16: Suffocate
(Malachi)
“How did they behave?” Mrs. Simmons asks when we get back from the movie with the twins. The anxiety written on her expression is probably a common look for her when it comes to her two youngest daughters.
“Surprisingly well,” Echo says with a shrug. “I only had to stop them from throwing popcorn on the people in front of us once.”
Sighing, Mrs. Simmons looks over at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come here for school? We could use your skills as a twin wrangler. I’d even be willing to put you up in the guest bedroom and pay you with free meals and my undying gratitude.”
I know she’s joking, mostly, but the offer is tempting. “If I weren’t on scholarship at Georgia State, I’d definitely take you up on the offer.”
“Scholarship?” Mr. Simmons asks as he walks into the room looking as intimidating as ever.
“Uh, yeah, for music,” I say. When his nose scrunches like music hardly seems to be something that would ever support anyone, let alone his daughter, I hurriedly continue. “I’m a pianist, but I know it’s hard to make a living doing that, so I’m working on a double major. Studying music and accounting.”
Mr. Simmons nods and turns back to his wife. “I think Malachi and I are going to have a chat on the back porch, unless you need help getting the twins to bed.”
Echo’s mom waves him off, and tows a reluctant Echo down the hallway. I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life than when I face Echo’s dad in that moment. He doesn’t say anything, only gestures for me to follow him. The house seems strangely quiet as we walk toward the back door. I have to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from twisting them together.
When Mr. Simmons points toward a couple of deck chairs, I take my seat right away. He’s considerably more casual as he sits and crosses one leg over the other. It feels like I’m sitting in front of a judge without a clue about what I’m on trial for. A million thoughts run through my head in that moment, trying to anticipate what he’s going to say and come up with intelligent answers. When he finally speaks, I’m completely caught off guard.
“Do you believe my daughter sees ghosts?”
My brain freezes. I desperately want to impress this man. I care about Echo a lot, and as much as I want her to spend the summer and the next four years in Georgia with me, I don’t want to be the reason for any bad blood between her and her parents. I suspect he wants to hear I think Echo is just trying to get attention. It’s tempting to just tell him what he wants to hear so he stops antagonizing Echo about our relationship.
When my brain stops having a meltdown, I say the only thing I can. The truth.
“To be honest, Mr. Simmons. I’m still trying to understand the whole ghost thing. I know Echo isn’t lying, so I guess I should say that I do believe she sees ghosts, but it’s a tough thing to really wrap my head around.” I scratch the side of my head, trying to find a way to say what I mean more clearly. “I guess what I mean is, I believe Echo does see ghosts, but I don’t fully understand what that means.”
Mr. Simmons gives away nothing in his expression. “Why would you believe such an outlandish claim?”
“Why?” I ask. “Because I trust Echo.” Shaking my head, it’s hard not to get frustrated. “I haven’t seen all her shows, but the one where she talked to my great grandmother was pretty hard to brush off. Not only did she know things about my great grandmother I didn’t even know, when that rogue ghost came after her, there’s no way she was faking that.”
“Rogue ghost?” he asks. He seems confused, and maybe just a little bit concerned.
“Yeah, the one that tried to jump the line during the show last week. She was terrified. Didn’t you see it?”
Mr. Simmons looks away, answering the question. There’s a hint of shame in his expression, but I can also tell he’s incredibly frustrated. I guess I should have known her parents don’t watch her show. They think it’s just a hoax she and her friends pull for attention. They tell themselves it’s just a more grownup version of the nightmares and screaming.
Shaking my head, my heart breaks for Echo. I completely understand that taking someone’s word that they see ghosts is tough. I’m still working out all my thoughts and feelings on that topic myself. I also understand that I’ve only known Echo for a few weeks. I haven’t been through the really tough times with her like her parents have. Understanding what they’ve been through is hard. Maybe I’ll never get it, but I do understand something they don’t seem to grasp.
