Ghost Heart

by John Palisano

  His skin?

  It was different. Like it was glowing. Wait. Maybe not glowing. Kind of clear. See-through, but not all the way. I couldn’t see his muscles or his bones, but his flesh appeared to have a translucent depth. It reminded me of the skin you see on fetuses while they’re still in the womb—like you see in those strange intra-utero photographs—only Damian was not inside his mother’s belly. He stood right in front of me, shouting something I couldn’t comprehend. He shoved me. I tried to stay up. He shoved again and again. He hit me in the shoulder. A punch, I think. It didn’t seem real, like I was playing a videogame and my ship was taking hits.

  I tried to shout “Fuck you” at him, but who knows what my rubber face actually said.

  My insurgence was met with two swift punches to the face.

  Even those? I didn’t feel.

  I couldn’t hold on.

  I tried.

  The Universe spun so fast.

  My eyes raced around. Wasn’t anyone seeing this? Wouldn’t anyone step in and stop them? Didn’t anyone know they were murderers and had killed Mikey? They were going to kill me too, I was sure. The only witness.

  Vanessa was gone. Everyone in the crowd seemed to have their backs to us.

  Above, watching from the balcony, I swear I spotted Mikey looking down. He looked frail and sickly. His eyes were dark—sunk deep in his head, rimmed with black. His lips were dark, and his skin had the same translucent warmth as Damian’s. He ducked behind someone, and then I couldn’t see him. If it’d even been him, or just the edible manipulating me.

  When I looked back down, Damian was saying something. Sound was a blur. I had no idea what he said, but saw how angry he seemed.

  He recoiled, and his fist came at me like a cannonball.

  My left cheek took the blow.

  I spun around, reaching up to the hit.

  The action, coupled with the blow, threw me off balance big time.

  My head went missing.

  I tried to stop myself from falling.

  No dice.

  I dropped. Guts tight. Hands and knees.

  Pain came.

  Blinding.

  Agony.

  The Universe went dark.

  Chapter Nine

  “You know you’re supposed to report who did this to you,” Lucy said. “You can’t keep this a secret.”

  I stretched out on her bed. “I have the worst headache of all time.”

  “You probably have a concussion,” she said. “You know that? And I don’t care if you were high as a kite. It doesn’t matter. That doesn’t make you immune.”

  “I saw Mikey in the crowd, for God’s sake,” I said. “That’s how freakin’ stoned I was.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of guys that look like that around here,” she said. “We can forgive you.” She sat on the edge of the bed, nursing a hot tea. I’d passed on my own cup. Not a tea person so much. What can I say?

  “What do you think I should do? Put in another police report?” I asked.

  “Absolutely,” she said.

  “They’ll come after me again.”

  “They already have. And they’ll keep coming after you until you don’t come back,” she said. “Look what they did to poor Mikey. It’s not like they have any scruples about any of this, do they?”

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

  My phone buzzed. It was a text message.

  They found Jimmy’s body last night. I can’t believe this is real.

  It was from Mary.

  “Oh my God,” I said to Lucy. “Mary knows Jimmy’s dead.” My throat tightened, and my body went cold. It was still sinking in with me.

  “Jimmy? From the shop?” she asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He never went home after work the other day. This is unbelievable. Shit.” I put the phone down. My mind raced. Jimmy had never been a big partier. He was happy—happy as all hell. Why would he be dead? Didn’t make sense. I shook my head. “God,” I said. It was all I could muster.

  Lucy immediately picked up on my shock. “Nothing’s right. See what I’m saying? There’s some strange stuff going on. I’m telling you that you should go to the cops and let them know. And go see your doctor ASAP. I’m not kidding. I’ll go with you if you want.” She sipped her tea, making a loud, slurping noise. Still too hot for her, I figured.

  “I’ve got to get in to work,” I said. “Uncle Dave’s going to need me more than ever. We’re going to have to figure this out. Jimmy’s been with us longer than I’ve been with us, officially. I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  “Something bad’s happening. Of course you have to deal,” Lucy said. “But I’ll drive you to the doctor’s first. Then to work after we make sure you’re not victim number three, okay? People die in threes, you know.”

  “That’s only for celebrities,” I said. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been beat up before.”

  “Fine? Your eye looks like a baby eggplant. I’m not going to let you skip out on the doctor. I care about you too much, Rick.” She was done with her tea and put the cup on her side table. When she leaned over me, I felt her arms graze across my chest and smelled her light perfume.

  When she made her way back to sitting, I’m pretty sure she caught my vibe, because she smiled, and I met her smile. “Seriously,” she said. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Okay, okay. If you insist,” I said. The thought wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

  “I do,” she said. “And hopefully now that you see what Vanessa is all about, sleeping with the enemy and all, you’ll finally give up on her.”

  I nodded. “I was done before that,” I said. “This just underlines it, you know? She’s horrible.”

  “She’s a traitor,” Lucy said. “She’s got no loyalty, except to whatever she wants in the moment. Classic narcissistic personality.”

