She whirls around in front of me, looking so incandescent, I find myself backing away.
“I’m sorry,” I stutter, clutching my phone to my ear as camouflage. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I didn’t want to admit Josh and I broke up. But I’m not a backstabber! I didn’t mean for Ed and me to kiss, I didn’t mean any of this, I didn’t plan it-”
“I don’t care whether you planned it or not!” she shrieks. “Keep your hands off him!”
“Sadie, I’m really sorry-”
“I found him! I danced with him! He’s mine! Mine! Mine!”
She’s so self-righteous, and so livid, and she’s not even listening to what I’m saying. And suddenly, from underneath all my guilt I feel a surge of resentment.
“How can he be yours?” I hear myself yelling. “You’re dead! Haven’t you realized that yet? You’re dead! He doesn’t even know you exist!”
“Yes, he does!” She brings her face close to mine, a murderous look in her eye. “He can hear me!”
“So what? It’s not like he’ll ever meet you, is it? You’re a ghost! A ghost !” All my misery at the situation is bursting out in a vent of anger. “Talk about self-deluded! Talk about not facing up to the truth, Sadie! You keep telling me to move on! How about you move on?”
Even as I’m uttering the words, I’m realizing how they sound, how they might be misinterpreted. And I’m wishing beyond anything I could take them back. A tremor of shock passes across Sadie’s face. She looks as though I’ve slapped her.
She can’t think I meant…
Oh God.
“Sadie, I wasn’t… I didn’t…” My words are all jumbled up in my mouth. I don’t even quite know what I want to say. Sadie looks hollow-eyed. She’s gazing out at the river as though she’s not even aware of me anymore.
“You’re right,” she says at last. All the spirit has gone out of her voice. “You’re right. I’m dead.”
“No you’re not!” I say in distress. “I mean… OK, maybe you are. But-”
“I’m dead. It’s over. You don’t want me. He doesn’t want me. What’s the point?”
She starts walking away toward Waterloo Bridge and disappears from view. Racked with guilt, I hurry after her and up the steps. She’s already halfway along the bridge, and I run to catch up. She’s standing still, staring out toward St. Paul’s Cathedral, a willowy figure in the grayness, and gives no sign of realizing I’m there.
“Sadie, it’s not over!” My voice is almost lost in the wind. “Nothing’s over! I wasn’t thinking, I was just angry at you, I was talking rubbish-”
“No. You’re right.” She speaks fast, without turning her head. “I’m as self-deceiving as you. I thought I could have some last fun in this world. I thought I could have a friendship. Make a difference.”
“You have made a difference!” I say in dismay. “Please don’t talk like this. Look, come home, we’ll put on some music, have a good time-”
“Don’t patronize me!” She turns her head and I can see her trembling. “I know what you really think. You don’t care about me, no one cares about me, some meaningless old person-”
“Sadie, stop it, that’s not true-”
“I heard you at the funeral!” Sadie suddenly erupts passionately, and I feel a cold horror. She heard us?
“I heard you at the funeral,” she repeats, regaining her dignity. “I heard all the family talking together. Nobody wanted to be there. Nobody mourned me. I was just a ‘million-year-old nobody.’”
I feel queasy with shame as I remember what everyone said. We were so callous and horrible. All of us.
Sadie’s chin is taut and she’s gazing fixedly over my shoulder. “Your cousin put it exactly right. I didn’t achieve anything in my life, I left no mark, I wasn’t anything special. I don’t know why I bothered living, really!” She gives a brittle laugh.
“Sadie… please don’t.” I swallow.
“I didn’t have love,” she continues, inexorably, “or a career. I didn’t leave behind children or achievements or anything to speak of. The only man I ever loved… forgot about me.” There’s a sudden shake in her voice. “I lived for one hundred and five years, but I didn’t leave a trace. Not one. I didn’t mean anything to anybody. And I still don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Of course you do,” I say desperately. “Sadie, please-”