Talia

(Author’s Note: All tense changes are intentional. Enjoy!)

“And how long ago did she pass?” asked Dr. Miller.
“Four years, two months, and seventeen days,” I answered immediately.
As the doctor began to scribble down the information into her notes, I took the opportunity to admire the office. Well, admire is a strong word—I would say study is more like it. The place was terribly eccentric, but I suppose you get what you pay for. It reminded me of a fortune teller’s tent at the fair more than anything, and I was not even sure the diploma hanging on the wall was real; it had the Brooklyn College seal but something about it was off.
She finished writing and caught my attention again. “That’s quite detailed,” she said.
“Hard to forget,” I replied. “She left the apartment at six fourteen a.m. I received the call at eight fifty-six a.m. When I arrived at the hospital, it was half past nine exactly. By the time I got there, she only survived for eight more minutes. The wound was horrible.”
Just the inkling of the memory made my throat ache. My knees felt weak even though I was sitting. I looked down at my hands, my feet, the outfit I chose to wear today. I felt my hair brush against the sides of my face, hyper aware of any proof of the existence of my body. I become anxious at the thought that I am still here, as if it should not be allowed to be true.
“I’d like to talk about something else,” I said.
“Alright,” the doctor obliged.
After some time, I felt less nervous—somehow the subject of my abusive father was much less daunting to me. When the session had finished, the doctor kept me from leaving only a moment more and again scribbled something down, this time on a small piece of paper she had torn from a different notepad. She placed it into my hand.
“I’m going to put you on medication to help you with your nerves for the time being,” she said. “Your insurance will cover most of it, and it’s not too expensive, anyhow.”
I thanked her and left.
The day after, in the evening, I made a trip to the pharmacy to pick up my first dose. I presented the little paper to the man behind the counter and he returned with a sizable brown bottle of some liquid, a receipt, and a pen.
“It’s not a pill?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “Many places don’t even carry it—almost every patient that has to take it switches to something else because of the side effects, so it doesn’t sell.”
“What kind of side effects?”
“Hallucinations are the most common one that people report,” he replied.
“Some others have gotten addicted to it. No deaths yet, though.”
I heaved a sigh. “Well, I’m sure my body has endured worse,” I said, and signed the bottom of the receipt.
When I arrived back home, it was nearly eleven o’clock. I removed the bottle from its paper bag and studied the label on the back. On the cup attached to the bottle’s lid were the characters “40-mL” etched into the plastic.
“I haven’t taken liquid medicine since I was a kid,” I said aloud, but shrugged it off and swallowed. After it was in my system, I retired to my bedroom, and fell asleep with ease for the first time in four years, two months, and seventeen days.
I awoke some hours later with a bursting bladder, but when I returned from the bathroom, I nearly emptied it again.
A red-haired woman with pale skin, wearing only a bra and shorts, was snoring peacefully on the other side of the bed, her back toward me. I recognized her immediately.
“Talia?”
I stepped forward and sat back down on the mattress, switching on my lamp.
“I’m dreaming,” I thought. “It’s just a dream. I must be dreaming.”
But I placed my hand on her arm, and I felt her.
She stirred under my touch and turned to face me with squinted eyes. “Ana?”
“Talia?” I repeated. “How—?”
She turned to glance at the clock. “It’s four in the morning.”
“I—” I stared at her in awe. I could not put the pieces together quickly enough. “I’m dreaming,” I said aloud.
Wait a minute, my deceased wife was back from the dead and all I could think to do was talk to myself?
“Talia—you’re—you’re alive.”
“What do you mean ‘you’re alive?’ Of course I’m alive,” she chuckled. She sat up on her elbows.
I rubbed my eyes violently. I reached out for her again and she grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her, onto my side.
“What’s the matter with you? Did you have a nightmare or something?”
“I’d argue I’m having one right now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she laughed. It reminded me of how badly I missed it, how I missed her smile.
“Talia, I don’t understand. You’ve been dead for four years.”
“I swear to god, if you got high without me—”
“No, I’m serious. I lost you. It was the worst fucking day of my life.”
She bent her brow in concern. “Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m right here.”
I took a deep breath, looking at her closely, as if this were some elaborate trick, but then I remembered the medicine—and its alleged “side effects.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is all so confusing.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I swallowed. “Don’t go,” I told her.
She smiled. “I can do that.”
I was unsure whether I should believe her or not.
“Come here,” she said, taking my hand and tugging gently.
I laid my head down on her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin against my face. I was starting to wonder if this really was the hallucination I thought it was, but I quickly decided I didn’t care—if this were some extremely vivid dream caused by that medicine and I was doomed to awaken the next morning to an empty bed, I would confront it then.
“You said I’ve been dead for four years,” she continued. “And I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell that you were serious. What did you mean?”
I swallowed. I almost felt a pang of anger at her for how she made me relive the day. “I meant exactly what I said. You’ve been dead for four years.”
“What happened to me?”
I breathed deeply. “Car wreck—a really violent one. But you survived, until they brought you to the emergency room. And you didn’t make it. Lost too much blood.” Tears soaked my cheeks. I did not try to stop them.
“But now I’m back,” she replied.
I nodded. “But now you’re back.” My voice was soaked. I reached up to touch her face to make sure I could still feel her.
I would have done anything and everything to live this moment. Now that I had found out all I had to do was drink some weird medicine, I felt that, because I did not go to the ends of the earth, through heaven and through hell to see her again, I didn’t deserve it.
“What should I do if I wake up tomorrow and you’re gone?” I asked.
Absent-mindedly, she ran her fingers through my hair. “Don’t let it eat you alive.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Too late.”

