"What's up, Dad," he said as he grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat and shut the car door.
"Listen, I feel real bad about last night," Peter said, leaning in close. "I got your messages after my meeting. I tried to call you, but I guess your phone was off the rest of the night."
Jason shouldered his bag. "Whatever, it's no big deal."
"Hey, I screwed up. I'm good at that sometimes." His dad tested a smile. "You didn't take the boat out, right?"
"Of course not. You weren't there. I had Holly's family with me. None of them could have helped me crew the boat. You think I'd sail Lucy without you?"
"No. Of course not."
"Then why did you look nervous just now, like I'd sailed her alone?"
"I didn't say a damn thing, Jason."
"I know the rules. I keep my word."
Peter cocked his head to the side. "That some kind of jab at me?"
"You completely ruined the night by not showing up. Well, almost completely ruined it, anyway. It was not cool."
"Your girl wasn't impressed, huh?"
"The whole point was to take her grandpa out on the water. It wasn't all about Holly." That felt a little dishonest to say. ^s Aldont>
"We'll go another time," Peter assured him.
"When is that?"
Peter shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I've got a couple more days in town before I head back down to Portland. Maybe this weekend sometime?"
"Okay, sure." Jason started up the stone walkway. "Just call me later, I guess, to make a plan."
His dad jogged back down to the Beamer and climbed in.
Jason waved back at him from the porch's first step. All guilt, all remorse, had disappeared from his dad's face. Another task completed in his dad's day book. Apologize to Jason. It was probably written on a sticky note somewhere.
He was pretty sure he wouldn't be going sailing with his dad that weekend. But he didn't mind too much. He'd rather spend time with Holly anyway. "What did he want?" Mom asked the question as if she couldn't care less, but her tense lips gave her away. She set the mail she was sorting down on the console table in the hallway and clacked out of her high-heel shoes.
"Nothing, Mom."
She let out a long sigh. "He was sitting in the driveway when I got home, so I assume it was something important."
"We just needed to talk."
She followed Jason into the living room, where he was dropping his backpack onto the couch. "I don't like feeling that you're keeping things from me."
"I'm not. Mom, it was something stupid. Just forget about it."
She swooped up her long hair in her hands, twisting it into a small bun. "It's been a really long day. You know I'm just getting back into showing houses, and it's hard work. I'm exhausted, Jason. So, can you let me in on your secret? I don't understand what you'd discuss with Dad and not me."
Jason took a seat on a leather barstool in the kitchen and surveyed the platter of Rosie's chocolate chip cookies. "It's not about you," he said, selecting the smooshed-looking one at the edge of the plate, since it had the most chips.
His mom sat down across from him and folded her arms. "I wasn't saying that it was."
For just a moment he considered telling her about his dad leaving him high and dry at the dock. But what good was that going to do anyone? She didn't need to hear anything lame that Dad had done so she could add it to her list of complaints against him. "Dad's schedule is really messing me up," he said simply.
A look of relief crossed her face.
"See, I told you it wasn't about you," he said around a mouthful of cookie. "You totally thought it was."
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She smirked, but then her face softened. "I was more worried that it was something bad. That you'd gotten into trouble or something. You've been keeping to yourself even more than normal."
"Really? I didn't think you'd been home to notice."
"Easy, young man. I know from what Rosie told me that you haven't been eating dinner much. And I was getting a little worried. With me and your father having issues—"
"Mom." He held up a hand. "If anything, I'm starting to get over feeling bad. Things are starting to take a turn for the better, maybe."
"All right." She stood up from the chair and brushed the wrinkles from her silk suit. "I'm glad to hear it."
"How'd you do today?"
His mom brightened at the question. "Actually, I scored a new listing for a house in Magnolia with the most beautiful gardens. Lovely English landscaping, a heated greenhouse full of flowers and vegetables, a pool surrounded by classic Roman columns and statuary. The owner's asking four million. Once I sell that, I'll be on my way again." The smile that flooded her face made him smile back.