  “Huh. What would that make me?” I asked.

  She put a hand under her chin. “I don’t know,” she said. “A lover, not a fighter?”

  We both laughed.

  “I need to write back to Mary,” I said, and did.

  I can’t believe this is happening. I’ll call you in a little bit. You’re not alone in this.

  * * * * *

  Lucy did just as she said she would. We dropped in on my family practitioner, Dr. Verne, and he took me right in. He was angry I hadn’t gone to the ER, but I was completely honest with him. Well, not completely. I told him someone slipped something in my drink, and that I was attacked, and that I was afraid I’d be arrested for having drugs in my system. “If someone dosed you,” he said, “you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a victim. Twofold. You need to report this.” He examined me, rather quickly, and dressed my wounds with his industrial gauze and tape. He checked my system and checked my vitals. “Pretty sure you’ve got another concussion there. I’m ordering an MRI for your head, just to make sure there’s nothing serious going on. Internal bleeding. Intracranial damage. That sort of thing. Otherwise, you need two weeks of rest and tons of TLC. Is that your girlfriend out there?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  He caught my grin. “Whatever she is? See if she, or someone else, can look after you until you’re better.” He gave my shoulder a light, man-to-man punch. “Stay relaxed, okay?” He turned around and wrote notes in my chart.

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  “And Rick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m happy to file a report on my end, too,” he said. “In fact, I’m legally obligated to do so. You know that, right?”

  “So much for patient-doctor confidentiality,” I said, joking.

  “There are limits. Especially with violent crimes,” he said. “Guys like this need to be stopped.”

  “O
kay,” I said. “Does that mean I’ll need to file a report, too?”

  “You won’t have to file the initial report, no,” Dr. Verne said. “However, the police will contact you and will likely have questions.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “I really appreciate you taking the time for me, last minute and all.”

  “Of course,” he said. “You’ve been coming to me since before you were born. I’m not going to turn you away. I’m just glad we were here. Check in with me if you aren’t feeling and looking better in a few days.”

  * * * * *

  Out in the lobby, as I was settling up, I filled Lucy in on the prognosis. I left out the part where Dr. Verne asked if she was my girlfriend. “That’s great,” she said. “You can stay over, or I’m happy to stay with you, if you want.” She turned red. Even the receptionist caught it and grimaced.

  “Sure,” I said. “That’d be great of you.”

  My mind raced at the thought of Lucy staying over with me, or me with her. I’d stayed over the night before, but I’d been high as a kite, and it was more of a survival thing than a hookup thing. If we were staying over together and neither of us were inebriated, then there might be something serious that could happen. Did I want that? I’d always thought she’d be the one I would go to when I wanted to settle down, and I wasn’t sure that’s where I was at. But she was really pretty, and we got along well. Lucy was easy and comfortable to be around.

  I thanked the receptionist, and we were on our way.

  In the elevator, I said, “You know what? I’m feeling a lot better. Not really that dizzy.”

  Lucy laughed. “Oh, right,” she said. “You look pretty damn beaten up.”

  “I’ll survive,” I said. “I’m really not looking forward to work. I’m going to have to deal with what happened to Jimmy now. What the hell is happening?”

  It sunk in with me then, just as the doors of the elevator opened up on the ground floor. Lucy slipped her arm through mine and guided me toward the parking lot. I’d lost Mikey and now Jimmy. None of it seemed real. Not at all. How were so many people I loved dying? How was I not a complete ball of jelly on the floor and freaking out?

  When my own parents passed, the same thing had happened with my psyche. I’d been cold and withdrawn. I hadn’t been able to cry. I hadn’t been able to feel. Best guess was that’d been my way of surviving. Instead of just breaking down and losing my head, I went into business mode. Just kept my chin down and did what needed to be done.

  The gravity of losing my parents hit me years later. I retreated into myself, into drinking, into my music, into anything I could. I still hadn’t really spoken about the loss to anyone in depth, other than Mikey. I just kept on keeping on until it was so far away, it didn’t even feel real anymore. My parents didn’t feel real. They were as real to me as a half-remembered movie. I had flashes of memories of them. A laugh. A snippet of conversation. Seeing my parents dancing to a Billy Joel song in the living room. Little things like that. Mostly, though, I’d shoved my feelings down so deep, they’d been suffocated, and they never really had a chance at bubbling back up. So I believed.

  Lucy always told me I worked at the shop to try and help other people who’d been in car accidents, and that it was maybe my way of trying to bring them back, or keep them alive.

  People don’t come back, though.

  They just fade away.

  We weren’t three steps outside when we both noticed Minarette coming right toward us. She looked like a movie star—definitely a step above what Whistleville was used to.

  “Rick?” she said. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I will be.”

  “I heard what happened last night,” she said. “They are terrible.”

  “I’m…just…”

  “Is this your girlfriend?” Minarette asked.

  Lucy threw out her hand and said, “I’m his lover.”

  Minarette raised her eyebrows, met Lucy’s shake and said, “Nice to meet you, Lover.”

