Until that moment, he had been the Skeptic.
It had been the Skeptic’s doubt that prevented him from seeing a medium in the first place, until months of uncertainty and loneliness had driven him to it.
She had been taken from him so early, so unexpectedly, the Skeptic had been unprepared to cope. But now he knew the truth: she *was* still with him, even if he couldn’t see her.
Otherwise, how could the medium have known about their arguments over money? Or about the car accident?
Or about the guilt he suffered for not going with her to the grocery store that fateful day? The Skeptic’s doubts had wavered and finally slipped away when she’d forgiven him, through the medium.
Maybe the Skeptic would have scoffed when the medium didn’t know her middle name. Maybe the Skeptic would have left in dismay when the medium called her a blonde instead of a brunette.
And maybe the Skeptic wouldn’t keep paying the $100 a week it cost to talk to her. But he was no longer the Skeptic. He couldn’t be.
Because the Skeptic had lost her forever.