The Ghost of You and Me

by Kelly Oram

  A long, low whistle from just behind me makes me jump. “Nice,” Spencer says, startling the living daylights out of me. I want to yell at him and he knows it, so he shoots me a huge, smug grin that I wish I could both smack and kiss. “Haunting you is so fun,” he teases. He looks around again and shakes his head. “Especially with these kinds of perks. Man, this is a lot different than the seats we got the last time we came to a game, huh?”

  I snort without thinking, accidentally catching everyone’s attention. Blushing, I scramble for an explanation. “I was just…thinking…this is a bit different from the nosebleed seats we had the last time I came to a game.”

  “No kidding.” Wes nods absently as he continues to gawk at our lush surroundings.

  A small, secretive smile whisks across his face, and when he meets my eyes, I know he’s thinking about the last game we went to together. It was a preseason game last August, about a month before Spencer died. It was one of the last times the three of us ever hung out. Spencer’s parents had gotten the three of us tickets to the game for Spencer’s birthday. Wes and I had played nicer than usual, for Spencer’s sake, and it turned out to be one of the most fun nights the three of us ever had together.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I match his smile, letting him know I’m remembering the same thing he is. Our stare is broken when Charlotte steps between us to go open the sliding glass doors. “Actually, the accommodations may be nice, but the seats really aren’t that far from being nosebleeds themselves. Come check it out.” We all follow her out onto the private balcony. We’re pretty high up and off the home team’s thirty-yard line. She’s wrinkling her nose, but I think we’ve got a fantastic view. Plus the seats are wider than regular seats, they’re cushioned, and they’re covered, so no one will be spilling beer on us from overhead. I’m not complaining.

  I lean against the railing, surprised when Wes moves right next to me. He’s not looking at me, but he’s so close our arms are almost touching. “Spence would have really loved this, wouldn’t he?” he murmurs.

  My chest constricts at the casual way he mentions Spencer. I get the feeling he talks about him often. I wonder if it helps him deal with the loss better. I never bring up Spencer if I can help it, and I nearly have a meltdown every time someone else does. I have a feeling Wes’s way is better. I should start being more open about Spencer now. It would probably be good for me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlotte give Julia a significant look and nod toward the suite. I’m horrified when they both discreetly disappear back inside, leaving Wes and me alone. Spencer notices and shoots me a wink, but thankfully, Wes is clueless. He’s staring out at the stadium in awe. “He’s probably turning over in his grave with envy right now,” he says, with another hint of a smile.

  Spencer joins us at the railing on the other side of Wes. “I do love it, buddy,” he answers, even though Wes can’t hear him. “And I’m only jealous that you get to sit next to my girl tonight.” He attempts to elbow Wes in the arm, ignoring it when his elbow passes right through Wes. “Dude, if you get on the kiss cam, you’d better make a move on my behalf. I’m talking serious lip action, too. Not one of those weak pecks.”

  “Spencer!” I choke on a laugh and then quickly slap my hand over my mouth.

  Wes startles and gapes at me. His eyebrows have nearly hit the ceiling.

  Spencer bursts into laughter and I swear if he weren’t already dead, I’d murder him.

  “I’m sure Spencer’s here with us in spirit,” I say, choosing to completely ignore my outburst. It’s not like I can explain it. “I doubt even death could keep him from VIP box seats to a Jets game.”

  “Darn straight,” Spencer agrees. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

  He suddenly rips his shirt off like a drunken tailgater and starts whipping it around like a helicopter blade. “WOOHOO! Let’s go, Jets! NEW YORK FOREVER, BABY! YEAH!”

  As I do everything in my power not to slap a hand over my face and call my dead boyfriend a dork, Wes decides to let my random outburst go and shakes his head with a chuckle. “If he were here, he’d probably already be half-naked, swinging his shirt above his head.”

  I can’t help it. I burst into laughter so hard tears form in my eyes. “I’m sure he is!” I gasp, clutching my side where it’s starting to ache. “Only it’s probably a good thing we can’t see him, because I bet as a ghost his chest is even more blindingly white than ever.”