I had forgotten to set my alarm clock the night before. Can’t say I blame myself.
Even still, music drowned my ears, but not any kind I would use to wake myself up in the morning. It was trashy, pumping. It slowly became clearer, louder. I felt leather sleeves against my skin, the button of a pair of jeans digging into my stomach. I lifted my head from a table, my cheek sticking to the resin coating, my vision hazy.
A glass slammed onto the table and I was thrown into full consciousness. I took in my surroundings—a bar. No, not just any bar—a lesbian bar. Before I could wonder what on earth I was doing here, I heard Talia’s voice.
“How the hell did you fall asleep?” she teased. She was sitting on the table. “It’s, like, so goddamn loud in here.”
I blinked at her. “What day is it?” I asked automatically.
“Sunday,” she answered, giving me a confused look. “We’ve only been here an hour. Do I need to take you home already?”
“No, no, I’m alright,” I told her, but I guess I didn’t look like it, because her eyes showed concern. “But I don’t remember us going out. And on a Sunday? Don’t we have work in the morning?”
She rolled her eyes off to the side for a second, thinking. Then she shrugged and nudged the glass toward me. “We’ll be fine. Come on—drink up, let’s dance.”
I picked up the glass and she grabbed my arm immediately, pulling me onto my feet. I threw back the shot and said, “Well, I certainly didn’t marry you because you’re a good influence.”
“Very funny,” she returned, and dragged me toward the speakers.
The place was packed. On a Sunday?
Pink and green glow from the neon signs above the bar danced with us. A street light reflected the colors from a pride flag hanging in the window onto the floor under our feet. Talia stared down at them, trying to see if she could fit her entire sneaker within each of the very thin strips of color. Small amounts of liquid splashed out of the top of the bottle in her hand as she tried to dodge other dancers’ shadows that ducked in and out of the rainbow lines.
She began to mutter something about almost getting it, but she tripped over her own heel and stumbled forward. I caught her and her beer stained my undershirt. She craned her neck up to meet my gaze, grinning with all her teeth.
“You’re drunk,” I laughed.
“Thanks, you too,” she said.
I smiled at her antics, but then my expression quickly fell. “How are you drunk? You’ve barely had one beer.”
She scoffed as if I had just deeply offended her. “I’ve definitely had more than one beer.”
I stared at her. “I watched you. You’ve had one.”
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.” She grabbed my arm again. “Come here.”
She brought me over to a slightly larger table and shoved her bottle into my hand. Before I could stop her, she hoisted herself up onto the table and began to dance, mostly with her arms. Her movements were slow and whimsical and she was tragically off-beat, but I loved her anyway.
I softened, but then she reached down to tug my hand up toward her and I started. One of my boots made dramatic contact with the surface of the table and I was standing next to her before I could process the event. It had happened so quickly it felt like I had cut through time.
A few of the other patrons whistled and cheered at us. Heat crept up my neck and I wanted off at once, but then she stepped too close to the edge of the table and it buckled under our weight.
The heavy wood and Talia’s body landed with the same thud. I fell in that direction too, my elbow striking her rib cage, and she let out a groan. The bottle flew from my hand when I hit the ground and shattered loudly. Had she not been there to break my fall, the concrete floor might have knocked the wind out of me. I was surprised it hadn’t knocked the wind out of her.
She was laughing hysterically. I smiled along with her, purely by instinct, but my face was boiling red. I pushed myself up onto my elbows.
My hair was a mess. She reached up and tucked the unruly pieces behind my ear. I tried to grab her wrist, but instead she yanked me forward, down onto her kiss.
Everything melted. The heat disappeared from my face. I could breathe. Good god, I miss you.

