Haunted

by Susan Oloier

  I listen, not knowing what to say. It’s too late for all of this. But I remain mute and let Madeline do all the talking.

  “I’m an idiot to have let you go. I see that now.” Her hand is back at the table, reaching for mine. I let her take it. For now. “Maybe we can be…friends.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If not,” she says, “then please just come with me. To see him.”

  “It was a him?” I say, shocked at the news.

  Madeline nods, her eyes firmly embedded with mine. “I named him,” she says.

  I touch the ends of her fingers, run my own over the smooth ends of her nails, as if it’s a way to connect with…him. He has a name. “What?” I ask. “What did you name him?”

  “Charlie.”

  “Charlie.” I repeat the name, the sound and syllables making him all the more real.

  She pulls my hands into hers and leans in toward me as if to say something. “He’s ours,” she says softly. Before I know what’s happening her lips meet mine. Before I can pull away, I hear a slap of papers on the table. Hailey hovers over the two of us, hurt filling her eyes, as Madeline settles back in her chair.

  “Notes,” Hailey says, damaged by the scene. “On Hamlet.” She looks at Madeline for a moment, then back to me. “I thought…” Hailey tries to match what she saw with some logical explanation, but nothing comes. I’m rendered totally speechless by everything, unable to give voice to what happened and to my feelings for her. “Never mind,” she finishes and turns away. She heads back over to a table across the library and slowly gathers her things. She never looks over. Not once.

  “I’ve got to…” I scoop up the papers in a haphazard way, caring nothing about the report and my grade anymore. I stuff things into my bag, probably leaving half of it behind, and go to her.

  “Hailey, look at me,” I say to her.

  “It’s okay, Eli. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “But I want to explain.”

  Her eyes finally reach mine. “I don’t want you to,” she says, heaving the backpack over her shoulder. Hurt is etched all over her face. “See you in English,” she tells me, and then heads out of the library.

  I throw my back against a shelf of books and stare at the fluorescent lighting for an escape.

  “Arthur fucking Fonzarelli,” I say.

  Hailey

  It’s only the beginning of the school day, but I call home and have my mom check me out. She can hear the tears in my voice, but she doesn’t ask. Doesn’t have to. She assumes it’s the accident—Jeremy. And usually she’d be right. But this time, it’s Eli. His betrayal. Just when I believed I could trust in love again, his lips are all over Madeline in the library. He’s as bad as Nate. No wonder they’re friends.

  Despite my reservations about getting behind the wheel, I drove myself to school. So when I climb into the car, I break down. When I finally get myself together, I text Stella.

  Me: You okay?

  Stella: Just need some time is all

  Me: Guys suck

  Stella: Yeah

  I think to tell her I ditched school, to ask her if she wants company. But something makes me start the car and drive. I creep along the snow-covered roads and find myself in front of the house with the olive green roof again—the place I once knew so well. I consider texting Layla as an alternative, but I know she’s in school. And I need someone right now. Hopefully one of them is home.

  I slink out of the vehicle and up the creaky steps again. Last time I was here, things didn’t go down as planned. But I have to try again. Have to. I put a finger to the snow-filled flowerpot as if it’s a touchstone to keep me grounded. I see the tremble in my hands and consider getting back in the car and leaving when the door opens. It’s Zoe.

  I gulp, hoping to release the lump in my throat, but Zoe speaks first. “It’s cold out here. Want to come in?” she asks, expressionless.

  My eyes skirt past her to the inside of the house—a place I haven’t been since before. I am terrified to step a foot in the door because it will be like sliding into the past. “Okay,” I hear myself say, but I don’t mean it. Not deep down.

  I slip in, cautious, and stand amid the relics of what was once Jeremy’s life, some of which I recognize. I gravitate toward the fireplace mantel where a picture of him is situated in a frame. I pick it up and examine it, feeling Zoe watch me the whole time.

  “Where’s—”

  “Mom’s at work,” she instantly says.

  I pivot to gauge where I stand with Zoe. It’s hard to tell.