  Spencer stops spinning his shirt and frowns at me. “What? Bay! Are you seriously making fun of a dead guy? That’s cold, baby. Ice cold. And come on, look at this. You know you like it.” He proceeds to strike muscle man poses with his pale, scrawny, freckled body. The poor guy could have worked out a million hours a day and would still be a beanpole.

  I laugh again at his ridiculous antics, and Wes’s chuckle becomes a real laugh. “I don’t think it would be possible for that scrawny little shrimp to get any pastier. Even as a ghost,” he says.

  “HEY!” Spencer pouts. “I’m right here, dude. Not cool.” He glances at his bare chest with a frown. “True, but still not cool.”

  I laugh again, and this time I’m laughing at both of them.

  “Sounds like the party’s out here.”

  Wes and I turn toward the unfamiliar voice just as Charlotte and Julia come outside toting a girl maybe a year or two older than us with them. She’s tall and slender with deep ebony skin and sleek hair cut into a stylish bob. “Bailey, Wes,” Charlotte says, pushing the girl toward us. “This is Raquel Jackson.”

  “As in Tyrone Jackson?” Wes asks. He’s got that cute starstruck awe in his voice again. “Class of 2008 wide receiver Hall of Famer?”

  “Guilty,” Raquel admits with a smile. “He’s my grandpa.”

  Wes is speechless as he shakes her hand, and I feel the need to cover for him. “Sorry. He’s usually cooler than this, but he’s football’s biggest fanboy.”

  The jest snaps Wes from his shock and he pulls back from her grasp, immediately reaching to rub his flaming neck. “Sorry.”

  Raquel seems amused by Wes’s inability to play it cool. “It’s okay. I’d be just like that if Bruno Mars suddenly showed up.”

  It’s a great icebreaker, and Wes manages to relax. Once he does, I notice how nervous Charlotte is. “So,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip. “Raquel is…um…” She takes a breath and laces her fingers in Raquel’s. “She’s my girlfriend.”

  Charlotte holds her breath while she waits for our reactions. Neither Wes, Julia, nor I can hide our surprise. Since Charlotte is mainly my friend, I feel it’s my job to break the suffocating silence and be the first to say something. “Oh. Well, then it’s especially nice to meet you, Raquel. Surprising, considering Charlotte never mentioned a significant other,” I add, sending Charlotte a mock glare. “I thought we were riding the single train together, but it looks like I’m back in singletown alone.”

  When I smile and shake her hand, Charlotte lets the breath out of her lungs in a forceful woosh. “Sorry.” She bites her lips again, still looking green with nerves. “I’ve been dying to tell you, it’s just…the being out thing is still really new for me. I’m not even really out; it’s more like I’ve got one foot out. It’s a little…”

  “Terrifying?” I tease, and she lets out another breath.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  I give her my best smile and a warm hug. “Well, you’ll get no judgment from me.”

  “Really?” Her eyes gloss over. “You really don’t mind? Because you’re seriously one of my best friends, and I think I will die if you get weirded out.”

  I know this shouldn’t be a laughing matter, but I giggle and shake my head. “You’re one of my best friends, too. I’m just glad you’re happy and that you felt like you could tell me.” I glance at Wes and Bailey and correct myself. “Us.”

  They both nod in agreement. “It’s cool,” Wes says.

  “Yeah, totally,” Julia adds. “I’ve n
ever had a gay friend before. I think it’s awesome.”

  “I think it’s hot,” Spencer adds.

  Honestly, I’m not sure who’s more embarrassing—my sister or my boyfriend. But at least no one can hear Spencer. Still, I want to crawl under a chair at my little sister’s enthusiasm.

  Raquel laughs like she thinks Julia is adorable—which is a relief—and Charlotte squeezes me in another relieved hug. “Thanks,” she whispers.

  “Nothing to thank me for,” I insist as we all fall into seats. “It actually makes sense.”

  “Really?” Poor Charlotte’s face pales. “I give off the vibe?”

  “No,” I assure her. “Not really. I was just teasing, because it explains why you fend off the guys at school instead of fall at their feet like all the other girls do.”

