Ghosted

by J. M. Darhower

  Standing, she slips her shoes on, smoothing the creases from her clothes.

  “You can stay, you know,” I tell her. “You don’t have to rush off.”

  “I know,” she says, playfully roughing up my hair until I smack her hand. “But the universe demands balance. You didn’t give it up tonight, which means it’s up to me, so I’m off to do my civic duty.”

  “Ah, to be young again.”

  She flips me off.

  Truth is, Meghan’s got me beat by a few years. She’s on the cusp of turning thirty and isn’t anywhere close to settling down. She’s so carefree that she makes me feel like an old fogy.

  “Love you,” she says.

  “You, too, Meghan.”

  “Love you, cinnamon-sugar apple-fritter!” she yells as she opens the front door, her voice carrying through the apartment.

  I don’t expect her to get a response, but a sleepy voice calls from the bedroom, “Love you!”

  Meghan looks at me, trying to appear serious, pointing to her eyes before pointing at me, warning me she’ll be watching.

  Before I can respond, she’s gone.

  I didn’t really know Meghan until Maddie came into the world. We’d spoken a few times, saw each other in passing, but she had a life pretty far removed from her brother. She wanted to know her niece, though, and we grew close after that.

  Sighing, I turn off the television, locking up before heading for bed. I stall outside Maddie’s bedroom, lurking in the doorway, those blue eyes shining out at me. “Hey, sweetheart. You have fun tonight with Aunt Meghan?”

  She nods. “Did you have fun with your date?”

  “Sure,” I say. “It was nice.”

  “Did he say you were pretty in your dress?”

  “Uh, no.” I glance down at myself. “I don’t think he noticed.”

  “Why not?”

  “Sometimes people just don’t notice things like that.”

  “I did,” she says. “I don’t think you should like them as a date if they don’t notice pretty dresses. ‘Cuz you can see it, but if they don’t see it, then they don’t look. And they should look at you on dates when you’re pretty.”

  “You’re right,” I say—she’s too smart for her own good. “That’s some really great advice.”

  She smiles as I stroll over, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

  “Get some sleep,” I tell her. “Maybe we can do something special tomorrow.”

  “Ducks! Ducks! Ducks! Ducks!”

  I shake my head as Maddie snatches the pre-packaged bags of kale off of the platform beside the cash register, excitedly chanting that word, hardly giving Bethany a chance to even scan them, much less toss them in bags with the rest of our stuff.

  “You going to see the ducks today?” Bethany asks with a laugh, taking my money when I pay.

  “Yep!” Maddie says. “Picnic with the ducks! Right, Mommy?”

  “Right,” I say—if Lunchables with juice boxes count as a picnic, which I like to think it does.

  Bethany dramatically frowns Maddie’s direction. “Lucky girl. I’m stuck working all day, unlike your mama, so no feeding ducks for me.”

  “The ducks eat all the time,” Maddie tells her. “Every day, too, so you can feed them when you’re not working!”

  “You know, you’re totally right,” Bethany says. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  Maddie smiles, satisfied, as she starts dancing around like she’s playing hopscotch, jumping from square to square on the checkered floor.

  Bethany counts out my change as she switches topics, rambling about schedules and days off and blah, blah, blah… precisely everything I don’t want to talk about, but I humor her before making my escape. I look around for Maddie, spotting her at the end cap of the checkout lane, looking right at the exact thing she shouldn’t be seeing.

  Hollywood Chronicles.

  “That’s about enough of that,” I say, pressing my hand to her back, steering her away from it. She doesn’t fight me on it, and I’m instantly grateful she’s just now learning how to read, because that means she didn’t understand half of what I saw on that cover.

  JOHNNY CUNNING REHAB SHOCKER!

  Alcohol, Drugs, and a Sex Addiction Tearing Breezeo Star’s Life Apart!

  Friends concerned he’s knocking on death’s door!