“Mr. Simmons, the stuff I’ve seen on the show is pretty hard to explain, but that’s not why I believe Echo,” I say. I’m surprised by how calm I sound. The edgy, anxious tenor of my voice from a few seconds ago is gone. Echo’s dad seems to notice as well and looks at me more seriously.
“Why, then?” he asks.
Taking a second to make sure I say this right, I breathe out slowly. “I believe Echo because she’s not a liar. She’s not an attention seeking maniac. She doesn’t want people to make fun of her. In fact, it kills her to know everyone in her life thinks there’s something wrong with her.” I pause, holding my breath for a minute, hoping I can make my case. “If Echo could get rid of all the ghosts and the trouble they cause, she would. The idea of making the ghosts go away terrifies her, but she would do it in a heartbeat because it would mean you and your wife wouldn’t have to worry about her, that you wouldn’t think she was messed up or crazy.”
“Why would getting rid of the ghosts, or whatever this is, scare Echo?”
I hesitate, not knowing if Echo will be upset with me for sharing something so personal. It’s a risk, but I really want to make her dad understand. “The ghosts are part of her identity. She’s either been watched over by them or stuck fighting them her entire life. She sees herself as being defined by either their existence in her life, or the problems they cause for her. Echo doesn’t know who she would be without them, and that really freaks her out.”
Mr. Simmons doesn’t immediately respond. I honestly don’t have a lot of hope anything I say will change his view of his daughter or my presence in her life, but I have to try. It’s a long while later before he finally comes back to the conversation. “Why does Echo want to go to Georgia?”
It seems pretty obvious why, but I assume he’s not looking for easy answers right now. I have the answer he’s looking for, but I don’t know if he really wants to hear it. If he doesn’t, it could be bad for Echo and me. I figure I can’t make him like me any less, so I say what needs to be said.
“Look, Mr. Simmons, Echo loves you guys, a lot. Goin’ to Georgia isn’t about running away. Not in the way you might think. Yeah, she wants a fresh start where people don’t know about everything she’s been through. That’s not all of it, though.”
“Then what is?”Mr. Simmons asks with an edge to his voice.
Sighing, I just say it. “She wants to leave before her relationship with you and your wife is ruined to the point that she never wants to come back.”
The stunned silence only lasts a moment before Mr. Simmons’ expression turns hard, making me scrunch back into my chair just a bit. “What? She’s leaving to get away from us?”
“No,” I say quickly, “that’s not what I said and you know it. She’s not running away from you because she doesn’t want to be close to you guys. It’s the opposite.”
“I don’t understand,” he growls.
“Echo wants to be close to her family, but she can’t do that living under your roof feeling like an outsider and the family problem,” I snap. “She knows you love her, but you don’t believe her, and probably never will. She accepts that, but how would you feel living with people who were constantly watching you, waitin’ for you to ruin things, wondering when you’ll go completely crazy? Staying here will break her, Mr. Simmons. Things are tough enough for her as it is. There’s only so much a person can take.”
The blank expression on Mr. Simmons face makes me wary. I’m not
sure if he’s plotting how kill me without Echo finding out, or just too shocked to respond. I don’t move a muscle…just in case it’s the first one. After a few seconds, he looks up at me, eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean that things are already tough enough for her? She’s been doing really well lately.”
“Yeah,” I say, “before a rogue ghost started harassing her about a month and a half ago and her nightmares started back up again.”
Mr. Simmons rubs a hand across his face. “Why didn’t she tell us? About the nightmares, I mean.” He shakes his head, ignoring the rogue ghost entirely. “If we knew about the nightmares we could have talked to Dr. Pell, discussed medication.”
“That’s exactly why she didn’t tell you,” I say, frustrated that he just doesn’t get it. “She doesn’t want medication. It makes her feel awful and it doesn’t stop the nightmares. It just stops her from waking up from them in the middle of the night. Instead, she’s trapped inside them all night, unable to escape.”
