own fucking house, Sheridan?” He turned his chair completely away from her. r32;
“Justin wait. Listen to me!”
But he didn’t wait.
“I want you out,” he called to her once he’d glided back over to the doorway. “Get your stuff and leave.”
“I’ll call him right now and prove it!” She yelled, the tears pouring out of her eyes as she frantically dug her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll prove it!”
Justin only shook his head, like he was finished trying to reason with her, and disappeared into the house.
But Sheridan was determined. She frantically pulled up Juan’s number and pressed send, hoping and praying that he would answer. That he would agree to talk some sense into Justin for her.
What she heard next, made her want to vomit.
“The number you have dialed is not in service at this time...”
She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it stupidly. It was as if her friend never existed. It was all a lie and she was a fool. The phone slid out of her hand and hit the deck with a miserable thud. She didn’t know what else to do, but she figured it wasn’t benefitting her to stay. Justin didn’t love her anymore. She’d completely turned him against her, and for what? For a little comfort from somebody she barely knew? It was all in her head. She’d been losing it...not even aware of that fact, and now...now she was going to lose the one person she loved more than anything because of it.
She ran through the house and quickly shoved her clothes into the bags she’d brought with her. Justin was no where to be found when she came back downstairs, but Sheridan liked it better that way. There was no reason to say goodbye to him. It was obvious that three weeks had changed them, strained their relationship, and what happened with Juan and Rachael had been the last straw. She needed to get her life together, pack, go back to school and move on with her life. Justin would move on with his, just like she knew he would from the moment he told her he was leaving the ranch. Soon, it would seem as if they’d never known one another, that they’d never fallen in love.
She didn’t even know if they’d ever really loved each other to begin with. Perhaps he needed her to comfort him because he had nobody else, and he’d suffered a great loss. It wasn’t really love, just an infatuation. He’d used her, and maybe...maybe she’d used him too.
Sheridan threw her bags in the trunk and got into her car, slamming the door and sobbing into the steering wheel once she started the engine. The pain she’d been trying to force away from her was penetrating her deeply now, inside of her soul, telling her that this wasn’t right. That Justin had been mislead and he did love her. He loved her more than anything. Something was pulling at her, telling her she needed to give it time, that there was an explanation to the situation that was beyond her. But how was she supposed to fix it? She was crazy...talked to people that weren’t really there...
“Who are you?” She whispered, praying he’d come to her then, tell her everything was okay and that he could explain. “Tell me who you are.”
But Juan didn’t come.
Sheridan took a deep, slow breath. She wondered if it was possible. If he really could have tricked her into believing he was somebody else. After all, she’d still neglected to look at a picture of Trace. It had never crossed her mind to ask Justin for one. Sheridan had been so focused on getting Justin past his friends death, she’d never grown all that curious about what he looked like. Now though...she really wished she’d taken the time to find out more about Trace. If she had, maybe she would have been able to stop all of this Juan business from the very beginning. “Trace,” she whispered next. “I need to know if it’s you.”
The motor hummed, the radio played quietly in the background, but nobody spoke. Nobody appeared in the seat behind or beside her. Sheridan was alone, and she laughed sadly to herself. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. Trace was dead, and Juan...Juan was some twisted imaginary friend she’d conjured up to comfort herself she guessed. She stepped on the gas harshly and peeled out of the driveway, sped through the gate that had been opened for her by who she could only assume was Justin. He was ready to let her go, to forget all about her.
She knew she had to forget about him too.
*****************
Sheridan decided to act like the perfect daughter when her mother arrived home that Tuesday. She wasn’t ready to hear the ‘I told you so’s’ that her mother would have surely dished out if she told her that Justin broke up with her. It wasn’t worth the heartache. She decided the best thing to do was talk to her about going back to New York as soon as possible. Her mother hadn’t withdrawn the offer to rent out that apartment in Manhattan for her. Since things were so bad at home, the prospect of moving to New York City permanently seemed like a great idea. She could be with Marcy again. Marcy who understood her, and would push her out into the dating world faster than she could finish telling her the story of her breakup. It would be good for her, she decided. Justin had been out of her league from the very beginning and she knew dating some eligible pre med was more her speed.
Sheridan was going to change her life and never look back.
“Well this is a sudden change.” Her mother smiled at her from across the table nearly a week later. They’d gone out to dinner at Sheridan’s favorite restaurant, something they usually did right before she went back to school. “For a while I was afraid you were going to tell me you were transferring your credits over to UCLA so you could be closer to Justin.”