  I lead her out of the store, carrying our picnic stuff as she drags along the bags of kale. I’m digging my car keys from my pocket, trying to keep an eye on her, when she digs her heels in, dropping one of the bags.

  I nearly step on it, hearing her as she whispers, “Breezeo.”

  “I know, sweetheart,” I mumble, snatching up the bag of kale, about to hand it back to her when she yanks away from me.

  “Breezeo,” she says again, a little louder this time, gone from my side in a blink. Running.

  “Madison!” I call out, darting after her. “Stop!”

  Maddie doesn’t stop, but I damn sure do. She’s barely ten feet away, heading for someone approaching the grocery store. She runs right up, blocking the path as she says it again. “Breezeo!”

  Oh god.

  Oh no.

  No, no, no…

  Breezeo.

  Jonathan stands there, blinking down at her, confusion clouding his face. I’m not sure how she recognized him, with scruff covering his jaw, still all banged up. He looks like a battered version of the actor, not the character.

  My chest tightens as I hold my breath. He doesn’t recognize her right away, but I can tell the moment it kicks in. There’s a flicker of shock he can’t conceal before his expression straightens out. He might be panicking, but he isn’t showing it, not that I can see.

  Yet, he says nothing.

  He stares at her in silence.

  I’ve imagined this moment so many times, in so many different ways, none of which I’m even remotely ready for, but it was never like this. I have no idea how he’s going to react, no idea what he’ll do. It’s so far out of my control that I want to just grab her and run.

  Jonathan’s eyes meet mine, widening, pleading. There’s the panic. Carefully, I step toward them.

  “Breezeo?” Maddie says again, standing right in front of him, drawing his attention back to her. She sounds hesitant now, conflicted by how he’s acting, a fact that seems to spur him into action.

  “Hey there,” he says as he kneels down, eye-level with her. “Don’t say that too loud. People might hear.”

  “Mommy says she got my drawing to you,” she says excitedly, whisper-shouting. “Did you see?”

  He smiles slightly. “I did.”

  I can barely hear his voice. He stares at her like he’s committing her face to memory, like he fears this may be the only time he ever sees it.

  “Did you like it?” she asks. “Did it make you better?”

  “I loved it,” he says. “And it made me feel a lot better. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Breezeo!”

  His gaze meets mine. He cocks an eyebrow. He’s waiting for me to do something, but what?

  “Maddie, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this,” I say. “He’s not really Breezeo, remember?”

  “I know that.” She rolls her eyes dramatically, like I’m being crazy. “He’s Johnny, like on the TV and the papers and stuff, but he’s still Breezeo too, right?”

  “Right… I think.”

  “Sounds about right to me,” he says, holding his left hand out to her. “My name’s Jonathan, though. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  She grabs his hand, shaking it wildly. “Mommy calls me Maddie. You can call me Maddie, too!”

  “Maddie,” he repeats.

  It’s a sweet moment—or well, it should be sweet. Tears sting my eyes that I blink away, a lump in my throat that I force down, not wanting to confuse Maddie with my reaction.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask quietly when Jonathan stands back up.

  “McKleski sent me to get milk,” he says. “She told
me to make myself useful.”

  “Yeah, uh…” I glance toward the store. “You’re not going to want to do that. The cashier that’s working, well, she’s a bit of a Breezeo fangirl.”

  “Me, too!” Maddie says.

  I grasp Maddie’s shoulder, pulling her back to me. “Yes, but you, little one, know how to keep a secret.”

  “I do,” she says, smiling widely as she looks up at me. “Like that one time when you told me that secret that you didn’t like—”

  I don’t even know where she’s going with this, but I don’t let her finish, clamping my hand down around her mouth to muffle her words, hissing, “Secret, remember?”

  Jonathan laughs. “Well, then. I guess no milk for McKleski today.”

  Maddie yanks my hand away from her mouth, too excited to stay quiet. “I can get her milk!”

