The Ghost of You and Me

by Kelly Oram

  “I promised Spencer that I’d made my choice and I’d never regretted it, but I got caught up in the moment with you because a part of me had never stopped loving you, too. He was so upset, Wes. Devastated. I thought he was going to break up with me. That’s why he got drunk. That’s why he wouldn’t listen to me when he drove away. That’s why he died. Because I broke his heart.”

  “You weren’t the only one,” Wes mutters.

  I glance his way just in time to watch him collapse onto the picnic bench in a defeated heap. “He came to talk to me before he got drunk,” he explains, that hatred of himself back in his voice. “Before I could apologize—or not, as I had no intention of saying I was sorry about that kiss—he sat me down and told me it was okay. He said he didn’t blame us and that he wasn’t even mad.”

  “He what?” I blink several times in disbelief. How could Spencer not have blamed us, not have hated us for what we’d done?

  Wes rolls his eyes. “You know how he was. He knew how much I struggled with your relationship, and he knew how sad you were over losing my friendship. He said he knew we both loved him and that we hadn’t hurt him on purpose, and that as long as it never happened again, he’d forgive us.”

  Wes scoffs with so much scorn I rear back in surprise.

  “It was such a typical Spencer response,” he says. “So understanding and loyal and…perfect. Like he was.”

  I agree that that was exactly how Spencer was, and hearing Wes explain Spencer’s response, I’m not surprised he would be able to forgive us so easily. Spencer was that kind of person. The best kind. Perfect, like Wes said. But I don’t understand Wes’s bitterness.

  He reads the question in my eyes and sighs. “His response pissed me off. I was drunk, and I’d been harboring a lot of anger for a long time. When I made a move on his girlfriend and he turned around acting like freaking Jesus, I lost it.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would that make you so angry?”

  “Because I wanted him to get mad. I needed him to. I was looking for a fight. After that kiss, I knew I couldn’t stand by and watch the two of you together anymore. I told him I was done being his friend and to have a nice life. I told him I hated him because he had everything I wanted—his family, his girlfriend. He was the golden child with the perfect life, while mine was falling apart. His parents doted on him. My dad barely knew I existed. He’d cheated on my mom. They were in the middle of a nasty divorce when she got diagnosed. The jerk decided not to leave us because it would be cheaper than getting divorced, since he’d have to pay her medical bills either way, and she was going to die soon anyway.”

  My mouth falls open. Mr. Delaney hadn’t been around a lot when we played together as kids—the guy worked even more than my dad—but he’d always seemed like a nice enough guy. I couldn’t imagine him being so heartless. But from the disgust in Wes’s voice, I don’t doubt it’s true.

  “Spencer was a freaking nerd,” Wes continues. “He should have been picked on, but instead he was dating the most popular girl in school, so everyone loved him. I scored both touchdowns at the homecoming game that night and stopped the other team from taking the lead when I caught that interception. But he kicked one field goal, and he was the hero. He got straight A’s without having to study. I worked my butt off and got B’s just because my teachers thought I was a problem child. The only thing I ever had over Spencer was my looks, and the one girl I wanted never cared about that.”

  “Wait, Wes. You can’t just—”

  “No.” Wes holds up a hand to stop me. “Look, I know it was wrong. I know I was just crazy jealous and taking my anger and frustration from my personal problems out on Spencer. I get it now, but at the time, I was just so messed up. I told him I hated him. I told him I kissed you because I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to hate me the way I hated him because I was sick of feeling guilty. That’s why he got drunk that night. It wasn’t you. You did the right thing not driving, and you tried to stop him from getting in the car. I saw you try to stop him. He pushed you to the ground. I could have stopped him. I was much bigger than him. I could have pulled him out of the car and taken his keys. I let him drive off because you guys had fought, and I wanted to be there for you.” He scoffs in disgust again and shakes his head. “He was my best friend, and I wanted to try and take his girlfriend.”