"Sounds gorgeous."
"It is. Maybe I'll take you over there to help me stage it for showing. The outside's lovely, but the inside needs some help." She paused, batting her eyelashes. "How about if I say pretty please?"
"Mom. You know I'll help you."
She gave him a hug, her jewelry clanging together against his chest. "Thanks." His mom moved back, patting him on the arms. "And if anything does come up, I hope you'll share it with me. Even if I'm not always here, I'm still your mom." "I'm happy," he said, testing the words. "You don't need to worry."
Later he thought about that simple word, happiness. It was more than just liking a girl and having her like him back. He'd had a girlfriend before. It was the thought that Holly was special—that she could love him and know him in a way that no one else could.
And yeah, this whole thing had come together in an unusual way, but that didn't mean it couldn't work out.
***
You know some things about being a ghost by now:
There are no smells. (This is probably a good thing.)
No one can hear or see you. (Usually.)
You don't sleep.
The lack of sleep is the hardest to deal with. Being dead makes you tired, but not in a body way. Being dead makes you tired in a mind way. At night you go from place to place, watching the living you are connected to sleep, eat, get naked—which you're not trying to see, necessarily—channel surf, suck down cigarettes as if they weren't lung killers. And even if you float-sit in a chair with yo cchawith me. Eur eyes closed, you don't go anywhere. You don't drift off to the magical realm of dreams. You don't even sink into blackness. Which can only mean, you figure, that anyone you knew who ever became a ghost, like you are now, had you under constant surveillance.
That's right.
They saw you belch, cry, masturbate, take the last sip of milk and put the empty jug back into the fridge instead of into the recycling bin. Of course, this is all speculation. You don't know for sure that anyone you knew died and became a ghost. Or if other ghosts have experienced what you're experiencing. But if they have, surely they have seen some of the things you've seen your friends and family do.
The hardest thing to watch—the thing you are watching now—is Holly crying. She lies on her side in the lower bunk in her room. Above her, Lena is sleeping peacefully, like only a little kid can.
You notice Holly has a pillow between her knobby knees to keep them from aching later. She always did that, at least the few times that you had occasion to see her sleep when you were alive. When you went camping. When she was sick at home with the flu and you visited her. It's amazing how she has her body tucked into itself like a fancy folded napkin. Like she wants to make herself as small as possible.
You can't read her thoughts, but you're not sure you'd want to read them, anyway. As you kept Aldo company earlier in the evening, Holly had been checking her buzzing phone. Jason's number kept popping up. Three missed calls up until the time she clicked the phone into its charger.
At first you were a little peeved about Jason calling, but then you wondered why she wasn't answering his calls. And now you're spinning out theories on why she's crying. You're half-tempted to go visit Jason's house, but maybe you
don't want to know the truth. With all the time you spent with Aldo this week, you'd almost forgotten about Jason and Holly's flirtation, but here it is now, right in front of you. Streaming down Holly's face.
You rest your ghostly hands on your knees and cradle your head. Holly. Don't cry. Whatever he did, he isn't worth your tears. The door creaks open.
Holly sits up in bed, wiping her face with the sheet. "What? What is it?"
You watch Aldo shuffle in, motion for you to get out of the chair, and settle into it himself once you float over to stand near the window.
"Do you need something, Grandpa?"
"No, cara mia."
She gives him a puzzled look. "Why did you come in here?"
"I heard you crying," he says with great effort.
"I'm sorry." She swipes at her cheeks again. "Here, let me get you back into bed."
"No," he says, his eyes clear and focused. "Don't cry," he says, repeating your mantra. cant width="5%
"I'm not sad. I'm just frustrated or something. There's this new guy, and I don't know what to do, I guess." Her words are a rush, but then she stops, gazing at him. "I know you probably don't get all this, Grandpa, sorry."
He nods.
"Maybe I miss Rob."
