Ghost Time

by Courtney Eldridge

  FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2011

  (EIGHTEEN DAYS LATER)

  2:51 PM

  Knox called Friday afternoon, right in the middle of class. And because of my special circumstances, as Principal Cheswick called it, I was allowed to keep my phone on vibrate in all my classes. So I was sitting in seventh period, when my phone started buzzing, and of course, soon as I saw the number, my heart stopped. All I could think of was Cam, that they’d found him, or—I don’t know. Because the thought stopped there. Like it just cut off. The idea of him… the thought of Cam being dead, it, it’s not possible. Hurt or in a hospital, maybe. That was as far as I could go. Because I’d know if something happened. I can’t explain it, but I knew I’d feel something if he weren’t alive. I don’t know how, but I swear I’d know.

  I asked for permission to go to the bathroom, and I was so worried, I didn’t even listen to Knox’s message, I just called. He answered, and right away, I go, Is it Cam? And he goes, Thea, you didn’t get my message? I said, I didn’t have a chance. What’s wrong? And he knew what I was thinking, because he goes, No, it’s not Cam, Thea. I’m sorry, I left a message saying that it was a personal matter, he said. And I go, Personal? Listen, he said. Do you have a minute? and I looked around the girl’s bathroom. Sure, I said. Well, I wanted to ask you something, and I realize it’s a little unusual, given the circumstances, but I wanted to talk to you about—. Melody, I said, thinking out loud. Yes, he said, and I said, Is she all right? She’s fine, fine, he said, like he was waving his hand. It’s nothing, and then I heard it in his voice. Okay, I just have to come out with it, he said: I was wondering if you had plans tonight? Plans? I said, laughing for the first time all day, What, like a kegger? Knox goes, I don’t know, a party, or whatever you do. Not really, I said. Why?

  Well, Melody was smiling all night, after you left, and to be honest, it’s kind of an emergency, because I have to work tonight, and my wife’s out of town, and our babysitter just called and she has the flu, so I don’t want her near Melody, and you know what? He goes, It’s probably a bad idea, and I go, Yeah, well, that’s never stopped me before. I’ll meet you at your house a little after three? Knox goes, That’d be great, thank you. Really, he sighed. Not because he got a sitter, though. I could tell that wasn’t what he was most worried about, but something else. Like she wasn’t the one who needed me, he was.

  He acted kind of nervous, too, when I showed up. Thea, hello, come in, he said, stepping back, ushering me in with his arm, come in, come in. He was wearing his work clothes, and seeing me, he suddenly looked really stiff in his own house. Melody’s in the living room, he said, so I followed him in. Melody, look who’s here, sweetheart, he said, picking up the remote and turning down the volume. There were Nickelodeon cartoons on, looked bad. What are you watching? I asked, not really asking, just curious, and Mel goes, He does this to me every day. Hey, I said, stepping in front of her, so she could see me. Her hair was in braids, and I’m sorry, but once again, I was like, Would you people please quit dressing her like she’s five?

  Nickelodeon. All. Day. Long, she said, and I smiled, and Knox looked at me, curious. I go, I can’t believe you make her watch this, Knox. And he goes, Make her watch this? I love Nickelodeon, he said, and I go, You’re a dad! And he goes, What’s that mean? And Mel goes: Means no one cares what you think, Dad, and I looked at her, Right? Ugh, I said, and Knox looked at me, then he looked at Melody, and then he looked at me again, and he goes, I’m right here, you know? And Mel goes, Trust me, we know, and I started laughing—she’s very funny. Knox gave us this little nod, and he goes, All right, that’s about enough out of you two.

  Then his phone rang, and he held up his finger, answering. I watched him for a moment to be sure it wasn’t Cam, and it wasn’t. I could tell. Sorry about that, he said, I have to get a move on. Thea, help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’ll be home in a few hours, he said, speaking to Melody. She’s all set, he said, and if you need anything, call me, okay? I go, Just one thing, and he goes, What’s that? opening the door. I go, Melody says to tell you she doesn’t like Nickelodeon, and Melody goes, Hate—I hate Nickelodeon, and I go, Hate. She said she hates Nickelodeon cartoons.