I opened my eyes to our bedroom. I didn’t feel hungover in the slightest.
The space next to me was empty. Several panicked breaths climbed up my throat, but only one escaped before I swallowed the rest of them. My brow was drenched in sweat.
I shot a glance at the clock on the nightstand. “6:14 A.M.,” it read. A moment later, I heard the front door shut and the lock click. My heart dropped and shattered against my pelvis.
I scrambled out from under the sheets and made a beeline for the door. I hoped I wouldn’t get in trouble for running outside in my underwear.
My fingers made contact with the door knob and reality cut like a film scene. I was dressed and the fluorescent lights above blinded me. I was clutching the knob to a cherry-wood door. The number “523” in black letters stared me down.
I swallowed and reluctantly entered the room to the sound of soft beeping. The strong smell of industrial cleaner hit me fast and hard. Talia laid there in a hospital bed, a spider web of tubes hooked up to her. Her forehead and right eye were wrapped in bandages. Her nose leaked blood.
The beeping began to speed up. A nurse touched my shoulder and I nearly punched her in the face. Before she could speak, the monitor flat-lined.

I woke up screaming. Talia startled awake beside me and placed her hands on my shoulders. I sank into her embrace, not bothering to wonder if she was really there or not. All that mattered was that it felt like she was.
After several minutes, she finally got me to calm down. I pressed my forehead against hers. I ran my thumb across her cheekbone. Tears streamed down my face.
“Goddammit,” I sobbed. “What is happening?”
She twisted the fabric of my pajama shirt between her fingers. “It’s just a nightmare.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s real, I can feel you. I have my senses. It’s not…it’s—”
My gaze drifted past her and I saw the bottle of medicine on the nightstand behind her. My brow furrowed and I got up. I grabbed the bottle and threw it into the garbage bag in the kitchen. I listened to the glass shatter, the liquid stain the bottom of the bag, and watched it leak through the plastic onto the floor.
I returned to the bedroom to find that Talia was gone. The clock told me it was nine o’clock at night.
I heard keys jingle from the other side of the front door and automatically wandered toward the sound. A minute later, the door opened and she walked through it.
“Hi, honey. Sorry I’m so late—some guy came in at the last minute and ordered like ten drinks, and then I had to close,” she said. She kissed my cheek.
Something about her was different.
All other times I had seen her, she seemed murky and faded, her details fuzzy and incorrect. But now, I can see her as clearly as the daylight outside. When I reach forward to take her hand, I recognize textures of her touch that had not been there before. I can make out the waves in her hair. I can count every freckle across the bridge of her nose.
She’s solid. She smells like coffee. Her eyes are vibrant green instead of milky gray. She looks exactly the way she had on the very first day I met her.
“You are real,” I tell her.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “I would hope so,” she jokes.
I play with her fingers. The sun rises in the next thirty seconds. The light coming through the blinds bombards us. She turns to stare at it, her skin glowing with the paleness of the sudden morning.
“It’s Saturday,” she tells me. “And it’s so pretty out. You want to go find a trail or something?
I nod, and she brings me to the door. When she opens it, something about the outdoors behind her seems brighter than it did before, like the sun has more light to give all of a sudden.
Without thinking, I follow her outside. I hear the door shut behind me, and under the white sky, all I see is Talia.