  “No, I, uh…” Crap. “I can do it. It’ll only take a second. Just…” Crap. “Uh…” How did I get myself into this? “Just wait here. Do you think you can…?” Crap. Crap. Crap. I wave between him and Maddie. “For just a second?”

  His eyes widen when he realizes what I’m asking, like he can’t believe his ears, which is funny, because I can’t believe it came from my own freaking lips. Did I seriously ask him to watch her for me?

  “Sure,” he says hesitantly, like he expects me to change my mind, and I want to, but I can’t, not when I’ve already said it. “If you’re sure.”

  I nod. “I’ll be right back.”

  I try to be calm about it, to not raise any alarms, my footsteps determined as I head back into the store. I make my way to the back, grabbing a gallon of milk, before heading for the register with it, my heart racing the whole time. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I just did that. I left her with him, just left her there—with him—just like that. He could take her. He could run. For all I know, that was his plan all along. Maybe he doesn’t even need milk.

  “Forget something?” Bethany asks when I set the milk in front of her.

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “Stupid me.”

  She rings it up, and I pay for it, snatching up the gallon of milk before she can make conversation.

  Stepping out of the store, I exhale shakily, spotting them still standing there together. Maddie is talking nonstop, while he’s grinning down at her like he’s mesmerized.

  His smile dims a bit when I approach. He almost looks disappointed that I’m back. I try to brush that off as I shove the milk at him, but my stomach knots.

  “Thanks,” he says. “Maddie was telling me all about the ducks.”

  “Is that right?” I glance at her. “We should probably get over there.”

  “I told him we got kale!” she says, squeezing the bags. “He says that’s crazy, ‘cuz they eat bread! But he’s the crazy one, ‘cuz bread is bad for the ducks, but he doesn’t believe they eat the kale!”

  “Well, then,” I say when she pauses to take a breath. “Guess he doesn’t know much about ducks.”

  “Guess not,” he agrees, lingering there like he doesn’t want to leave.

  “He should come!” Maddie declares, looking at him with wide eyes. “You can feed the ducks!”

  “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” I say.

  “Why not?” she asks.

  Why not? It’s a good question, one I’ve got no answer for—at least, no answer she’ll understand. “I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “Too busy for ducks?” she asks incredulously, looking at him with disbelief. “You don’t wanna feed them with me?”

  I’m screwed. That’s it. I know it instantly. The way she asked that, the way she worded it? There’s no way he can say no.

  He mumbles something, not answering her question, and looks to me for help. It’s strange, seeing him so vulnerable. He’s drowning right now.

  “We’ll be over at the park,” I tell him. “If you want to come by after you drop the milk off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He’s asking me, but Maddie answers. “Duh.”

  He laughs. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you.”

  After a moment of hesitation, a moment of staring at Maddie again, he finally leaves. Maddie watches until he slips out of sight. Turning to me, she grins. “Mommy, it’s Breezeo. He’s here!”

  She’s got stars in her eyes, my dreamer girl, and I return her smile, even though I’m terrified that all this is going to inevitably crush her. He’s here, and he’s trying, but how long can that last? How long until he blows out of town again and goes back to his life, leaving everything behind? How long until my lovesick little girl becomes an inconvenience to him, too?

  Chapter 10

  JONATHAN

  The park is quiet this early in the afternoon, a few families hanging out, minding their own business. Nobody pays me any attention as I stroll toward the picnic tables, hat pulled down low, sunglasses on to avoid eye contact.

  I’ve done live press conferences and walked red carpets, sat through depositions with high-powered attorneys who never hesitated to tear me apart. I went to rehab once... twice… okay, more like five times, sat through countless AA meetings and spilled my soul to the best goddamn shrink over on the west coast. Audition after audition, meetings and negotiations, interviews on press junkets where reporters seemed to not understand what ‘no personal questions’ meant. I’ve been around some important people in my life. Even met the president once.

  But never, through all that, was I ever as nervous as I am at this moment.