  Charlotte breathes another sigh of relief but then gives me a wry smile. “Pretty sure I’d do that anyway, even if I wasn’t into girls.”

  I really can’t argue with that, but I can still tease her about one thing. “True. Which is something I love about you. But you did say Wes wasn’t your type, and I mean, come on. If you want to remain only one foot out of the closet, you can’t go around admitting things like that to people. Remember, you said it yourself: he’s everyone’s type.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  As she sighs playfully, a low voice on my other side murmurs, “Everyone’s type?”

  My stomach drops. In my quest to tease Charlotte and make her feel comfortable with the secret she’s just shared, I completely forgot Wes was sitting beside me. “I—uh—”

  I’m sure I look as pale as Spencer with cheeks that match his flaming hair, but I can’t seem to speak or even tear my gaze away from Wes. I can’t decipher the look on his face, either. It’s intense, but I don’t know if it’s a good intense or a bad intense. Is he shocked, angry, startled, embarrassed? What does he want me to say? Does he want me to admit I think he’s hot? I wouldn’t think he’d want that, but then, why would he bring it up? Was he accusing me or flirting with me just now? I can’t tell. He’s completely unreadable.

  Come on, Spencer; help me out here. Instead of haunting me, how about being my guardian angel this one time and getting me out of this situation?

  I let out a startled yelp when Wes’s cell phone rings. He doesn’t move to answer it right away, and my heart nearly stops, thinking he’s going to let the call go to voice mail and demand an answer from me for a question he didn’t technically ask.

  But, because there is a God and He’s not cruel, Wes picks up his call before whoever it is hangs up. I let out a breath and turn to the other girls, looking for moral support. Sadly, I find none. Their grins only deepen my blush.

  “You just got so busted,” Julia teases.

  I glare at her, and Charlotte leans in close, lowering her voice. “Girl, that was some seriously hot tension there. You sure you don’t want to ask that boy to the dance?”

  “I—”

  “No!” Wes gasps, startling us all. “How long?” He jumps to his feet with a curse. “Yeah.” Another curse. He’s pacing now and runs his hand over his head like he’d rip his hair out if it were long enough. “No, I’m coming right now. If she wakes up and I’m not there, tell her I’m on my way.”

  My heart lurches. Is his mom okay?

  His face is pale when he hangs up the phone, and his look of devastation knocks the wind from my lungs. “It’s Rosie,” he whispers.

  I’m relieved it’s not his mother, but it’s not much of a consolation. I know he cares a lot about Rosie. I get to my feet and take his hand in mine. He grips it unconsciously. “Is she…?” I can’t get the full question out.

  With a shake of his head, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. “Soon. Probably before morning.”

  I grab my purse and turn to Charlotte. “I’m sorry. We have to go.”

  She doesn’t ask if everything is okay. She doesn’t have to. It’s obviously not. She doesn’t ask questions, either, which is a great comfort. Wes looks like he’s barely holding himself together. I don’t want him to have to explain—to have to say out loud—that he’s going to lose his friend tonight.

  Charlotte gives me a sad smile and hands me her keys. I blink in surprise. “Go,” she says. “Raquel will get Julia and me home safe. You just take him wherever he needs to go.”

  My eyes prick with the threat of tears, and I give her a great big hug. I don’t know why I’m so affected. It’s not me she’s being considerate of right now; it’s Wes. But I’m so grateful for her kindness I can hardly speak. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

  She shakes her head, repeating my earlier words. “Nothing to thank me for. Just call me when you can.”

  “I will.”

  The drive to the hospital is never-ending. I break the speed limit the whole way, and Wes bounces his leg nonstop. Neither of us speaks a word. When I pull into the parking lot, I’m out of the car and at Wes’s side before either of us realize I intend to go with him. It hits him first as we wait in front of the elevator. “Bailey…” He frowns, but he doesn’t seem upset with me. It’s more like he doesn’t know how to say what he’s thinking. “You don’t have to come with me.”

