Well, I made a choice. I was pretty sure I had. I was awake, at least part of me was. There was no grogginess, which led me to assume I wasn’t the kind of awake that was normal in the afternoon when I got up from sleep after work. There was no pain, which I doubted would be normal after hours of surgery. I saw no rainbow bridge and I sensed no Patrick, though. “So, where the hell am I?” I whispered. “Yikes! Not there, I hope.”

The feeling of being responsible for Patrick being hurt, gone in my vision of Jefferson’s wedding, had returned full-force, so maybe I was in hell, and maybe I deserved to be. Patrick loved me still in Jefferson’s Heaven and in the one we’d shared in the meadow and on the boat. On Earth, how could he or anyone who adored him ever forgive me? I knew, sure as shit, I would never forgive myself.

“Hmm.”

The ER waiting room came into focus. I was there -- sort of -- not standing in the corner or sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs, but there. I saw a bunch of people of varying ages, a big group of redheads, with some blonds and brunettes scattered among them in different ethnicities. Patrick’s family, I recognized. There were at least twenty-five of them. Across the room, sat Shelby and Rip, all by themselves.

“Am I a ghost?” No one looked when I spoke, so I shouted. “Am I a ghost?”

Still, no response, not even a glance.

I made my way over to my sister and Rip, got right in his face, and yelled, “Boo!”

Not even a flinch.

“Boo!”

I jumped, though, when Jefferson did it to me.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Where are you?”

“You can’t see me?”

“No.” I was trying.

“Well, I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re here, wherever here is.”

“My best guess is you’re now stuck between realms,” he said.

“That’s not good.”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Your indecisiveness most likely has led to it.”

“Shame on me.”

“Being stuck between what you want and what you feel. Back and forth ... back and forth you go. You want to be loved but don’t feel worthy. You know logically you’re not responsible for Tom’s actions, but on the other hand, you wish to be punished for them. Because of this, you’ve put yourself in some form of purgatory.”

“Maybe it’s fitting,” I said. “I don’t deserve to be alive if Patrick’s not. On the other hand, the perfection and wonder of Heaven, being there and enjoying an eternity of love with him? I hardly deserve that, either. The worst of both worlds is definitely fitting.”

“Goose ...”

“It’s true,” I said.

“It’s nonsense.”

“This according to Jefferson. Who are you, all of a sudden, Jiminy Cricket, trying to be my conscience all up in here?” I asked him.

“I’m trying to help you see common sense. If you can’t, you might never move forward.”