  Knox goes, She smiles whenever I put cartoons on, and he looks at me with that stunned dad face, all hurt and bewildered to learn a little truth about their daughter. Then he looked at Melody, like it couldn’t possibly be true, and she didn’t care. Melody said, That’s not smiling, so I told him: No, she doesn’t. And Knox goes, Let’s talk about this later, and he walked back over and gave her a kiss, and she goes, Yeah, that sounds great, Dad, we’ll talk, and I started laughing. Knox looked at me, and I nodded my head. All right, then, you got my number? he said, and I nodded yep, got it, and he closed the door.

  How was school? she asked, watching me sit down on the couch, dropping my book bag. It was heavy, and I’d run the whole way. Same. As always, I said, starting to smile, and then feeling it clipped, remembering, thinking, Same, as always, only a million times worse without Cam. I’m sorry, she said, and only then did I realize she must know everything, maybe more than I do. Does he talk about it? Your dad? I asked, suddenly paranoid they were talking about me, about us. And she goes, No, it’s nothing like that. But I heard him tell my mom that a boy from town was missing—Dad doesn’t talk about work, don’t worry. I go, It’s fine. Really, the whole world knows, why shouldn’t she?

  What’s in your bag? she asked, changing the subject. Books, I said. That’s all homework? she asked. Most of them, I said. I have one from the library, but I haven’t started it. I haven’t been able to read. Like I start reading a line, and my eyes move, but then, two pages in, I realize I don’t remember a word, I said, pulling the book out. Thea, she said, sounding so shy: Can I ask you something? A favor? Sure, I said, really curious what that could be. Would you read to me? she said, and I was so surprised, I said, You want me to read to you? That’s the favor? Yes, she said. Course, I said. Of course I’ll read to you. But I only have this with me now, I said, showing her my library book. You want me to read this? I asked, and she inhaled. Will you? Just a few pages? she asked, so excited. All right, I said, smiling. I’d never read to anybody, really. Well, Cam, but he didn’t count—in a good way, I mean. So I turned her around, pushed her over to the couch, and took a seat. Then I opened the book, and I tried to do it all proper, reading the title, saying, Chapter One, and then I read to her.

  We read almost forty pages before my throat got sore, and then we decided to watch TV for a while, but there was nothing on. So I pulled out my sketchbook, and I showed her some of my drawings, and then Knox got home. Early, like nine, even. What have you two been up to? he asked, and I told him. I read to her, I said, standing, reaching for my bag. That’s nice, he said, smiling. What did you read? The Lovely Bones, I said, showing him the book, before I put it back in my bag. Ah, he said, like he knew it. And then he said, What’s it about? I said, It’s about a fourteen-year-old girl who’s raped and killed by her next-door neighbor, then her ghost returns to help her dad find her killer. But we haven’t gotten that far yet, I said, zipping up my bag, standing up from the couch, throwing it over my shoulder. He just stood there, looking at me.

  I like it, Melody said. Yeah, I don’t know, I said, because I was reading, and when I’m reading, I’m thinking about saying the words, reading it right, so I’m not sure. Then Knox goes, Thea, can I speak to you for a sec? I go, Sure, looking at him, waiting. And he goes, In the other room? Mel goes, What’s the problem? So I told him, I said, Knox, Melody wants to know what the problem is? No problem, baby, he said, looking at her, like he’d heard her, then realizing he hadn’t. Then say it, she said, and I go, She said to say it, and Knox exhaled through his nose. It’s just, don’t you think that’s a little morbid? he said, and I go, Look, I didn’t write it, Knox. And she asked me to read it to her, I said, shrugging.

  Tell him I like it, she said. She said she likes it, I said. Listen, Knox said, I really a
ppreciate you helping me out, but I don’t think it’s appropriate, all right? Have you read it? I asked. Exactly, she said. No, and I don’t need to, he said. So what’s appropriate in your opinion? Melody asked, and I told him, She asked what you think is appropriate? And Knox goes, I don’t know, something, something happy and positive? I was like, Happy and positive? I said, Obviously you’ve never been a fifteen-year-old girl, Detective, and Knox goes, Obviously not. I go, You don’t get the reference, do you? And Melody goes, I don’t get it either, and I go, What? I turned to her and I go: You’ve never seen The Virgin Suicides? Okay, this is getting a bit much, he said. It’s such a great movie, I said, ignoring him. Ohmygod, I can’t believe you’ve never seen it! And I just looked at him like, Shame.