  My face flushed. I was shocked, to say the least. Lucy had blown my cover. Damn it.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Lucy said and nudged me forward. “Well, I better get this handsome hunk to the car. He’s really heavy. So, bye.”

  “Okay,” Minarette said. “Feel better, Rick.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Bye.”

  We made our way to Lucy’s car and I broke away from her to go to the passenger’s side. She wasn’t strong at all, but she wasn’t happy about me getting myself in. “I don’t have a broken leg. My head’s just shook up.”

  She didn’t say anything until she was inside and both doors were closed. “Jeez. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw her.” Lucy smiled, but she wasn’t happy.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone we knew.”

  “Right,” she said as she pulled us out of the space.

  “Aren’t lovers supposed to make love?” I asked. “Because we’d better not be lying to people.”

  Lucy said, “Your bedside manner needs a little work there.” She was trying to use her trademark wit, but it wasn’t convincing. She was upset. I tried to think if I’d really done anything wrong or outrageously disrespectful. I couldn’t think of anything. Maybe Lucy’d just picked up the vibe between Minarette and me—felt the undeniable chemistry. Woman’s intuition and all.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Just trying to be funny.” I added, “Lover.”

  She whacked me in the shoulder.

  I laughed. “What?”

  “It’s not funny,” she said. “You shouldn’t joke about that.”

  I put up my hands. “Okay. Okay. Sorry.”

  Holy shit. She had feelings for me.

  Now what was I supposed to do?

  I had to decide where I was going to take it. If I hooked up with her—even if I kissed her—it would open up a whole new book. The thing between Lucy and me wasn’t going to be a light, easy, summer-love kind of thing. It’d be serious. It’d be intense. I had some thinking to do.

  * * * * *

  “Jesus H. Christ, did you take up boxing, Rick?” Uncle Dave said. He was never one to not say exactly what was on his mind, damn the consequences.

  “Those guys jumped me again,” I said.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “We’re going to have to put a stop to this.”

  “Doctor Verne is filing a report,” I said. “I’ll have to talk to the police, too.”

  “You know who did this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said. “Take care of it. Let me know if I need to make some calls.”

  “You can,” I said. “Maybe we should call Cousin George.”

  Cousin George wasn’t my cousin, he was my uncle’s cousin, but we all called him that.

  “Will do,” he said. “We already talked this morning about Jimmy.”

  I shifted in the seat. “What happened?”

  “Ready for this shit?”

  “’Kay.”

  “They found him, his feet sticking out from under the bushes, right off the banks of the Whistleville River. He’d lost most of his blood.”

  “My God.”

  “And they’re not sure how, exactly. George told me they didn’t see any obvious wounds.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Shit.” Uncle Dave leaned forward on his desk, his eyes glaring. “You two get into anything? Any shit? Junk? Needles? Smack? Some new stuff? You know I turn a blind eye toward all your partying and kid’s stuff. I don’t care. You’re that age. Fuck it. Have fun. You guys always do great work, so I don’t care. But now he’s dead. We need to know why.”

  I shook my head. “Nah. Neither of us ever got into the hard stuff. Christ, Jimmy had been clean for a long time. Said it messed up time wi
th his little girls. No AA or anything like that. He just dropped it. Unless he was doing something I don’t know about.”

  “Think real hard,” Uncle Dave said. “Was there anything strange you can think of? Him acting funny? Long bathroom breaks? Long lunch breaks? Late to work? Early to leave? Anything?”

  I ran things through my head, but only saw boring, day-by-day things. “Nothing comes to mind,” I said. “But now that you’ve asked, I’ll think about it.”

  “Good,” he said. “We’re going to have to also think about what we’re going to do for Mary and his little girls. Maybe pay for the funeral if need be. Give them a little something money-wise. We’re a small company. We don’t have tons of money reserved.”

  “I’m sure she’ll appreciate whatever we can do for her,” I said.

  “Did he have life insurance?”

  “Again, I have no idea.”

  He finally sat back in his chair. “This whole thing sucks. He winds up dead. You’re getting beaten up every other day. What the hell is happening to our town?”

  Chapter Ten

  “Who’d want to steal Mikey?” his mom said. “What’s happened to him?”

  The first person I saw at the Katz Funeral Home was Mikey’s mom. She had been laughing and smiling right before he told her that her son’s body had gone missing. What the hell? How could she be happy at such a time?

  She was talking to a tall man who was dressed to the nines. As I got closer, I heard him say, “This is unprecedented. We’ve never had this happen before in our entire seventy-year history.” He sounded so damn clinical, like a news reporter.

  Mikey’s mom said, “Who’d want to take our Michael?”

  Take?

  Mikey’s dad was close behind. He looked solemn and concerned.

  I almost hadn’t made it to Mikey’s funeral. I had been on the phone with Mary, who was, naturally, bawling. I promised I’d call her later, and would. She understood.

  “We have no idea what’s going on. There are no signs of entry. Only the back door was opened from the inside, according to our security system.”