  Dread washes over me as it occurs to me for the first time that he probably doesn’t want me there. This isn’t my business. We aren’t really friends, and I don’t even know Rosie. I drop his hand like it’s made of molten lava. “Sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll let you…you know…”

  I turn on my heel to make a hasty, humiliating retreat, but before I can get one step, Wes is holding my hand again, preventing my escape. “That’s not what I meant.”

  The doors to the elevator open and shut without Wes stepping inside. Instead, he stares at me, so many emotions clouding his expression it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking. “Do you want me to leave?” I ask.

  My voice is so small I’m surprised he even hears the question.

  His quiet intake of breath is even softer. I don’t hear it so much as see him suck the air into his lungs. An eternity passes as we stand there gazing into each other’s eyes, his hand still gripping mine, when finally he closes his eyes and whispers, “No.”

  He chokes out the answer as if it’s the most painful thing he’s ever admitted to, and though I don’t understand why his wanting me with him hurts him, I feel a startling amount of relief that he isn’t sending me away.

  Without a word, I press the button for the elevator again, and we make our way to Rosie’s room hand in hand. I let him go just before he walks in, knowing how much Rosie likes him and not wanting to hurt her feelings—not that there’s anything going on between Wes and me besides a little moral support between old friends.

  The room is full of strangers—Rosie’s family, I assume—so I quietly stay out of the way along the back wall by the door. Wes, however, rushes to Rosie’s bedside, the sea of people parting to make room for him. He drops down to his knees so that he’s more eye level with Rosie and grabs her hand. She stirs, as if she’d been asleep, and manages a weak smile when she sees Wes.

  It’s only been a couple of days since I last saw her, but Rosie looks so much worse. If I hadn’t known before, seeing her now, I would have no doubt her time is up. She’s so pale she’s nearly translucent, and her eyes and cheeks are sunken in. Her breathing is labored, and every move she makes seems to cause her a great deal of pain.

  “Hey, handsome,” she croaks.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Even speaking sounds like it’s painful for her. But her face is shining exactly the way it had the first time I’d met her. There are stars in her pale eyes as she looks at Wes.

  I feel sorry for her. I don’t want to, because I doubt she’d appreciate it, but I can’t help it. There’s something so beautiful and yet so tragic seeing her feelings. She’s so young, and Wes is probably her first real crush. She’s fallen for him just to lose everything before she ever even gets the chance to
explore it.

  Wes, moving more gently than I’ve ever seen him, runs his fingers across her forehead and behind her ear, as if he’s tucking her hair back. “You’re still here,” he says. His voice is so soft, so full of compassion that even the Wicked Witch of the West would fall for him right now. “When your parents told me you’d collapsed…I was so afraid I wouldn’t get here soon enough.”

  She lifts her hand and takes his. “Of course I’m still here. You think I’d go anywhere without saying good-bye to you?”

  She gives him a crooked smile, but her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. Wes takes a controlled breath and drops a light kiss to her forehead. I’m surprised he doesn’t dispute her words, tell her that she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. But then, maybe they’ve already come to terms with what’s happening and have promised not to sugarcoat things.

  “Wes?”

  When he questions her with his eyes, she hesitates to ask whatever’s on her mind. As pale as she is, she still manages to blush slightly.

  “Rosie, what is it?”

  “I just…” She closes her eyes and turns her head away. “Sorry. It’s stupid.”

  “Nothing is stupid, Rosie. Please talk to me.”

  She turns back to him but can’t lift her eyes to meet his. Several tears fall down her cheeks. “I’m going to die, and I’ve never been kissed.”

  Wes doesn’t hesitate. With one finger, he gently lifts her chin and lowers his mouth to hers. He doesn’t care that her entire family is gathered around them watching. Then again, after a quick glance at the man and woman holding each other on the other side of her bed, quietly sobbing, maybe he knows they don’t mind. Actually, they look grateful. When Wes gives Rosie the soft, innocent kiss she’s so desperate for, her mother can no longer keep her tears quiet. A whimper escapes her, and she turns her face into her husband’s chest. Her entire body trembles as she’s wracked with devastating sobs. Her father simply watches on with a pained smile, and tears flowing freely down his face.