Ghost Heart

by John Palisano

  After she sat, she took my hands in hers. “Thank you for my kiss.”

  I said the same and leaned in toward her again, and once more, that electric connection transported me away from the gazebo and the here and now. It was as if I were floating up above the Hudson, looking down; the wind and the snow kept me afloat. I felt nothing. I felt everything. That moment? I wished it could have lasted forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “My mother never leaves the house anymore,” Minarette said. We’d made it to the top of a pretty normal-looking road. The houses looked like they could’ve been in any suburb in the country. Her house was a light pink, southwestern color. It looked pretty unremarkable. She pulled her car to the curb and parked. “Just smile and look pretty.” She nudged me. “Even with all your bruises, you still look really cute.”

  “You, too,” I said. “I mean—”

  “I get it.” She got out of the car. I followed suit, finding my footing in the crunchy snow. The driveway and the walkway had not been shoveled. That didn’t slow down or stop her; she went through it like it wasn’t even there. I thought about my fevered dream of her hovering outside the shop window. Was that even a dream? Real life was starting to blur.

  At the door, her mother answered before I could get to the steps. She had a mane of blonde hair and looked strikingly like Minarette. They could’ve been confused as sisters from far away. When I finally stumbled my way up to the front steps, Minarette put a hand on my back. “This is my friend Rick, Mom. He’s a very special friend.”

  “Oh. I can see that.” Minarette’s mom had a vaguely European accent that made me think she was Austrian or German. “Very special.” Behind her, one of the largest dogs I’d ever seen hurried toward the door. It kind of freaked me out. “I don’t want you to get sick. Please come inside. I’ll make us a fresh cup of coffee, no?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Coffee sounds amazing.”

  She smiled, and her eyes darted back and forth between Minarette and myself. “You dyed your hair again, sweetheart,” she said to her daughter. “It’s very dark now.”

  “Right,” Minarette said as we went inside. “That’s the new look right now. We’ll see how it goes, you know?”

  “Okay.” Her mother’s syllables ran together, and she had a very musical cadence, rolled r’s and everything. It was quite endearing. We sat at the kitchen table as her mom bustled around. “Tell me what you’ve been up to?”

  “Same old stuff,” she said.

  Then my head became clouded. I heard them talking, but it seemed as though they were underwater. I remember at one point Minarette looking at me, and at some point, she guided me down a small set of stairs toward a couch. I lay down, and then she put something over my eyes. All was dark. I heard them upstairs talking. I didn’t know what to do. Why had that happened? I wondered if it had something to do with all I’d seen that night. Then I just tried to catch my breath. The day had simply caught up to me. I was still recovering. I was still trying to get through it all, physically. Not easy, by any stretch. Then? I slipped into sleep.

  * * * * *

  I didn’t dream. I’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Or so I believed. Minarette whispered my name into my ear. I felt her near. Steering my body on the couch to sit up, she stopped me. “It’s okay. It’s late. Just rest. We don’t have to go. We can stay as long as you need to. I know you haven’t been feeling so great. You’ve been through a lot.” I felt her sit on the couch near me before she leaned over and kissed my forehead. I managed to make a grunting sound back at her. My head hurt a thousand hurts. My body was equally achy. Our jaunt across the river to New Jersey had taken all of my energy, and I’d only been able to suppress the pain for just enough time to get there. “Is there any of that coffee left?” I asked, my voice sandpaper.

  She laughed. “Are you hungover?”

  “Headache from hell,” I said. “Don’t know why.”

  “Did you pack your pain meds?” she asked.

  I thought for a moment. “Crap. I didn’t even think of it.”

  “I did,” she said. “I should have reminded you.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

  “Your eyes don’t look okay.”

  “How do you know that? It’s pitch-black in here.”

  She didn’t say anything. It took me a moment to think about what I’d asked. Maybe one of the gifts of the Ghost Heart was seeing perfectly in the dark. I should have known better.

  Minarette’s cold hands grasped mine. “Look,” she said. “I think we should stay over tonight. I’m really not up for the drive. We can camp out down here. The couch opens into a bed.”

  “Your mom doesn’t mind?”

  “Are you kidding me? She’s thrilled to have her daughter in the house again, even if it’s only for a night, and even if she has a weird guy with her.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Cool. You sound tired.”

  “I am.” She rose from the couch. “I’m going to find you that coffee, some painkillers, and some pajamas and blankets for us. You think you’ll be okay until I can come back?”

  “Sure. Hopefully you’ll find all that stuff sooner than later.” My head was killing me. I felt simply awful, even though I was trying to keep a brave face the whole time.

  “I can see your pain,” she said. “It’s in your aura.”

  “That’s real, that stuff?”

  “To me it is. Or something like it.”

  * * * * *

  When she returned, she handed me one of the biggest pills I’d ever seen. “It’s one of my mom’s. She takes them for arthritis or whatever.”

  “What is it?” I still put it in my mouth and took the water bottle she’d offered.

  “I think it’s methadone.”