Sheridan looked down at her steak as she cut into it. “No. I...I have to focus on school.”
“Sheridan.”
She knew she couldn’t play dumb with her mother all night, but she was going to try to focus on any subject other than Justin if she could. “Yeah?”
“You’ve seemed a little despondent since I came home from the convention. Did something happen while you were with your girlfriends?”
She shrugged a little, trying to buy enough time to think of something good to tell her mother. “You know, we just fought a little bit. I just...didn’t know them as well as I thought.”
The smallest smirk formed at the corner of her mothers mouth, but she withdrew it quickly. “Sometimes you find these things out the hard way.”
Sheridan knew it was a metaphor. Her mother wasn’t stupid. She knew she’d been with Justin while she was away, but wasn’t going to point that out. Just like her, her mother tried to avoid arguments if she could. “Yeah,” Sheridan whispered, looking down at her food again. “I guess so.”
“I suppose you’d still like the apartment,” her mother spoke up moments later.
When Sheridan looked up again her mother was staring at her. “If...if you still want to get it for me.”
“I will,” she nodded. “But if you get distracted I’ll send you back to the dorms.”
Distracted meaning, if Justin tried to come back into her life. Sheridan wanted to laugh, but didn’t. It was a ridiculous idea. She was sure he hated her, as he hadn’t attempted to call her at all. “I won’t be distracted,” Sheridan reassured her. “If it’s okay, I’d like to have Marcy stay with me though.”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll call the realtor tomorrow morning.”
Sheridan nodded slowly. “I...I think I’d like to go next week.”
“So soon?” Her mother cocked her head to the side. “You usually wait a couple of weeks, Sheridan. Term doesn’t start for nearly a month.”
She just shrugged. “I...I just kind of want to get started. I mean, it’s my senior year. I want to make the most of it. One of my professors sent an email out about an extra credit assignment for people who come to campus early. I can do that while I’m waiting for classes to start.”
That part was the truth of course. The only thing was, she’d had the extra credit assignment done weeks ago, planning to turn it in on the first day of classes so she could get the extra credit regardless. Her mother didn’t know that of course, but she seemed pleased with the idea, and happily agreed to let her leave California the following week. Sheridan was relieved, she called Marcy and they started making plans to furnish the apartment and have a little bit of fun with some of the people they usually hung out with. They didn’t talk about Justin, which Sheridan thought was strange since she was talking to Marcy, but decided she was waiting to see her friend face to face. It was better. Sheridan could take more time to collect herself and figure out just how she would tell Marcy about Juan and his disappearing act, without sounding crazy.
The next few days consisted of packing her bags, talking things out with the interior decorator her mother had hired to help pick things for the apartment, and trying desperately to push Justin from her memory. Out of everything she had to do, forgetting about Justin was the hardest. The smallest part of her was waiting for the phone to ring, to hear his voice. She wanted him to tell her that he didn’t hate her. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t be his girlfriend so much as she couldn’t be his friend anymore. She had to stop herself from calling him several times, she even deleted his number from her phone, hoping that would help. It didn’t of course. The number was embedded into her memory, and she couldn’t shake it away.
“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Her mother said, as she held Sheridan’s hands in hers as they stood in the drop off area at LAX the following week. “You know where the decorators office is?”r32;
“Mom I know,” Sheridan sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. You’ve never been so concerned about me going to school before.”
“I know...” She trailed off and sighed. “But you’ve had a different kind of summer, Sheridan.”
Sheridan shook her head. “No...”
“Yes.” Her mother smiled and nodded. “I don’t care what you say...I know you fell in love. That’s a special thing, and hard to deal with when it’s gone.”
Sheridan yanked her hands out of her mothers grasp. “Mom, please.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Sheridan.” Her mother’s expression softened, a knowing gaze apparent in her eyes. “He’s a nice guy. I thought...perhaps, you two might have made it work somehow.”
She felt a lump form in her throat, and nearly had to turn away from her mother. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “It was just...silly.”
Her mother shook her head a little and pecked Sheridan on the cheek. “Love is never silly. I know...I know you loved him, Sheridan. Maybe you still do. I’m sorry if I made it harder for you. I was just trying to look out for you.”
“It wasn’t your fault, mom,” she said, because it was the truth. “He’s...we’re just too different I guess.”
“Call me when you land,” her mother said, obviously trying to change the subject so Sheridan wouldn’t become more upset. “Have a good flight, baby.”