Blanching at my words, Echo’s dad suddenly looks weary. “What else are we supposed to do?”
Standing, even though he hasn’t given me permission, I look down at him seriously. “Why don’t you start by watching her show? Instead of telling her she’s making it all up, why don’t you actually try listening to her for once? She’s not the same scared little girl she once was who didn’t know how to explain what was happening to her. If you’re not willing to listen, you’re going to lose her, and that has nothing to do with me.”
I start to turn away, but Mr. Simmons’ voice stops me. “I know you’re just trying to help Echo, but you have no idea what it’s like to be responsible for protecting her. If you did, you wouldn’t be so eager to take on that responsibility.”
“Maybe I don’t understand, but Echo is worth the risk.”
He doesn’t stop me when I turn and walk back into the house. As soon as the door closes, Echo comes rushing into the hall. She wants to know everything, demands to know what was said and how it went. Instead of answering, I pull her into my arms and press my lips to her forehead. I was glad Echo’s coming with me to Georgia before talking to her dad, but now I’m absolutely set on making sure she stays for more than just the summer. Her parents are good people, but staying here will suffocate the life right out of her. I refuse to let that happen.
17: Fear
(Echo)
I don’t know what Malachi said to my dad last night, but he’s been acting weird all day. An hour ago, he walked in and said he and Mom were going to dinner and that we could order pizza for us and the twins. I was so shocked, I lost all focus on the game Malachi and I were playing and my avatar got hacked to death by a goblin before I snapped out of it.
I’m leaving tomorrow. Moving across the country. With a nineteen-year-old guy. And they went out to dinner? What does that mean?
Setting the pizza that was just delivered down on the kitchen table, I yell for the twins. Two seconds later they come crashing out of their bedroom with Malachi following at a more normal pace. I bust up laughing as soon as I see him. The half dozen necklaces around his neck match the clip-on earrings he’s wearing beautifully. The way his hair is sticking up says they got into my mousse again and did their best to make a mess.
“What did you two do to Malachi?” I ask through another round of laughter.
“We made him pretty,” Azalea says with a smirk.
I turn back to Malachi when he comes over, enjoying the way his arms wrap around my middle. “And you let them?” I ask him.
Chuckling, he pulls me in closer. “You have no idea how many times my sisters made me their guinea pig growing up. I’m used to it.”
“You should take a picture!” Mable says.
I’m half tempted to do it, but Malachi snatches my phone off the counter before I can even complete the thought. He sticks it in his back pocket and gives me a look that dares me to come and get it. I have no doubt my face is as red as my hair after that.
I was completely smitten with Malachi over the phone and Skype. Meeting him in person? I adore him. That doesn’t mean I’m prepared to go fishing around in his pockets. Tempting, but no. I’m eighteen years old and completely at a loss for how to be in an actual relationship. Malachi seems to find reasons to touch me—like lingering with his hand on mine—but he’s yet to make any kind of move that might be considered an indication of things getting more serious. Holding me, hugging me, that’s been about it so far, and honestly, I’m okay with that.
“All right, monkeys,” I say, “what should we do after dinner? You two get to choose, so long as it won’t get anyone grounded.” I meet each of their gazes, fully expecting to see glints of wicked plans for mischief. Instead, my little sisters’ eyes are big and sad.
“Can we all watch a movie together in the den?” Azalea asks quietly.
A little confused by this sudden change in the twins’ demeanor, I don’t hesitate to answer. “Of course. You want to take our pizza in there now and watch one?” Both girls nod their heads eagerly.
Malachi helps get the twins’ soda cans and carries them into the den. He sets them on the table, but doesn’t go back for his own food until asking if anyone needs anything. The twins aren’t paying any attention to him at all, which is pretty weird since they’ve been gushing over him since he got here. I can only assume they’re finally starting to worry about tomorrow. I want to tell them I’m right there with them, but I put on a smile and grab my plate before heading for the couch.
