I See You

CHAPTER 7 - Sharing in Firsts

Celebrating the holidays hadn't been significant or meaningful in either of their lives for a very long time, but if there was ever a year to celebrate, it was this one. Wyatt was determined to do everything in his power to give Emma a true holiday experience. So far, Thanksgiving had been the best he had had in over a decade, and Emma learned the joys of a giant turkey submerged in scalding grease.

The next afternoon he had dragged her out and got her that Christmas tree after all. He made a whole day of it where they strung popcorn, glittered pinecones, and tied dozens of little red bows on the branches. They had chosen white lights, and Emma picked out a glittery snowflake for the top. He had even convinced her to hang two stockings over the fireplace and put a large wreath on the front door.

Wyatt was so proud of his little bird. She had done very well with the new furniture deliveries, instructed where she wanted things placed, and barely shook as she guided strangers around. While the majority of the space was extremely minimalistic, Emma was slowly leaving her mark, and Wyatt's emotions were all over the place as he finally got to see this house turn into a real home.

Not having actual muscles or needing sleep, he never thought about sitting or lying down, but now with comfy places to do just that, he found himself lounging more regularly. He even laid next to Emma when she slept, often watching her drift off with firelight dancing in her eyes. Staying was mostly to wake her when she had the nightmare, but that happened less now. Even so, he continued to convince himself that was why he laid by her side, that it wasn't because he craved her nearness.

It was now December, and Wyatt felt like long forgotten dreams were finally coming true... mostly. His unspoken sentiment was shared by Emma who didn't feel like anything was missing in her life or their odd relationship. Her only wish was to be able to give him as much as he gave her.

Emma loved having someone to cook for, but it didn't seem like nearly enough to express her gratitude. Some days it was hard to believe she had only been in this house for ten weeks. So much had changed. She never could have imagined all the pain, loss, and confusion would have led her to one of the happiest times in her life. Trying to see this very unbelievable situation through a practical lens, Emma couldn't help but realize a ghost was the absolute perfect companion for her.

Silence had always been more comfortable than sound, and she didn't mind using the tablet for conversations. Most people talked too fast anyway. As for his invisibility, she preferred knowing he was in a room, but not always being able to see him ensured Emma never felt like she needed solitude. Wyatt also kept himself busy. Touch was the only thing that left a hollow spot in her chest. Countless times she had reached for him only to grasp the fabric of his clothes or pass through him entirely.

At times, it was more than that. She tried to ignore it, but feelings were forming, a connection like she had never felt with another person. Emma tried to tell herself it was because she had never had a true friend before, but the lie felt like cobwebs in her throat, sticky and tangled. The attraction she felt was more than friendship. She told herself it was the rebound factor, her loneliness and fear creating something that wasn't there. There was no way she could allow herself to fall for a sentient apparition. Wyatt was dead, and that fact had to remain at the forefront of her thoughts.

Maybe not being able to see him or touch him was a good thing. It drew an uncrossable line and kept them each aware of their situation. Still, she knew there was love there even if it would never be romantic. Wyatt was changing her world for the better, and that meant more than she could ever define. He had become her safety net, the champion of her baby steps, and he did it all without reproach or condescension.

That night, Wyatt walked up from the basement wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved thermal, pushed up on his arms. Paint and dirt marked areas of his skin, and Emma could just make out where his hands would be, the curve of his jaw, and the top of his forehead.