Sheridan hugged her mother tightly, one last time. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Then she was alone, watching as her mother’s figure drew further and further away from her and back out the drop off entrance. It was all up to her now. It was her life again, officially. She was in charge of everything that was about to happen, and she refused to fail something else in her life. She would succeed in her school work, and have fun with her friends. No longer would she be wimpy Sheridan, shut up in her dorm room with her nose in a book while Marcy went out to have some fun. It was time to be an adult, time to show the world that she was capable of anything.
She popped a sleeping pill, and immediately passed out once the plane took off. When her eyes drifted open again, she glanced out the window to find the plane was beginning to make it’s decent upon New York City. Sheridan smiled as she stared at the glittering lights down below. Soon she would be a part of it. Marcy would greet her at baggage claim and they would go for a cocktail to catch up on things. She would spend her first night in their new apartment, and wake up a new woman.
That was the plan anyway.
“So...a weird thing happened.”
It was the first thing Marcy said to her when Sheridan finally found her in the baggage claim, and by the tone of her friends voice, she knew it was something she might not want to hear. “Maybe you should wait to tell me,” Sheridan laughed tiredly. “I’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”
“I should be pissed at you for not talking to me about it,” Marcy said with a rough sigh as she looped her arm through Sheridan’s.
“I’ll tell you once my headache goes away.”
“Well I need to tell you this,” Marcy reiterated, as they waited for Sheridan’s bags to come around.
Sheridan looked at her friend. “Is it that big of a deal?”
“It seriously creeped me out.”
Sheridan felt her skin begin to crawl, exactly the way it did whenever Juan vanished or touched her. “What happened?”
“I went to the apartment this morning. Remember how you wanted me to check the on the furniture order?”
Sheridan only nodded.
“Well I did, and when I came back downstairs, there was this guy standing in the lobby looking down the directory list. I thought it was kind of weird, you know, since there’s a door man and everything. I asked him who he was looking for, and when...when he turned around, I realized who it was. I just...I kind of freaked out and ran away.”
Sheridan’s heart began to pound violently in her chest, and she almost didn’t want to ask Marcy the next question. “Who was it?”
“I know it’s crazy...” Marcy grimaced. “But I swear, Sheridan...he looked just like Trace.”
Sheridan began to shudder. “What...what do you mean?”
“I mean, it was him. It had to be. Unless he has a twin or something. But I might have looked too fast before I ran. I just...I needed to tell somebody that might understand, that’s all.”
It hit her then that Marcy knew what Trace looked like. All she had to do was ask her, and she would have her answer. She would know if Juan was truly...Trace himself. “Marcy, I...I need to know what he looks like.”
Marcy seemed confused. Probably because she’d been expecting her to freak out, and call Justin. “You’ve never seen a picture?”
“No,” Sheridan muttered, and grabbed for one of her bags when she spotted it on the carousel. “I never thought to ask Justin.”
“Well...” Marcy unzipped her book bag and began to dig through it. “I might...I mean, unless I threw it out. His picture was in a magazine I bought a few weeks ago...oh here it is,” she smiled slightly as she fished it out of her bag. “I think the article is on page eighty something.”
It took all of Sheridan’s strength not to snatch the magazine from her friend as it was handed over to her. Then she was frantically flipping through it, sure that Marcy was about to deem her certifiably insane. She finally located the article on page eighty-three, and Justin’s smile took her over almost immediately. The picture of him was larger than life. He was holding up an award in his hands proudly, like he was the happiest he’d ever been. It was a different version of her ex boyfriend, the one she wasn’t privileged enough to know. She quickly flipped the page, to rid herself of him. The next couple of pages were filled with some more pictures of him, along with a long article about his achievements and an analyzation of his injuries. Sheridan skipped this as well, because she knew all she had to know about Justin Timberlake. Then she was on the last page, and she couldn’t stop staring. Her hands were shaking as Juan smiled back at her playfully, his arms around a blonde woman that she immediately recognized as Elisha. His eyes were bright and happy, and his face was full of color. He looked so warm, so full of life, a way she’d never been able to see him before. Sheridan realized she didn’t know him at all. She’d been an outsider when he had this life with Justin and his gorgeous girlfriend. Her eyes drifted to the blurb printed below the picture of the happy, vibrant couple and she read it slowly, trying to take it in the best way she could. “Juan Romero Ayala, better known as Trace Ayala, leaves behind his girlfriend, actress Elisha Cuthbert, who is expecting his child later this year.”