  I coughed, even though the pill had already gone down. “Methadone? Jesus. Are you trying to turn me into a junkie here?” I wasn’t serious, but she took it that way.

  “No. Of course not. I’m just trying to help you.” She sounded upset. “That should take care of all your pain and make you get a good night’s sleep so that you can heal a little bit.”

  “Okay, okay. I wasn’t being serious. Come on. I’m not that conservative. I’m open. Especially considering the shape I’m in these days.”

  “Help me open the couch and make the bed,” she said. I did, and we were cuddled up together in no time.

  Her hands and body were cold. I was grateful she wore thick pajamas. We were sitting upright in the bed and I sipped the coffee she’d brought for me. “Did you have anything to eat?” I asked.

  “I’m not really that hungry right now.” She nuzzled her head under my chin. “I have you. That’s all I need tonight. I’m kind of glad this worked out this way.” She held me tighter, and I was surprised she didn’t seem as strong as she had before. Her body felt light and hollow.

  “Me, too,” I said. “It’s nice holding you.” I sipped the last bit of coffee and retired the mug to the side table, where there were pictures in frames, but they all seemed to be the ones that came with them; none of them were real family photos. Outside, through the small rectangular window, I could see that the snow had started up again in a big way.

  “This has been one of the weirdest times of my life. I just don’t understand all this strange stuff around me.”

  “You probably think I’m the strangest thing of all,” she said.

  I said, “Kind of true.”

  She leaned in, kissed me on the cheek and then my neck. She threw her arms around me. My blood heated up. I was used to her cool lips. They were turning me on. Couldn’t help myself. My heart pushed and pulled. My soul ached. I wanted my soul to be inside her—to see her from the inside out. Nothing less would do. Meanwhile, her cool kisses turned me inside out. Minarette was on top of me. She rolled her hips over mine. She cupped her hands around
my face, then around my shoulders. Her top rose and her hands moved down toward my pants. She unbuckled them and they were slipped down. She’d gotten hers off, too. I was so high in the moment, I missed a lot of how it was happening. Didn’t matter. My soul couldn’t jump my body and dive inside hers, but I had the closest thing possible in that our two most sensitive parts had connected.

  Minarette moved back and forth, sliding on me. Each thrust felt like heaven, and each brought a deep, ecstatic tingle that made me crazy.

  Her cold flesh surrounded mine, and I felt wild. I tasted coffee when we kissed. She cupped my chin and kissed me deeper. Then her tongue met mine, and I was happy when hers hardened, its tip thinning into a sharp point. She stopped for a moment.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m yours. All of me. Take what you need.”

  “I don’t want to hurt—”

  “I do.”

  She kissed me once more, only it took her a moment to brave slipping her tongue inside mine. After she had, the thin tip probed the inside of my cheeks, obviously looking for a place to cut. A meaty place near the top suited her, and as the tip of her razor tongue dragged along my fleshy skin, it cut it, releasing blood. My mouth tasted like hot minerals. I wanted to spit it out. Instead, Minarette lapped it up. There was a sucking feeling from just under the tip of her tongue, as if there were a miniature mouth there. It took in my blood. I pictured the slick tendrils wrapping around me once again…the beast down in the hollows of the Universe. Did it sense our connection? Was she tied to it, somehow? Had our coupling alerted it to us, making it focus on us?

  Minarette stopped moving for a moment and looked down. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. My mind just wandered.”

  “I know.” She wiggled her hips, which brought to attention I’d gone soft. “Try not to think,” she said. “Just go with it.” She made small motions. I shut my eyes and put my hands on her hips and made myself get in concert with her again. It didn’t take long until that happened.

  I looked down at the shape of her hips, the fall of her bones, and the way my own body fit beneath. So beautiful. The heat from my body must have warmed hers, because inside she’d grown warm. Not hot. Perfect.

  She smiled down at me, her black hair cascading around us. It made a fort, like two kids putting a sheet over their heads. Just me and her. Nothing from the outside.

  Minarette moved so wonderfully right. The rhythm locked in. I tingled all over, but especially where my body was inside hers. It was as though a million little bubbles were locked inside and wanted to come out. It was only a few more moments until they did. I splurged inside her. She felt it and smiled out of the corner of her mouth, biting the side of her lip just so. I yelled like a caveman, but she put her palm over my mouth and laughed. “Shush. My mom will hear.”

  My body spasmed several times, each as hard as the first. She rose, and she, too, jerked just so. I felt warmth from inside her. It’d come from me—from what I’d just put inside her. “I want to be with you forever,” I said, my voice in whisper. “I…”

  She stopped me with a kiss. When she pulled away, my head spun. “I want you to give it to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Ghost Heart,” I said. “That’s the way we can be together forever.”

  She froze. “I’m not doing that to you.”

  “If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.” I nodded.

  “No. Absolutely not. It’s a death sentence.” Her voice had changed from soft to harsh.

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I do know that.”

  “We can figure out a way to slow it down. Like they’ve done with HIV,” I said. “You can take from me. Drink from me. That helps, doesn’t it?”