  When he finally falls silent, I’m nauseated from his confession. I don’t know how to feel about it. I’m angry, but I also feel so bad for him. I hate him and I pity him and I love him all at the same time. And then there’s Spencer. This conversation has brought that night back to the very front of my brain. It’s ripped open the scars, and I feel like I’m breaking all over again.

  “Why were you so cruel to me, then?” I ask, though I’m not sure I can hear any more explanations. “After he died…it was like you blamed me. You’d always hated me, but after that, when you looked at me…there was new loathing that couldn’t be faked. If you wanted me so badly, why did you hate me so much after he died? I was broken. I could have used a friend who understood what I was going through.”

  Wes clenches his jaw and glares so hard at the ground I assume I’ve hit too raw a nerve, and he’s not going to answer. But then he shakes his head and says, “I couldn’t stand to be around you. I held you while the paramedics worked on him that night, and when he died right in front of us, you shattered in my arms. I felt you break. I blamed myself for his accident and for everything you were going through.” He closes his eyes and cringes as if in pain. “And, even worse, I couldn’t stand to look at you because every time I did I felt relieved.”

  “What?” I blanch.

  Wes’s shoulders slump, and he kicks the ground with his shoe. “I hated that he was gone, and I’d have given anything to have him back—to go back in time and redo that entire night—but at the same time I felt like I’d been given a lucky break.” He looks at me, eyes filled with regret and shame. “He was out of the way now, and I could finally have a chance with you.”

  My stomach rolls and I stumble backward, as if the shock of his twisted confession has literally knocked me over. I really am going to be sick. He can’t mean that. He can’t possibly think that I would have—

  “I hated myself for even thinking those thoughts,” Wes whispers. “I never would have acted on them. I cut myself out of your life completely after that because I wouldn’t let myself have you. I didn’t deserve you. And I couldn’t kill myself after that, either. Death was too good for me. Living was my punishment. Spencer—the greatest guy that ever existed—was dead because of me, and I wanted to move in on his girl after he died. I was a total jerk—am a total jerk—because even now, admitting all of this, I still want you. I want you to tell me that I’m forgiven and that I have a chance with you. I want that so badly I’m going out of my mind.”

  I go pale again and start to tremble when he looks at me with sad eyes void of any hope. “I love you, Bay.” He blows out a heavy breath and lifts his hands as if he’s completely lost. “I always have. Since the day you moved here. And you choosing Spencer and loving him so much when you could have dated anyone only made me love you even more. I have a hard time being around you because I don’t trust myself not to kiss you again. And I don’t deserve to kiss you. I don’t deserve to be in your life at all. I ruined all three of our lives that night. I deserve to suffer for it.”

  I can’t take anymore. Can’t listen to another word. This is too much to deal with. It’s too much to think about, much less try and make sense of. Panic claws up my throat, and a flood of tears bursts from my eyes. When I break into sobs, I whirl around and run for my car. Wes doesn’t come after me. He doesn’t even call out to me. When I speed away from the hospital a few minutes later, a blubbering, hysterical mess, Wes is still sitting at that picnic table, staring at the ground as if he wishes it would swallow him up and put him out of his misery.

  I race up to my room, so distraught that I stumble up the steps several times. As I pass th
e second floor, Julia’s and Charlotte’s voices call out to me from Julia’s bedroom. Slamming my bedroom door shut, I fall to my bed, burying my face in my pillow. I clutch my stuffed bear to my chest and my sobs hit all over again.

  It only takes a second for my bedroom door to open. I don’t acknowledge Julia and Charlotte as they join me on my bed. Their presence, for some reason, only makes me cry harder.

  Charlotte sits near my feet with her back against the wall, but Julia lies down next to me and curls herself around me. Her arms trap me in a tight hug, and she buries her face in the back of my neck. After a minute, Charlotte’s hand clasps onto my leg in an I’m-here-for-you-too gesture.

  Neither girl speaks until my crying calms down. When I’m no longer openly sobbing and am more weeping softly from pure exhaustion, Julia starts stroking my hair the same way our mom has always done.