The magazine slipped through her fingers.
It couldn’t be true.
But it was.
“Sheridan?”
She barely glanced at Marcy before she made a run for the bathroom, the bile rising up in her throat as every memory of Juan drifted through her mind. The day at the beach, the way he’d smiled and kissed her. She’d been spending time with a dead man. How? How could it have happened?
She vomited violently into the toilet when she finally got into the bathroom, being able to hear Marcy consoling her through the stall door moments later.
“Calm down,” she heard a voice say. Then she felt a hand on her back, and assumed that Marcy had somehow crawled under the door to help her relax.
“I can’t calm down,” she coughed as she braced herself over the toilet with her hands. “I don’t know what’s going on...”
Her hair was pulled back behind her head, and the hand continued to rub her back for a while. “I tried to tell you for a long time. I just...I couldn’t tell you straight out, Sheridan. I didn’t know how. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
It wasn’t Marcy.
Sheridan shrieked and whirled around. There he was, right in front of her face. He was paler, so much paler than she’d ever seen him. His eyes were sunken in and blood shot, and he was fatigued, as if he hadn’t slept in years. A bracelet glowed a brilliant white around his wrist, and she probably would have wondered what it was for, if she wasn’t so freaked out. “Get away from me!” She screamed, and pushed herself up against the back of the stall.
“Sheridan?” Marcy called out. “Sher, what’s wrong?”
“She can’t hear me or see me,” Juan pointed out to her. “Tell her to get out.”
“Thisisn’thappeningthisisn’thappeningthisisn’thappening.” Sheridan rapidly repeated to herself as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m just stressed out. He’s not there. I’m just stressed out.”
“My real name is Juan, but my friends and family called me Trace when I was alive,” he continued. “I heard you ask for me that night in the car, Sheridan. But I couldn’t come then. I’m sorry. Your friend is telling the truth...she did see me this morning at your apartment building. I was trying to find you, but then I realized you hadn’t gotten back to the city yet. I need you to come with me so we can talk.”
“Sheridan what’s wrong! Let me in!” Marcy yelled as she pounded on the locked stall door. “You’re scaring me!”
“Tell her to leave,” Trace persisted.
“This isn’t happening.” She coughed again and pushed away from the wall. He stared at her as she stepped forward, and she found that she could walk directly through him this time. It felt like she was passing through a wall of ice when she did it, and she whirled around before she opened the door for Marcy, only to find that he’d vanished again.
Oh my god...
“Sheridan!”
She finally unlocked the door, and Marcy rushed into the stall, a crazed expression her face. “What the hell Sheridan!”
“I just...” She whimpered and slid down to the floor and moaned into her hands. “Oh my god.”
She didn’t know what else to do. Everything she’d predicted had been proven right, and how the hell was she supposed to make sense of it all? Trace was dead, and here he was coming to talk to her like it was so fucking imperative. It also meant that Justin had never been delusional to begin with. His friend had been coming back to him for real, for reasons that Sheridan could only guess at. It just didn’t make sense. Things like this only happened on TV or in the movies. People didn’t really get haunted, right? No...no...there had to be another explanation.
“Sheridan,” Marcy finally spoke up again, as Sheridan wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked herself back and forth for some comfort. “What’s happening? Is it...is it about Trace?”
She shook her head roughly. “I don’t know anymore, Marcy. I just don’t know.”
And nobody else but Marcy would have helped Sheridan to her feet without another question. They gathered her bags and hailed a taxi, silently riding back to the apartment together. Once safely inside the place, Marcy locked the door behind them and helped Sheridan crawl into bed before getting into it with her.
“I dont’ know who I saw,” Marcy spoke up after a while. “I...I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
Sheridan barely acknowledged her friends apology. “Justin broke up with me,” she admitted, her voice cracking a little.
Marcy shifted her body so she could look her friend in the face. “What? Why...I mean, I thought you guys were...”
“We were,” Sheridan sniffled. “Do you remember that guy Juan I met at Silver the night we went?”
“The one I didn’t meet? Yeah.”
She looked her friend dead in the eyes. “Marcy you can’t think I’m crazy, because I’m not.”
Marcy nodded, her eyes wide, as if she had no idea what Sheridan was about to say. “Okay...”
“Marcy, that guy...it’s Trace. It is.”r32;r32;“No.” Marcy shook her head. “Trace is dead.”
“You saw him too.” She told Marcy, frantically. “He was looking for me this morning.”