  So Knox goes, Listen. I’m sorry, but rape and killing of teenage girls, virgins killing themselves, anyone killing themselves, it’s just not appropriate, and then Melody goes, What world are you living in? I go, Seriously, and he goes, What did she say? looking back and forth at us. I go, Oh, so now you believe me? Knox goes, Thea, I told you, I don’t know what to believe, but if you think she said something, I’d like to know. Mel goes, Tell him if he doesn’t like it, don’t read it. Really, who was asking you, anyhow, Dad? I repeated what she said: Who’s asking you, anyhow? Knox goes, I’m her father, and Melody goes, Dad, please. I’m fifteen—almost sixteen. I go, She said she’s almost sixteen. Knox did one of those big dad inhale-through-the-nostrils things, then he goes, Listen, it’s getting late. Let’s get you home, Thea, and Melody goes, Because he knows he’s wrong. I go, I know, but it’s not worth fighting about, and she goes, I want to see the movie, and I go, I’ll bring it next time, and Knox gave me the eye, but I ignored him, opening the front door.

  Their minivan was in the driveway, and it only took him a couple minutes to get Melody situated in the back. I could tell Knox was irritated, and so was Melody, but I didn’t have anything to say, because I didn’t do anything wrong. Seriously, don’t kill the messenger, you know? Besides which, worse than treating her like an invalid, he was treating Melody like a child. And she wants so badly to be a girl, you know? God, you don’t have to hear her to feel it. But I have to say, one thing I really like about Knox is that he doesn’t make small talk, probably because he doesn’t know how, but I wasn’t complaining.

  Here we are, he said, pulling into the parking lot in front of my building. It was dark, and the lights from the strip mall across the highway reminded me of something, while he parked and turned off the ignition. Here, he said, twisting in the seat, removing his wallet from his back pocket, and I shook my head no. Please, he said, you really helped us out, and I just looked at him, like, Dude. I go, I did it because I wanted to hang out with Melody, grabbing the door handle. Thank you, he said, seeing I wasn’t going to take it.

  Best Friday night I’ve had in weeks, I said, speaking to Mel. I go, We’ll make it a double feature: Pretty Baby and The Virgin Suicides, and Mel goes, You’re on, and then I caught this look on Knox’s face, and I thought of the saying, Seeing is believing. But in his case, it was the opposite, like seeing us together, he couldn’t or he wouldn’t let himself believe, maybe because he wanted it to be true so badly, I don’t know. ’Night, I said, holding my hand against Melody’s window, and she said good night, and then I walked upstairs.

  Knox waited for me to open my door, and then I waved down at him, but when he pulled away, I swear Melody did everything in her power to turn her head and smile, to raise her hand and wave, and my chest went, Oomph! And then I remembered the line. It’s from a short story by Amy Hempel that begins My heart—I thought it stopped. I read it last year, in the hospital; someone left it behind and I guess the nurses must’ve thought it was a self-help book, because it’s called Reasons to Live. I’ve always remembered it, because it’s like, in one line, the whole story could go either way, you know? Like maybe it’s only a fraction of a second, but still, there are always moments when even the heart doesn’t know one from the other, good from bad.

  SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2011

  (SIX WEEKS EARLIER)

  4:26 PM

  We took a drive and then we went to Silver Top, Saturday afternoon, and at first, it was just like any other day. What I mean is that I didn’t see it coming, and I guess I chose to block it out, but still. Once we sat down and Sharon brought our drinks and a plate of fries, just as I was reaching for the red plastic bottle of ketchup, Cam leaned over and grabbed his backpack. I was wondering why he brought it in, then I had the strangest sensation, hearing him unzip it, and I didn’t know what was wrong, until he pulled out a big white envelope and set it flat on the table, between us.

  I froze. Because I knew right away. I knew by the size and the font and the pink postage in the corner—one look, and I knew he’d been accepted to MIT, and honestly, I felt a little upchuck in my mouth. Like I actually touched my fingertips to my throat for a second. I know that’s awful of me, but it just hit me so hard, and before I knew it, my tongue was twisting in my mouth, and I had to bite to hold it down.

  Of course I knew what it was. I mean, okay, I can barely pass half my classes, but come on, I know what a big envelope means. It means he’s got a ticket out of Fort Marshall, means Cam was leaving. Seeing it there, inches from my hands, I didn’t feel the wind knocked out of me, I felt punched in the gut, and I couldn’t speak. I just waited, punishing myself, staring at the envelope like it was the enemy, cursing a piece of paper in my head. But it was his job to tell me, so I sat there, waiting, thinking, Say it. Go on. You brought me here to tell me, so tell me.