  I roll over to face her, and she gives me a soft, encouraging smile as she continues to caress my hair, pushing strands away from my forehead and tucking them behind my ear. The simple affection is more than soothing; it feels like it’s healing my battered soul. It’s as if Julia, just being here for me while I hurt, is somehow mending the gaping hole in my heart.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply and rest my forehead against hers. She gives me another good five minutes before she gently whispers, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I’ve never been one to open up to people about anything, but right now my sister feels safe. I open my eyes, see her loving ones staring back at me, and then look over my shoulder at Charlotte. She’s still sitting in the same spot, still resting her hand on my leg, supporting and comforting me with her presence and her physical touch. She smiles at me in the same gentle, sad, yet loving way Julia did, and I know I can trust her.

  I sit up and scoot next to her, leaning against the wall and pulling my knees up to my chest. Julia joins us on the other side of me, and suddenly I just start talking. I spill everything. I start with that dreadful night last year that ended Spencer’s life and left both Wes and me damaged beyond repair. Then I explain to them how Spencer showed up. I don’t even hesitate. I don’t worry that they’ll think I’m crazy. Even if they don’t believe me, I know they won’t judge me. They care about me, love me, and I need to get this secret off my chest. I don’t want to deal with all of this by myself anymore.

  I tell them everything. I talk and talk and talk. It’s the most therapeutic thing I’ve ever done in my life. And they listen. They don’t interrupt, don’t ask questions, don’t call me crazy. They just let me get it all out, and then we sit in silence again. Charlotte is the first to break it. There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “I knew he was in love with you.”

  I choke on a startled laugh. “After everything I just told you, that’s what you focus on?”

  Julia and Charlotte both giggle. “It seems the most relevant at the moment,” Charlotte says. “What you told us about Spencer is a little fantastical, but it sounds to me like he’s only here to help, and that he won’t be here much longer. So, whether he’s really appearing to you from the other side or he’s a figment of your imagination that you’ve created to help you get through this, either way, he’s all right in my book. The rest of the stuff you told us is in the past. There’s nothing to be done about everything that happened; you can only do something about the here and now, and girl, that’s Wes.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “But can I forgive him? Can I love him after he admitted being relieved Spencer was gone because it meant he finally had a chance with me?”

  Julia grabs my hand and quietly asks, “Do you blame him for Spencer’s death now that you know everything?”

  My response is automatic and certain. “Of course not.”

  “Do you think he’s a horrible person?”

  I shake my head. Wes is the furthest thing from a horrible person there ever was. He’s kind, selfless, and caring. Watching him with Rosie and all the other patients in the hospital was proof of the type of man he’s becoming. He wants to become a doctor. He wants to try to save lives, not destroy them.

  “We all have errant thoughts, Bailey,” Charlotte says, leaning her head on my shoulder. “We can’t help our feelings or our gut instincts. You said yourself he was sickened by those thoughts.”

  “He was,” I murmur. “You should have seen the look on his face. He was disgusted with himself. I don’t think there’s a person in the world who hates themselves more than Wes.”

  “Well, then,” Julia says, as if this is an open and shut case and the answer is obvious. I glance at her, and she offers another small smile. “I don’t think there’s anything to forgive. I think Wes was going through a very difficult time in his life, and he was coping the only way he knew how.” She looks at me then, with a serious gaze. “You know a little something about that, too, don’t you?”

  After the last year of withdrawing from the world and hurting my friends and family in the process, yeah, I’d say I definitely understand. I’m not perfect any more than Wes, and I’m as much to blame for everything that happened that night as he is. I can’t be angry with him for any of that.

  And Charlotte’s right about not being able to help your feelings. I was completely in love with Spencer. I was the happiest girl on the planet. And yet, when Wes kissed me, I couldn’t help the feelings it sparked in me. I hadn’t wanted those feelings, but I’d definitely felt them. What I’d done was actually worse than the feelings Wes had admitted to feeling after Spencer died, because I’d acted on my feelings. I’d kissed him back. I’d lost myself in the moment and enjoyed every second of that kiss, until I heard Spencer’s sharp intake of breath and reality caught up to me. Wes may have felt happy to finally have a chance with me because Spencer was out of the way, but he’d done all he could not to follow through on those feelings.

