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It was two years after he was killed in the accident. The trial was over. The jury had found him not guilty. The charges were thrown out. The DA dropped the charges. It wasn't like I was expecting to hear a knock at the door. I had discovered what he was hiding from me two years ago, but they didn't believe me or even listen to me. They never took my story seriously. They thought I was making it up because I did some delusional things like believing in magic and the paranormal.

'At least he didn't do what you thought he was planning to do,' my mother had said with a shake of her head.

"Mom, you know he couldn't hurt me. He would have hurt you too," I begged.

"I know. He just wouldn't have hurt me. Those were my exact words to the police. He would have protected me," she said.

"What? Mom, I don't understand. You were the one who took me to him. You didn't know he could control us. You've always believed in his love," I'd pleaded with her.

"That's what everyone says," she replied.

She didn't believe me, but her own words proved to be the greatest lie she had ever told me.

As I continued to honestly document my experiences with him, I found out that the police did get the letter to him. He told them to go away. He never read the letter. He told them to leave him alone. Did it matter that he never read it? Of course, he was nice enough to let me know that he wasn't interested and that I was crazy if I thought anything else was going on. He said it was a different time. It was different for me and the supposed confession was a cruel joke.

"Stop it," he said.

I heard his voice but couldn't see him. It was the first time I heard him, but I wasn't frightened. I had a feeling he was close. Maybe he was sending the police off so he could get closer. I wasn't sure of anything.

"Stop what?" I asked.

"I heard you before you wrote it. You shouldn't be cursing me with your husband in the picture. That isn't what you saw me doing," he said with a frown.

He wasn't the angry ghost. He was still the happy guy that I saw through my eyes.

"Did you read the paper?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

I had written about what had happened to him. He couldn't figure out who had written it. He couldn't see that it was me. The man was my husband and we were together during the whole time.

"I know that you did it. I know that you wrote all of this," he said. "I didn't do it. I loved you. I adored you. I cried for you at the funeral. I cried for weeks. I even called off my wedding. I mourned your loss in my own way."

"You didn't have to lie," I replied.

I didn't have any feelings for him, but I did feel sorry for myself because he was right. He loved me and I really did love him. Even with all of his shortcomings, he deserved better.

"It doesn't matter if I moved on. It doesn't matter if I had stopped crying. It doesn't matter if I'd dug myself out of the hole, you still lied to me," I said.

"You gave me a book. Was it telling the truth?" he snapped. "I never saw you do anything. I heard your stories. I believed you. You're crazy."

"I'm not crazy."

"Yes, you are," he said.

I had dumped my boyfriend's ashes in the property of a dear friend. I thought it was just right. I did it because I had thought it was true love. I was stupid.

"I love him. I truly loved him," I said.

"I never left you. I loved you so much," he said.

"You were never there," I replied.

"I was here sitting next to you," he snapped.

"But not the man I saw," I said.

"I'm real. I was here," he said.

That was the first time I told him about magic. It was why I told him. I didn't want him to leave me, but I wanted to be sure he would stay. I was desperate to find out that he was really okay, to find out that he really was my husband.

"How did you end up here?" I asked. "How did you end up in a car accident with me?"

"I don't know," he replied. "The car hit the tree. I was unconscious. It was the other woman's fault. She did it on purpose."

He didn't know how some accident had happened. I wondered if he was a ghost or if there was a possibility that he was a fake.

"It wasn't like that. I was driving the car," he said. "I know what you've written. I have read your story many times."

We talked about the trials. He seemed more of a ghost than before. I wondered if the timing of the accident was a message. I wondered if it was supposed to mean something.

"It was a con," he said. "The police told me that she faked the reports. They found no evidence of my death. That's why they let me go, right?"

I wanted to shake my head and deny it all, but I really had nothing. His story didn't make sense, but my story didn't either. We were in love. Why should I be the one to not believe that something happened that was bigger than both of us? It was possibly magic.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I never did it on purpose. She was angry at me for doing what we originally wanted," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"It was just a test. We wanted the life insurance because I had a good job," he said.

