I only see David at night. In hiscolony, hisworld, where Idon’t exist. Where there are no tourists—he’s never mentioned them, and looked mildly baffled when I talked about the visitors or the souvenirs or the bus, like he isn’t sure what I mean but doesn’t want to stop me to find out because he thinks he might not get it.
His isn’t a job. It’s a way of life. It’s a colony on the brink of war, ruled by a king far away. It staggers me.
My heart skips in my chest and suddenly my head feels too light. I can’t think straight, can’t breathe. Can’t even see,nothing but him in front of me. His lips move but I don’t hear what he says because I’ve fallen back to the bed, the one we share but we both wake up in alone. We both disappear in the morning light so maybe we’re both ghosts, caught in different eras, me a ghost in his colonial America and him a ghost in mine.
* * * *
“Nicholas.”
His voice drifts into my sleep, gentle at first, like soft waves breaking over me as I wake.