Mable surprises me when she slides away from Azalea so I can sit between them. That never happens. Never ever. My heart pinches a little as I sit down. I’m holding back tears as my sisters instantly cuddle around me. We’ve always been close, even though they make me crazy, but they’ve always been closer to each other. There were times I truly envied them for having a built in friend, another person so connected to you there wasn’t really room for anyone else.
Tonight, they’re giving me a gift and I accept it wholeheartedly. I plop a kiss on each of their heads. For once, they don’t squirm or whine about it. Mable even smiles up at me while Azalea leans her head on my shoulder.
“You know we believe you, right?” Mable says.
“About seeing ghosts,” Azalea clarifies. They both look up at me with honest, pizza sauce-covered faces.
It takes me a second to respond. “You do?”
They both nod.
“How come?”
“You talk to them in your sleep,” Mable answers.
“And even though you make us do our chores and stuff, you love us and we love you. You don’t lie about things like Mom and Dad think.”
There was a lot packed into those words and I struggle to comprehend it all. Tackling the first one first, I say, “I talk to the ghosts in my sleep? What do you mean?”
Mable brought it up, but Azalea answers. “I think they must be whispering stuff to you or something, because you tell them things like if you can help them or not, if they should leave you alone, that you can’t let them go…that sort of thing.”
Her last addition makes my breathing hitch. “Can’t let who go?”
This time it’s Azalea who shrugs. “Dunno. You never said his name. You talk to him the most, though.”
Suddenly, swallowing feels like being tortured. “How do you know it’s a boy?”
Mable scrunches her face. “It just sounds like you’re talking to a boy.”
“What do I say?” I ask slowly, not totally sure I want to hear the answer. The freaky cold creeping up my spine has nothing to do with ghost energy and everything to do with my fear. How long have I been talking to ghosts in my sleep?
“You say all kinds of stuff, you know, to different ghosts,” Azalea says.
“But,” Mable continues, “what you usually say to the boy is that he can’t leave you here by yourself. You even say please.”
There’s no way I can pretend my nightly conversations with a ghost boy isn’t connected to my rogu
e stalker. What is going on here? Is that the only way I know him, through talking to him in my sleep? Repeat, it struck a chord with me, like I’ve got a memory tucked away somewhere that contains it, but I can’t pull it back up no matter how hard I try. If it came from the rogue, I would have had to write it down at some point, right? I don’t hear them.
Except when I’m asleep, apparently. I want to bang my head against a wall right now. Sighing, I lean back against the sofa and add one more oddity to the list of things I’m hoping Agent Morton can help me figure out. Maybe they could do like a sleep study, or something…see if I’m really talking to ghosts in my sleep or just babbling nonsense.
“What are you three talking about, huh?” Malachi asks as he plops down onto the couch and takes a bite of his pizza.
Mable moves away from me just enough to stare happily up at Malachi. “Echo didn’t know she talks to ghosts in her sleep.” Laughing, Mable shakes her head and goes back to her own pizza.
Malachi’s express turns to one of uncertainty. He cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “You do?”
Shrugging, all I can say is, “Apparently.”
“For how long?” Malachi asks.
Azalea leans around me to look at him with a big goofy grin, pleased as punch she knows the answer. “For always.”
Nobody says anything for a while, and eventually everyone’s attention goes back to the movie we’re watching. I’m not even sure what it is. One of those Barbie wannabe type shows where the characters’ eyes are way too big for their heads and the story revolves around something fairly pointless. I’m not really paying attention.
As soon as I set down my empty plate and abandon my soda can, my sisters crowd in around me. Mable loops an arm around my middle while Azalea curls both of her arms around mine and leans her head against my shoulder. Their cuddling nearly brings me to tears. The twins have always been affectionate, but in flyby mode only. Since the time they’ve been able to move around on their own, they’ve never sat with me like this to watch a show. They’ve never even sat still this long before. Suddenly, it’s not so easy to breathe.
The Ghost Host: Episode 1 (The Ghost Host Series) Page 14