"Then why didn't you talk to me before?" I asked.

"I didn't want you to leave me," he said.

I looked him all over. I looked at his face. I saw a photo of him that my mother had given to me. I wondered if I could go there and stare at the spot on the wall where I felt him standing. I wondered if I could actually do it.

"I have to go," he said.

"You're leaving," I said.

I missed him. I had cried so much over him that I thought there was no way I could miss him any more. He was physical for once. He was actually standing in front of me. It was almost enough for me to forget that I had written his story. I didn't want to lose him.

"I'll be back. I promise," he said.

"Why do you keep disappearing?" I asked.

"I have to," he replied.

As he walked out of the house, he left me with one more truth. He didn't leave me because he wasn't mine anymore. He didn't leave because he didn't love me.

Those visions have haunted me since we did the therapy. It was a window of time that I had seen him from the point of view of the ghost. It was the only way I could accept the fact that he wasn't coming back. I just needed him to stay or I needed a reason to go back to my life. Those visions haunted me as I went through the motions of life without him. They haunted me as I talked to my life insurance agent about having a back-up plan to let someone else take over. They haunted me as I shouted at my mother when she found the letter. They haunted me as I told my father about him again and again. They haunted me when I heard the news that the police had been at his father's house for no reason. They haunted me when I stood in the cemetery and remembered him the way he was before.

"I love you. I will always love you," he said as he smiled at me.

"I love you so much, do you know that? I really do," I replied.

"I know. I love you too," he said.

My wedding dress was beautiful. He had said before that he loved the dress on me, but I knew that he was only seeing what he wanted to see. I didn't want to be a second choice. I didn't want to be one of many women that had come before him. I didn't want to be any of them.

"Will I see you later?" I asked.

"I'm not sure about that. It all depends on what my next assignment is," he said with a frown.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

It wasn't the first time we had discussed it. Even in therapy we had discussed it.

"I mean that I don't know," he said.

"You can't just pull me back here and then change your mind again," I pouted.

He chuckled and kissed me. He wanted me no matter what, but I wanted him too.

"I love you so much," he said.

I didn't smile for him. I thought it was a waste of time. He wasn't real. Even if he was real, it wouldn't be the same as the real thing. I didn't even want to waste my time.

He sat down next to me on the couch. We spent the rest of the evening laughing. I meant to leave it there, but I talked myself into staying. I didn't want it to end. I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to be with him for just a little longer, but I couldn't stand it. I didn't want it to be over. I wanted everything about it to be right.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I said.

I knew that I wouldn't be seeing him. The magic couldn't be a trick. I knew that he wouldn't be waiting for me. The real thing would always be better, but I didn't want him to know that I wanted to be there when he came back. I didn't want him to know that it mattered so much to me.

I was mad at him, but even though I wanted to be angry, I just felt sad. I was disappointed and I couldn't even tell him why. I was sad that he had joked in the first place. I wanted him to ask me for a reason to stay. I wanted him to ask me to marry him again. I wanted him to want to be with me when we were old. I wanted some premonition of the future that I wanted to share with him.

"You're going to be late for your flight," I said when I finally admitted it.

"That's okay. I'll get there in time," he replied.

"So, you're really going to go and you're not even going to say goodbye?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll see you later," he said.

"You don't want to talk about this?" I asked.

"Honey, I have to. It's a job. If I hadn't come back, I would have thought that I wasn't going to get the job," he said.

"Why wouldn't you be able to find another job?" I asked.

"Because this is the only one that pays enough to take care of both of us," he said.

"So, you're saying that you'll come back when you're done? You're going to come back to me?" I asked.

"We'll see. I don't know. I just have to do this," he replied.

It was a lonely life that I was living. He wasn't even in the room. If you asked me to sit at a table, it wouldn't be him. If I walked into a room, it wouldn't be him. He was a ghost, and I was the only one who was there.

"I love you, Tom," I said.

"I love you too, Lisa," he replied.

It was nearing the moment and he still wasn't there. He was gone. The ride was too short. It was too quiet. I couldn't stop thinking about how he was never there.

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