  “She forgives you, you know?”

  Of course I didn’t know. How could I? I’ve been avoiding Jeremy’s family since the accident with the exception of dropping off the Dr. Wheeler letters. But hearing Zoe say those words sends a chill through me. I’m not deserving of forgiveness. What I did is reprehensible. I don’t blame Tonya or Zoe for hating me forever, which I’m sure Zoe does.

  “Why?” I finally ask.

  Zoe narrows her eyes. “Because it…” she chokes on her words, “…it was an accident.” She drops into the chair as though the reminder of what happened not so many months ago has zapped all of her energy.

  “But I was the one driving,” I insist as if I want Zoe to punish me and make me pay for what I’ve done. I move closer to her, egging her on. “I was the one who took the keys when…”

  She waits for me to say it even though my confession was in the letters. Zoe’s eyes have the watery look of oncoming tears, but she holds them back, waiting, her eyes glued to me.

  I kneel down in front of Zoe and almost take her hand in mine.

  “When…?” she prompts.

  “When I was drinking, too.” Tears rush out of my eyes, and then Zoe lets go, as well. But we sit face-to-face with one another and offer no comfort. After all this time, it is still so hard.

  “I killed him,” I practically shout through sniffles and a tear-drenched face. “Me. I did. And…” I struggle to say anything more, but I need to. For me and for her. “And…I want him back.” My eyes meet hers. “More than you’ll ever know.”

  “I know.” She barely chokes out the two words through the lump in her own throat. “But nothing will bring him back.”

  I finally take Zoe’s hand whether she wants me to or not. I stroke the softness of her hands like it will make up for the world of hurt I’ve brought to her and to Tonya.

  “I hate you, Hailey,” Zoe says directly into my eyes, “for what you’ve done.”

  My heart jumps at the sting of her words and I move to pull my hand away, but she won’t let me. “But Jeremy loved you. You made him so happy.” She sniffs back tears and mucus. “It would kill him if he knew his death was the source of so much anger and hatred. So—for him—I forgive you, too.”

  I nod, unable to speak. Everything I’ve bottled up—all the self-loathing, sadness, depression, confusion, truth—liquefies and spills down my face, rendering me completely speechless. I finally take my hand back and wipe my face against the back of my sleeve, stand up. “I should…”

  Zoe bobs her head, and I make for the door. “Tell Tonya—”

  “I will.”

  I open the door and am halfway outside into the cold when Zoe stops me with her voice. “Hailey?”

  I turn.

  “Thanks for having the courage to write the letters…and to come.”

  “Sure.” I want to tell her it was Dr. Wheeler’s doing. But, in reality, he told me to write the letters and burn them. He never expected me to hand-deliver them and then confront some of my demons in the flesh. I’m sure he’d be proud. More proud of me than I am of myself.

  I get in the car and lean my head against the headrest, completely spent by everything that’s occurred today. My emotions are running high. Having laid everything out before Zoe has exposed old wounds. I’ve been hiding in the shadows of avoidance for a long time. It’s protected me, in some ways, from reality. Now I feel raw and naked. And it’s not a comfor
table feeling. But I imagine Dr. Wheeler will tell me it’s a positive thing. Probably something about it being a stepping-stone toward healing or something new-agey like that.

  To make matters worse, I feel totally heartbroken. I thought there was something between Eli and me. Maybe not love, but mutual interest and trust. And those things are also stepping stones toward bigger and broader emotions. How could I have been so very wrong? How could my heart tell me one thing when, in reality, it was something else? Just when I think my tears are all spent, they flood back.

  I glance over at the house, which I will likely never go inside again. Zoe stands inside the door, watching me. I give her a little wave, start the car, and pull away despite the tears.

  Hailey

  Stella sits on the courtyard’s snowy knoll by herself. I can hear the music through her ear buds. Something loud and angst-y. Hardly anyone is outside now that winter’s found its way to the area. Stella’s eyes and face are reddened by tears, and she stares into her hands. The happy-go-lucky friend is nowhere to be seen.