Your heart catches in your chest. You feel that glowing feeling again, your energy radiating out but reaching nowhere. If you could, you'd wrap Holly in your arms.
"Everything is different now. Harder. You know?" Her expression seems to say that she doesn't want to burden him.
Aldo smiles softly. "Go to sleep."
She looks surprised at his command but nestles back under the covers, watching her grandfather. He lowers himself into the chair, trying to get comfortable, and then he does the thing you cannot do, will not ever do again—he reaches out and takes her hand.
"Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine," he says, more to you than to her.
And you fade out to find another place to perch, another place to rest your mind.
Another place not to sleep.
***
"Wait. Let me get this straight: you guys kissed?" Marisa said, barely containing her glee.
"Yeah."
The cafeteria was just starting to fill with kids for our lunch period. I didn't see Jason yet, but I supposed he'd find us soon. In chem that morning, I'd focused on small talk and jetted out the door before he could offer to walk with me. I knew it wasn't fair to avoid him, but I'd wrestled all night with what to do and still had no good plan. And already I'd been getting some attention in the hallway, like people knew what had happened between us. That they had seen us together. That we were a thing. Or a something.
Marisa snapped her fingers. "Lady! He took you for a burger yesterday and you made out, and you didn't call me? What is wrong with you?"
"It's not like that, exactly," I said.
"Well, how is it?" Marisa took a bite of her sandwich and chewed it cheerfully.
"I felt weird. I guess there's no other way to describe it."
"I know it's not like you went through a breakup with Rob, but life does go on. Eventually you date someone else and it starts to feel normal. It's like that every time you break up and then start dating a new guy." She took a sip of her sparkling water.
"Right." Marisa lowered the bottle. "I'm sorry. I cI'm and then guess I forgot that Rob was the first."
"And the only, really," I added. I set down my apple.
"Well, it was a while ago, but it happened to me," Marisa said. "That guy Sam from freshman year, remember? My mom hated him, even though we invited him over for dinner and stuff all the time."
"I can't picture your mom hating anyone."
"He made fun of her accent once. It wasn't pretty," Marisa said. "I dumped him, and after that I found Scott Ryder. It was weird the first time we kissed. I kept thinking of Sam. But luckily it turned out that Scott was a much better kisser, and I forgot everything about Sam after that."
"Wasn't Scott the one who broke up with you right before Valentine's?"
Marisa threw up her hands. "Yes. But that is not the point. Are you listening to me? It's not going to be the same ever. You can't wish it back the way it was and have it happen."
"I know," I said quietly.
Marisa reached across the table and patted my hand. "Was it that bad? The kiss, I mean."
"No." I didn't tell her how amazing it had been, about how I could barely find the handle of the car door, about how my lips tingled afterward, until they sipped the chocolate shake. About how I'd freaked a little. "It was nice."
"If I were your therapist, which I'm not, of course, I would tell you that these things take time. My mom is always repeating that to me when I want things to be easy or smooth or to fall into place."
"I miss your mom," I said.
"She wants you to come over for dinner sometime soon. She wants to make some chicken tikka for you—teach you the recipe, probably. She knows that I'll never learn it. She likes that you're smart, you know."
"I'm not smart."
"Sheesh. You are supersmart, you idiot." Marisa rolled her eyes and took another sip of her sparkling water. "You've been so wrapped up in all this Rob dying stuff, you didn't notice you're in some pretty smart classes, apparently."
"I guess."
"Well, they're a lot more challenging than my fashion merchandising class, I'm sure. That Mrs. Dolan is totally out of it. She thinks we all want to work at the mall when we grow up. She has no idea that some of us are thinking bigger."
"That's cool that you know you want to be a designer," I said.
"Yeah, too bad my dad wants me to be a software engineer like him," Marisa said. "He doesn't care that I suck at math."
"I don't know what I wa cnowe that nt to do anymore. Or what's going to happen with anything."
"Well, then, maybe you just shouldn't worry about you and Jason. Just worry about you. That's easy enough, right?"