  Finally, he reached over, pulling my chin up, so I’d look him in the eye, and I still looked at him—and even then, even when I’m angry, he’s so beautiful, I think, What are you doing with me? But I still threw a fit, pushing him away, because sometimes that’s the only thing I know how to do. I did; I looked away, acting all, whatever. Cam goes, I wanted you to be the first to know, pressing his hands across the table, reaching for my fingertips, and I pulled away.

  He pulled back, and I go, Tell me what, Cam? And he knew I knew, but he said it anyway. He goes, I wanted you to be the first person I told that I got into MIT. I looked away again, at our fries, and I said, Does your mom know? Not yet, he said, spreading his fingers, pressing his hands against the table like he was going to reach for me. Told you I wanted to tell you first, he said, licking his bottom lip, and I go, Gee, thanks, but I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t help feeling so angry, so… alone.

  Then and there, I could feel it: I knew what was coming. He’d leave for school, and I’d stay, and we’d be one of those memories you grip on to for dear life, knowing you’re the only one gripping. I was becoming the one left behind. My throat started swelling into a fist, and he goes, Thee, it’s a long way away, a whole year, and I said, Don’t, biting my lip: don’t say it. He goes, Don’t say what, Thea? I go, Don’t give me the, Oh, I’ll come back and visit. Or, Oh, we’ll see each other on vacation, any of that bullshit people say, I said, looking out the window, clenching my jaw. He goes, I wasn’t going to say that, and I go, Good, because it wouldn’t be true, I said, but only after I swallowed to get the words out.

  Thea, he said, reaching for my hand, I don’t know what’s going to happen, and neither do you. I go, Well, you’re headed to MIT. That’s what’s going to happen, I said, sighing, crossing my arms, and he goes, Yes, I am. Well, congratulations, I said, raising my eyebrows, like, lucky you! Because that’s about as much of a bigger person as I was capable of being at that moment. Thank you, he said. You’re welcome, I said, twisting my tongue again. At that moment, I knew I was being such a bitch, but so what. He was leaving me: I had every right.

  We just sat there for I don’t know how long, but finally, he leaned forward again, and he goes, Look at me, and I tried, but I couldn’t hold his eyes. Just out of curiosity, when did you find out? I asked, taking a sip of my Diet Coke. Last night, he said. Mom was at the store, so I got to the mailbox before sh
e did. I go, Last night. And you didn’t tell me? He goes, I didn’t want to tell you on the phone, Thee. Was there a better time to tell you? Nope, I said.

  Then he goes, You want to fight, don’t you? And he was right, but so what? I go, Honestly, I don’t want anything, Cam. Except to be alone, I said, reaching for my coin purse, pulling out a couple dollars and getting up to leave. And I did. Just like that, I got up and walked out, making up my mind to walk the entire way home. I had to: it wasn’t a choice. I mean, for the first time in my life, I felt like someone had reached into my chest, taken hold of my heart, and ripped it clean, like it was nothing more than a chain around my neck. I wanted to be happy for him, because he’s my best friend, and I was happy for him, but I was sad for me, I was so sad, all I could do was… feel angry. Cheap, I know, but easier than bawling, realizing I didn’t know how to do this anymore: this, this town, these people, school, my mom… none of it made any sense if he wasn’t there, and I didn’t know how I’d ever get through.

  I made it a couple hundred yards, and then I felt Cam pull up behind me. In his car, yes. Just before sunset, and he was driving about five miles an hour, on the side of the road, following right behind me. He didn’t honk, he didn’t roll down his window or anything, but still. At first, for like the first mile, I wanted to turn and yell, scream at him to leave me alone, let me be, I needed to walk. Alone! I didn’t, I just made fists with both my hands, and he knew what I meant, and I knew he knew, and he knew I knew he knew, but he followed behind me anyhow.

  I could see him like I had eyes in the back of my head, calmly driving, and one by one, the highway started lighting up with people turning on their headlights. And then it crossed my mind, how I must look, but I wasn’t getting in. And if he wanted to follow the whole way, let him follow. And he did. Three miles, all these different cars slowing down on the highway, drivers honking to make sure I was all right, was this guy bothering me? Then, seeing it was obviously some sort of lovers’ quarrel, whatever, they drove on.