  Julia is right, too. There’s nothing for me to forgive where Wes is concerned. I’m not mad at him. I’m not even upset by his feelings anymore. They were natural. He couldn’t help them.

  I sigh as another weight is lifted off my chest. Both Charlotte and Julia recognize that I’ve found acceptance. “So what are you going to do?” Julia asks.

  I shake my head, having no clue where to go from here.

  Charlotte startles me with her next question. “Do you love him?”

  “I…” My heart falters, missing a beat and then speeding up as if trying to make up the difference. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always loved him, in a way. But it’s not like Spencer.”

  Charlotte smiles patiently. “Of course it’s not like Spencer. Wes isn’t Spencer. Love is as individual as snowflakes. It’s all snow, but when you separate it and break it down, it’s unique. People are different, and you’re going to feel differently about each and every one. You’re going to love them differently. But just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s not love. It doesn’t make it not real.”

  I like her analogy and wonder if she’s so insightful because she’s struggled with her own feelings. She must have had a hard time recognizing that she was different from most other girls. I can imagine she had to really sort through a lot of confusion and decide that just because she loved differently, it didn’t make her feelings any less real than straight people. “You’re right,” I whisper, feeling stronger simply by seeing her courage. “I do love him. It’s not the same as I love Spencer, but it’s love.”

  Charlotte throws her arm over my shoulder and gives me a gentle hug. “Then I guess it’s settled.”

  “What is?”

  “I’m going to have to come all the way out of the closet.”

  “What?”

  Charlotte laughs at my confusion. “Yuri asked Julia to homecoming, and now you’re going to have to go with Wes, and I am not going stag alone. So it looks like Raquel is going to have to buy a dress before Saturday.” She grins. “Not that she’s going to complain about that.”

  “Wait.” My heart is doing that erratic beating thing ag
ain. I can feel my panic returning. “I don’t know about that. I mean, admitting how I feel about Wes is one thing, but I don’t think I can do anything about it.”

  “What? Why?” Julia frowns, as if I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever met. The look makes me laugh—this is the side of my little sister I’m used to.

  “It’s just complicated.” More like terrifying. “Wes and I…we have too much history. Too much baggage. You didn’t see him the other day. It’s like it hurts him to be near me. I don’t know that we could ever put everything behind us enough to have a functional relationship.”

  “You won’t know if you don’t try,” Charlotte insists.

  I shake my head emphatically, still fighting the surge of fear that a relationship with Wes instills in me. “I don’t think so, you guys. I’m just not ready for that.”

  They both sigh. “Well, I’ll make Raquel buy a dress anyway. Just in case. And considering she only has a couple of days, I should probably go make that call now.” She gives me another hug. “You okay? I won’t go if you still need the company.”

  My heart softens even more toward this amazing girl and her rare friendship. How I got so lucky to find her and fix things with my sister, I’ll never know. Maybe God really is looking out for me. He did send me Spencer, after all. “I’m okay now,” I promise, giving her a big hug. I squeeze Julia next. “Thank you, guys, for listening and not thinking I’m completely crazy.”

  “Oh, no, we think you’re totally nuts,” Julia teases. “But we love you anyway.”

  Laughing, I push her away, nearly knocking her off the bed. She gets up with a stretch and pats her stomach. “I’ll walk you out, Charlotte. After all that girl talk, I’m in need of some chocolate, and I think there’s still a few chocolate chip cookies left from the batch Mom made yesterday.” She grins at me. “You want to ruin your dinner with me?”

  I shake my head with a laugh. After everything, I’m more ready for a little peace and quiet. “Actually, I think I want to play for a while.” I pick up my violin case. “I’ve neglected this poor thing too much over the last year.”