  I had thrown together two cafeteria sundaes with the works: hot fudge, whipped cream, and a cherry on top. Normally, I don’t eat dairy, but today seems like an exception. Stella could use a friend to mope with her.

  “Here,” I say, extending the overfilled cup to her.

  She removes her ear buds, the music becomes louder for a moment, then she turns it off.

  “I’m not hungry,” she says into her knees.

  “It might make you feel better,” I try.

  She finally glances upward at me. Fresh tears trickle down her cheeks. “He’s been cheating on me, Hailey. Cheating,” she repeats as if it didn’t register with me the first time. “I mean, how could I not see it? I’m so dumb.”

  The sundaes freeze through the thin lining of my gloves. And there seems to be no chance in the world she’ll take one. Two guys meander by.

  “Here,” I say to them. “Take these. Please,” I plead so I can be rid of them and move to Stella’s side.

  “Thanks,” they tell me.

  “Hey,” Stella laments, watching them walk away with our sundaes, “I wanted that.” And she cries all over again.

  I sit down beside her on the cold and icy ground.

  “I wanted him,” she says as an afterthought.

  I place my hand on her back, not knowing what to say. Maybe I should have told her what I knew. But I thought she’d be angry with me. Desert me as her friend for being the one to deliver the bad news. To have noticed his wandering eye and flirting before.

  “I loved him,” she chokes through her tears.

  “Maybe it’s not up to us who we ultimately love,” I say, waxing philosophical, mostly thinking about my vacillating and tandem feelings toward both Jeremy and Eli. Thinking of Eli and Madeline kissing in the library, I consider that maybe they’re meant to be together even though the thought kills me.

  “What?” Stella snaps. “You’re supposed to tell me what a jerk he is, how I’m so much better than him, how I’ll find someone else who will appreciate me.”

  “All right,” I say, “You’ll find someone better who will appreciate you.”

  “No, I won’t.” She bawls all over again.

  “You will,” I tell her, thinking about how less-than-wonderful Nate actually is. “Believe me.”

  “You’re such a good friend,” Stella says, throwing her arms around me. “What would I do without you?”

  “Well,” I try to feel comfortable in the grip of her hug, “You’d have a sundae, for one.”

  “You’re so funny, too.” She undrapes her arms and sits back, studying me. “Seriously, you’re my best friend.” She lays her head against my shoulder.

  I think of Layla who used to be my best friend, whom I’ve deserted. How can I be such a good friend to one person and such a horrid one to another?

  “But really, Hailey, what am I going to do?” She wipes a new stream of tears from her cheek. “I can’t face him.”

  “You can,” I tell her, suddenly reminded of Eli and his horrendous situation with Madeline. Despite how much of a fool she tried to make him out to be, he has shone through. He faced her instead of running away like I did. Like I can tell Stella wants to do. “You have to hold your head high, let him know you’re above all that.”

  “But how? I’m humiliated.”

  I think back to Zoe and how I forced myself to face her despite all of my fears, despite the fact that I know she’ll always blame me—and possibly hate me—for Jeremy’s death.

  Then, for some reason, I picture Eli and his resilience in the face of adversity. I know how hard he’s tried to overcome his past—his humiliations—by connecting with people, connecting with me, even reconnecting with Madeline.

  “One step at a time,” I say. “And you won’t be alone.”

  She nods.

  “Now—as my best friend—will you please get your butt off the ground and get inside? It is freezing out here.”

  “Sure,” Stella says. And I take her by the hand and help her up.

  Once we’re inside, we head our separate ways. I make a beeline to my locker to gather texts and notebooks for my next class. When I shut the locker door, I see him standing there across the hall. His eyes are on me. I don’t want any explanations. Seeing him with Madeline made me realize that sometimes the past is embedded in who we are. Like the pregnancy and abortion between Eli and Madeline; like the accident with me. Because of those huge, life-changing things, we’re inextricably tied to our past whether we want to be or not. And I need to resolve my feelings for Jeremy and come to terms with what I did to him before I can even consider the possibility of someone else.