"Yeah."
"And in the meantime, you can see what happens."
"That's the hardest thing to do," I said.
"I know. But isn't it exciting, too? I mean, how cool would it be if it works out with you and Jason, right? He's cute, kind, smart, quiet. Seriously, I don't know why he doesn't have a girlfriend. I mean, well, I guess he does now." She gave me a little smile.
"This is all just weird," I said, biting into my apple again. "It's not what I thought was going to happen."
"And that's a good thing," Marisa said. "If you were going to be doing the same thing and be alone for the rest of this life, it'd get pretty boring."
"Yeah." I stared off into the crowd moving toward the lunch line. I didn't see Jason, and that was just fine. I needed some time to think about what Marisa said.
It's funny how nothing can happen for a long, long time and then everything comes all at once. Grandpa Aldo, Jason, having to think about what kind of a future I wanted for myself. It almost made me long for the time when things were easier, when I was just sad and life ground on day after day. The thing about all the stuff swirling around me was that it was all stuff that had to be dealt with in some way. And I didn't see any rest in sight.
"Hey, wait up." Mark flagged Jason down as he headed out to the parking lot after last period.
Jason paused at his friend's locker, scanning the crowd of kids flooding out onto the sidewalk. He'd missed Holly at lunch, and now he was going to lose his chance of giving her a ride home.
"What's up?" He gave Mark a playful shove.
Mark smiled. "Couple of us are going to have a pickup game out at the park later. You in?"
"Nah. I got this thing," he said.
"Yeah?" Mark stuffed his Mariners cap on his mess of dark hair and slammed his locker shut. His bag was anemic, like there wasn't a single thing inside of it but a Pee-Chee folder or two. Jason adjusted his own bag, heavy with books, on his shoulder. "A thing, huh?"
"Got some plans."
Mark gave him a sly smile. "Hanging out with that Holly gir
l, huh?"
"That Holly girl?" Jason couldn't keep an icy edge from his voice.
"What?" Mark said, adjusting his cap. "A few weeks ago you were talking shit about her with the rest of us, and now..."
"I wasn't talking shit about her," Jason said. He stifled the urge to punch the crap out of his so-called friend. Mark didn't deserve to see him get angry, to let him get under his skin.
"Hmm. Well, maybe I'm remembering it wrong"—Mark nodded his head thoughtfully—"but I'm pretty sure we were all on the same page about that one."
"Okay, later." Jason started down the hall, weaving his way through kids like they were obstacle cones, but Mark caught right up.
"Wait, man—I get it, all right? You really like her, huh? When I saw you with her in the parking lot yesterday, that's what it seemed like."
Jason gave Mark a hard look. "I've gotta go. I told you I've got a thing later. Okay? I can't hang out with you guys tonight." It wasn't even worth it to explain what he had going. Mark didn't deserve another opening to razz him for anything.
"I'm not saying you can't like who you like."
"Thanks," Jason said.
"C'mon. You know what I'm talking about."
Jason stopped in his tracks and stared at Mark. "What? She dated Rob, so no one else can ever like her?"
"Dude." Mark looked back at him, his face completely blank. Jason thought back to last week, when Mark had seemed to get it, that Holly wasn't to blame for what had happened to Rob any more than Mark was. Maybe less, even. Mark's expression made him wonder if that conversation had all been a dream.
"I thought we went over this the other night," Jason said, deciding to call him on it. Deciding that he couldn't stand Mark's fakeness or denial, or whatever this was.
"Yeah," Mark muttered. He scratched at his forearm, avoiding Jason's gaze now.
Jason pulled his keys out from his backpack and clicked the locks on the Audi. "Okay, so, maybe you're jealous. Is that what this is?"
"Jealous?" Mark let out a little laugh. "Right. Just watching out for you, man." He clapped Jason on the back and gave his shoulder a push. "Damn, you're so serious! You looked like you wanted to kick my ass just then. All over a stupid girl. Nice."
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