“Sheridan...I know...I mean, I’m sorry Justin broke up with you. He’s a jerk for doing that. He’s making you crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, Marcy!” She cried out, and proceeded to tell her what happened at Justin’s house, what Rachael told Justin, and how he reacted.
“I just don’t see how it could have happened, Sher,” Marcy told her after several minutes of silence following Sheridan’s explanation. “I mean, Trace? Back from the dead?”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she whimpered. “It’s like, he needs me for some reason. He was trying to tell me in the bathroom, but I guess I scared him away.”
Marcy gasped. “He...he was in the bathroom?”
“He just sort of appeared behind me in the stall,” Sheridan told her, trying to sound calm. “He does that.”
r32;Marcy was silent again for a while. “Maybe you should tell Justin.”
“I tried that, remember? We’re no longer on speaking terms.”
Marcy huffed. “It’s not fair. He should understand. The guy was his best friend. I’m about to call him and tell him myself.”
“It won’t matter,” Sheridan told her quietly. “He doesn’t want to believe that I’ve seen Trace. I guess maybe...if he did believe it, he’d have to believe that he’s been talking to him all along too, because he’s been appearing to him from the very beginning. I don’t think he wants to accept that, Marcy. He wants to move on with his life.”
“Why isn’t Trace letting him?”
Marcy was asking her seriously, and that meant that she believed her. It eased Sheridan’s mind slightly to know that she finally had somebody on her side that believed her...that understood. Marcy had always been different though, always one to stray off the beaten path. She liked new ideas and challenges, and Sheridan had never been more thankful to be here friend. “Maybe he needs something from him,” she whispered.
“Let’s assume this is real then,” Marcy decided after a moment. “I mean, it’s only logical that Trace has unfinished business. Look at everything he left behind when he died.”
“It’s hard to accept that Trace is for real,” Sheridan scoffed. “This whole thing is so crazy. Maybe I’m dreaming...maybe this whole summer has been a crazy dream.”
Marcy pinched her hard.
“Ow!”
“You’re awake,” Marcy smirked. “Hell, Sher, I’m freaked out too okay? But I mean, maybe if he does come back to talk to you...you should give him a chance to explain himself. Maybe things will make more sense that way.”
“So you’re telling me it’s okay to talk to a ghost?” Sheridan said skeptically. “Because that’s what he is, if we’re going to say that he’s real, Marcy.”
Marcy just shrugged. “You have to get him to stop coming back, Sheridan. I mean, yeah, it’s creepy, but right now that’s the only thing that makes sense, you know? He doesn’t belong here.”
Her friend had a point, and actually, it was the first time anything about Trace seemed to make sense. She didn’t reiterate her feelings though. She was too weak now. She needed her rest, and so she simply stared up at the ceiling and tried to drift off to sleep, going over in her head what she was going to do if Trace did happen to pop back into her life. She also allowed herself to think about Justin for a few moments, hoping like hell that he was doing okay back home with his family and friends. She hoped things would start to make more sense to him, that Trace would have the decency to go to him and tell him things that would push him to believe that it wasn’t her fault that Rachael got so upset. She didn’t expect him to tell her that he couldn’t live without her...all she wanted was the peace of mind that he could rely on her again. That he trusted her. That they could be friends despite everything that happened.
She hoped Trace could help her, and she hoped she could face him again rationally, without focusing on the fact that he was dead. The idea was crazy of course, but something inside was telling her that she would have to do it, that she wouldn’t have a choice in the end. That something bigger than both herself and Justin was in control here, and if she didn’t do something about it, something horrible would happen, perhaps to Trace, and she was sure he didn’t deserve it. He deserved to pass on peacefully, remembered by many as an honest, hardworking guy.
And Sheridan...Sheridan needed to regard him as her friend. That was what he’d always been when she believed him to be Juan, alive and well. Things shouldn’t have changed because she found out the truth. He obviously trusted her, didn’t just show himself to anybody, and of course she didn’t know why but she knew it wasn’t her place to question it. He’d chosen her, and she needed to accept that and go with it.
All he needed to do now, was come back and talk to her. But Sheridan feared she’d done too much damage. That she’d turned him off. She would have to be patient, wait for him, even thought she had no idea how she’d manage to do it. But she was strong, she would hold her head high and try to move on with her life until the time came to face Trace again.
Even if she had to do it without Justin.
Incomplete
ialwayzbesingin is the author of 25 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Broken also liked 6 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Broken also liked 6 other stories.
Story Tags: justinandtrace