  I suck in a deep breath and search for a getaway in order to avoid conflict and conversation just after I told Stella she could and should face Nate. I can’t even take my own advice. But Eli comes over, and it’s too late to flee. I hug my books tightly to my chest and hold my head high, gearing up for the worst.

  “We need to talk,” Eli says with dead seriousness.

  “Now’s not a good time,” I say, avoiding his eyes. “The bell’s going to ring.”

  “I don’t care,” he snaps. The tone of his voice is like a fist grabbing the scruff of my neck. He now has my full attention.

  “What you saw, it wasn’t what you think.”

  I simply stare at him.

  “She kissed me. She wanted me to go with her to the cemetery. She started to cry. We were in the library. I was trying to console her…”

  He studies me draped in my silence. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t believe me.” He sounds wounded. Hurt. “I know you’ve been through hell. I can’t even imagine what it must be like. And I know…” Eli takes a hard swallow as if the next words are bitter pills, “…you still love him. But I don’t love her. I don’t, Hailey.”

  “The pregnancy…happened,” I finally say. He moves to say something, but I stop him with my voice. “The accident…happened. And the kiss in the library. It happened. Some things can’t be changed. Like my history with Jeremy. Your history with Madeline.”

  “It doesn’t mean we have to live in the past, Hailey.” Desperation tinges his voice.

  “Jeremy…”

  He waits for me to say more, but I can’t form the words.

  “There was something between us. I know you felt it. Deny it all you want, Hailey,” his voice is ready to break, “we’re meant to be together.”

  I shake my head as if the denial of my feelings for Eli will instantly dissolve them.

  “You still love him.”

  And of course I do still love Jeremy. A part of me always will. But I also love Eli. I just can’t tell him. I can’t open myself up to being hurt by him. I’ve already lost Jeremy. I can’t lose Eli, too. It’s better to protect myself and my feelings by walking away before I’m in too deep.

  I nod. “Don’t you still love her?” I ask, referring to Madeline. “Even just a little?”

  “
No,” he says without hesitation. There’s pleading in his eyes, tears on the cusp of falling. “I love you.” His breathing accelerates as he waits for my reaction. My heart stirs and I reach for his face. I touch the tips of my fingers to his cheek, and Eli closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. But as suddenly as I give into the weight of his words, I force myself to shut down. It’s already gone too far.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Eli opens his eyes, not quite fathoming what he just heard. Not after that touch.

  “Don’t do this,” he says matter-of-factly. “Hailey,” Eli says, trying to suppress the rage and tears. “Jeremy is dead.”

  I start to speak, but Eli silences me with a motion of the hand. “I know you love him, but he’s gone. He’s not coming back. But I’m here. You can touch me. Kiss me. Be with me all you want. But the thing is, Hailey, it’s him or me. I can’t compete with the ghost of your dead boyfriend.” He takes a breath. “It’s him or me,” Eli says softly this time.

  He waits for an answer. Right here. In the middle of a high school hallway. His eyes search my face, awaiting my response. When it doesn’t come, he only nods his head. “I guess I have my answer.” He turns and leaves at the sound of the bell.

  Eli

  “She what?” Nate asks. His voice is a whole lot of loud through Bloomfield’s hallways.

  I simply frown at him. I am absolutely and in no way repeating what I just told him. Besides, he heard me just fine.

  “The bitch is totally crazy. You know that, right?” His folder with sticking-out papers hangs from his grasp. In a few minutes, he’s likely to lose his essays and homework. That is if he even bothered to do them, which is unlikely.

  “Can you please call her something else?” I ask, reminded oh-so-painfully how she was once pregnant with my baby, that I did have some semblance of love for her at one time. At least I thought I did.

  “Oh sure,” Nate says, changing his tone to official businessperson. “The female you once dated and had physical relations with—you know the one of which I’m speaking, right?—well, that young lady is…” he changes back to old Nate, “…completely and certifiably insane!”