  My palms are sweaty. My arm is itching. My wrist hurts like a son of a bitch—I can feel it throbbing along to the beat of my heart.

  I think I’m going to be sick, but I suck it up as I head toward the water, where Kennedy lingers with our daughter.

  I feel like shit, yeah, but nothing’s going to get in the way of this… whatever it is. I’ll take anything I can get.

  “You’re here!”

  Madison’s voice is loud, excited, as she runs up to me, still lugging around bags of kale. Her dark hair falls into her face, her braid coming undone. She blows it away, shoving it out of her eyes, smiling up at me.

  “Of course,” I say. “Couldn’t miss seeing these ducks.”

  She shoves one of the bags at me, damn near punching me with it. I wince when she hits a bruised rib. It hurts like hell, but I make not a sound as she says, “You can feed them that one, ‘cuz I got this one.”

  I take the bag, hesitating, before pulling the sling off my arm. I’m supposed to keep wearing it for a few more days, but fuck it. Can’t do this one-handed. I toss it on the grass, watching as Madison rips her bag open, splitting it down the side and damn near losing all her kale. It starts to spill, and instinct kicks it. My hand darts out, and I grab ahold of it, wincing again as pain stabs up my forearm. “Careful.”

  “I gots it,” she says, matter-of-fact, although she doesn’t, leaving a trail of kale around us like Hansel & Gretel with breadcrumbs. None will make it to the ducks at the rate we’re going.

  “Here,” I say, struggling as I open the second bag. “Let’s trade.”

  She shrugs, like she doesn’t see what the big deal is, but she trades bags with me before heading toward the water. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

  Met her less than an hour ago and she’s already bossing me around. I follow her to the riverbank, where a family of ducks swims in the water.

  “What about your mom?” I ask, feeling guilty, like I’m stealing Kennedy’s morning.

  “Mommy doesn’t like the ducks. She says I can feed them but I gotta keep them over here ‘cuz they might eat her.”

  I laugh at that, my gaze seeking out Kennedy as she sits at a picnic table, watching us. “Guess some things never change.”

  “Like what?”

  I look at Madison. “Huh?”

  “What things never change?”

  “People,” I say. “Or some people, anyway. Your mom hasn’t changed much.”

  Still the beautiful,
savvy woman she always was. Even at seventeen, when she first came into my life, she felt so much more put together than everyone else, but her quirks are still there.

  “You know my mommy?” Madison asks, her brow furrowing.

  “Yeah,” I say. “We used to know each other well.”

  Madison seems to mull that over as she closes the rest of the distance to the river, grabbing a handful of kale from her bag and launching it overhead, into the water. The ducks don’t hesitate, rushing right for it. It’s gone in an instant, and she throws another handful as they flood up onto the riverbank, making a ruckus.

  “Jesus Christ,” I say when the ducks surround us, trying to rip the bag out of my hand as Madison giggles, throwing handful after handful, not bothered in the slightest.

  Panicked, I turn the bag over and fucking dump it out, right on the ground, taking a few steps back. Madison does the same, watching me, sprinkling her kale on top of them.

  “You’re right,” I say. “They like it.”

  “Told you so,” she says, crumbling the bag up into a ball as she looks for somewhere to put it.

  I take it. “I can throw it away.”

  “Thank you, Breezeo.”

  That’s all she says before darting away, running around, playing as some ducks follow her, even though she doesn’t have the kale. I grab my sling and toss the empty bags into a trashcan before approaching Kennedy. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word, sipping juice as she watches Madison from afar.

  “Crazy,” I mumble. “It’s like she’s just this tiny person.”

  “She is,” Kennedy says. “Were you expecting something different?”

  “I don’t know that I expected anything. I just—”

  “I know.”

  She cuts me off before I can finish. Does she know? Maybe. But there’s sharpness to her voice that tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t finish that sentence.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” I say. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she says. “You and I are long over, Jonathan. All that matters is Maddie.”

  The way she says that stings. “Well, still, thank you.”