  “Not if you have it, too.”

  I put my hands hers. “We can find people together to borrow from. Like partners. A couple.”

  “You have no idea,” she said, moving my hands away. “We’ve been through this before.”

  “But things are different now.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “I have feelings.” I looked away for just a moment.

  “Haven’t you always?”

  “Yes. It’s just that they’re deeper now.”

  She said, “My answer is still no.” Sliding off me, she lay on her back, put up her knees and pulled the blanket over us. “You have a long life ahead of you.”

  “So do you,” I said.

  She didn’t say anything; she just turned away.

  “Hey?” I said. “Come on.”

  “I think we need to talk about something else,” she said. “Like the fact that we’re snowed in.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Look at the window. It’s all white. The snow is covering it. We’re going to be here for a while.”

  “Wait,” I sat up and saw that she was right. “Can’t be. That happened really fast. I didn’t know we were having a blizzard tonight.”

  She pulled the covers up even more. “Are you going to come back under here and help me get warm, or is it wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am with you?”

  Rolling back under the covers, I was struck at just how chilly her flesh had become. “You’re like an ice cube.”

  “And that’s what you want?” she asked. “See? It’s no fun.”

  I said, “I think we can fight it.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said. “It’s going to ruin our night here. How about we just enjoy each other? I’ll be quiet if you be quiet.”

  How could I resist her half-cocked smile? She was irresistible. “Sure. Of course.” I snuggled her. “What are we going to do, then?”

  “Just hold me for a while,” she said. “Then we can watch TV or something.”

  “What are we going to do for food?” I asked.

  “What’s this ‘we’ stuff?” she said. “I’m just going to drink your blood, aren’t I?”

  We laughed at that. We held each other. We listened to the howling wind from the blizzard. We turned on the television and watched some mindless romantic comedy. I didn’t recognize it, or the actors. Minarette fell fast asleep. I lowered the volume and, shut my eyes, and then I fell asleep, too.

  I’m not sure what time I woke up, but it had to have been a few hours later. It could have been night or early morning, before the sun came up. My bladder was ready to explode. I hadn’t gone after we’d been intimate, like I usually would have done. That made it feel like I was popping a cork when I finally went. The downstairs bathroom was small, but I was happy it was ours privately. There was even a small shower, which would be awesome. I finished up and looked out at the backyard. Thick drifts of snow covered everything: their back deck, outside furniture, an old swing set, and the trees. I gasped when I saw a silhouette next to the tree, knee-deep and still, staring at me with black, voided eyes.

  Penelope watched me. She’d spotted me and had been anchored in place. Of course I blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing things or imagining her. I wasn’t. I looked around to see if Minarette had woken up, but the bathroom door was shut. When I looked back out the window, Penelope had come to stand at a tree closer to me. Her hair blew in the wind, dark and long like Minarette’s. Snowflakes like burning ash from a fire trailed past her. Those eyes—those dark and unforgiving eyes—looked right inside me. What did she want? It felt like she wanted to rip me open and gorge on my innards. Like a lion that spots an injured doe. That’s how it was.

  Knock. “You okay in there?” It was Minarette.

  Penelope’s mouth opened wide as though she were screaming. I heard no sound come from her. She leaned her head back. Small, red, wiry things crawled from between her lips—like a bundle of moistened yarn, only each crawled and searched and lengthened and reached out toward me. They were not of
her. They were of it. Xyx. It knew where we were.

  I called for Minarette. I could only say her name. I was frozen in place. Terrified. She opened the door. She saw Penelope, too. Minarette hurried to the window, a guttural, horrifying sound bellowing up and out of her, seemingly from her middle. Penelope withdrew the red, wiry things back into her face, lowered her head, looked away and then hunkered off back behind the tree, before she retreated farther into the snow-covered woods. The last we saw of her, she was only a sliver against the blowing snow, and then she was gone.

  “Well, that was dramatic,” Minarette said. “She won’t be back. Sorry if she spooked you.”

  “Jesus. I thought we were getting a break from all that stuff.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “At least it was just her. She won’t bother us again.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I think she is tied to Xyx,” I said. “I sensed a link between them.”

  “We all are,” Minarette said. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t have a direct connection. We’re fine.”

  “If you say so,” I said. “I believe you.”

  “Good. Then come back to bed. I want to go back to sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  She made it to the pull-out bed. “Oh, yeah. Can you grab me a water from upstairs quick? You can just go on up the stairs and grab a bottle out of the fridge. My throat is so scratchy.”

  “Alone?”

  “Sure. You can just bring it back down here.”

  “I’ve never really been in your house before.”

  “You’re practically family now,” Minarette said. “You just schploinked me in the den.”

  “Oh.”

  “Go on up there.”

  I made way to the steps and the door that led to the kitchen.

  “How’s your headache, by the way?” she asked. “Did the pill I give you work? Is it all gone now?”

  “Mostly,” I said. “There’s still a little bit there.”

  “Huh. Well, glad it’s almost dead. That stuff my mother takes will kill anything.”