“It’s good, right?” I ask.
“Kinda hard to follow, honestly.”
“So, the writer confirmed she wasn’t actually having a conversation with a dead person,” I say.
“Sure looked like she was.”
“Oh, definitely,” I agree. “I only know because I googled it.”
I remember the first time I ever saw Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I was in high school and someone online recommended season 6 episode 17. From the moment I watched it, I was hooked. I watched it multiple times, to the point where I had the dialogue basically memorized.
“You know I sometimes have dreams where I talk to Eric.” I say.
I explain how in the dreams, he’s not a ghost or anything. It’s really him there talking to me.
“What do you talk about?”
“Different things,” I reply. “Sometimes I talk about how I’m sad he wasn’t at our wedding. Like how I wish he’d been there.”
That night, after watching Buffy, I have a vivid dream. I’m in my parents’ house in the US, and my siblings (including Eric) are all there. We’re just hanging out like normal, having a conversation about Harry Potter. Everything seems back to how it was before.
The next morning, I walk to school and teach my students. They’re all feeling a little tired these days because they have a big exam coming up. I try to make jokes to lighten their mood. They’re only in middle school, after all. No reason to be so stressed all the time.
I come home and dinner’s already made.
“How was work?”
“It was fine,” I say. I recount a few stories from school. Some jokes some kids made. Some silly things that happened.
“You sleep ok last night?”
“Yeah? Why do you ask?”
“You were talking in your sleep.”
“I was?”
That night, I have a very vivid dream. I’m sitting with Eric around the kitchen table in my parents’ home. The dream begins in the middle of our conversation.
“- really hard,” Eric is saying. “I don’t know if it’ll ever get better.”
“You think I don’t know how long it’s been?” I ask.
“I know,” Eric says.
“Do you realize that for the last ten years every time you didn’t text me back, I’d think, ‘Well, I guess he finally did it’. Every time mom or dad called, I’d assume it was to tell me that you killed yourself!”
“I know.”
“At least here in Taiwan, I can forget about you sometimes.”
“Life is good in Taiwan?” Eric asks.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s better than being back home. Your room is full of ghosts.”
“So that’s why you moved to Taiwan?”
“No, I mean-that’s not WHY I moved. I love Taiwan. I’ve always wanted to live here.”
“And you’re happy there?”
“Well, it’s not like I’m alone.” I say, answering a different question.
It’s raining the next morning. That means that the streets will be crowded with umbrellas. I’m one of those crazy people who walks to school without one. I push my hair under my coat’s hood and dance around the puddles.
I arrive at school looking like a drowned rat. The heavy clouds cling to the tops of buildings. No chance my shoes will dry out today. I teach in wet socks.
I come home and the house is dark. Dinner is left for me on the stove. I watch Buffy and snuggle under the blankets.
Outside my parents’ house in the states, I can see a cloudless night sky. My other siblings and Eric are all sitting around the table. We’re playing Clue. But we’re doing it the way only our family does, where we keep track of not only our own guesses but also the guesses of everybody else. If you figure out all the cards in play it’s easy to predict the missing ones.
During a pause in the game, Eric asks, “So you really like living in Taiwan?”
I explain how it’s easier to live in Taiwan. Nobody knows your past, so it’s like you can build a whole new persona, a whole new life.
“Away from your family,” Eric adds.
“Look, you decided you wanted to leave first,” I protest. “How many times did you try to kill yourself? 3?! You don’t get to preach to me about leaving!”
“I’m here now,” Eric says.
“Yeah, now,” I say. “But it won’t last.”
“That’s life,” Eric says. “You’re going to spend it living a fantasy?”
“I’m just trying to make it last longer,” I reply.
Everything goes dark. I get up and fumble around for the lights.
I turn them on, then crawl back into bed as the credits start rolling.
We finish watching ’til the end, then I turn away from the screen.
“It’s good, right?” I ask.