Ghost Time

by Courtney Eldridge

  It was hard to look at him, but physically, he’s got a little nose, and thin lips, tidy, short hair, parted on the side, and beady eyes—kind of reminds me of a weasel. Actually, that’s exactly what he looks like, a weasel man in a fancy suit. Seriously, I took one look, and I was just like, Who knew the bogeyman wore bespoke? Besides, like, how could he be FBI and afford a suit like that? Then he smiled, like he knew what I was thinking, but I just looked at him. I go, So you’re here because you think Cam’s been kidnapped? Not exactly, he said. No, I’m here because we believe Cam’s been kidnapped because he was breaking into top-security government sites, and then he disappeared the very day that the NSA was about to arrest him. I go, NSA? And he goes, National Security Agency, and I didn’t mean to, but when he said that, I go, Oh, bullshit, and I started laughing, but he just stared at me until I stopped.

  Honestly, I was speechless. Because it was so totally and completely outrageous, but Foley just stared, and then my heart stopped. It stopped for, for I don’t know how long. Then it started up again. Beat. Beat, beat. Beat, beat, beat, thump, thump, thump, like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. Then my stomach made a fist so tight, I couldn’t swallow, I couldn’t even move. Theadora, did John ever mention any work he was doing, anything special he was working on? Yes, I said, looking up, not knowing why he called him John. All the time, I said. Oh? he said, raising his brow, tilting his head to the side. Can you tell me about that work? he asked, smiling at me like we had all the time in the world. Yes, I said, smiling back and then leaning forward: his car. He likes to work on his car. Cam stays up all night working on his car sometimes, I said. Yes, Foley said, almost drawling the word. I see, he said, winking like we had some inside joke. Interestingly enough, he said, We’re looking through his car now, and I almost shivered at the idea of that guy touching Cam’s car. Speaking of his car, it seems his mother found it at your house, is that right? Yes, I said. But you didn’t see him after he left your house Monday afternoon, is that also right, Theadora? Yes, I said. Strange, don’t you think? he said, and I just bit the inside of my lip. I wonder if maybe he returned to see you again or he had something to tell you… ? I don’t know, because I didn’t see him again, I said, locking my jaw and looking away.

  He goes, Tell me, did John ever talk to you about hacking? I looked up at him, shocked to hear him say the word, but then I covered, and I go, No. And he goes—he raised his brow, because I think he knew I was lying, he goes, Never? And I go, No. Never. And Foley goes, How odd, considering you two seemed so close, and I said, How would you know? Foley cocked his head and he goes, Yes, you have a point, Theadora. How would I know that?

  Foley sat there, staring at me, until I looked up at him like, What? Say it, if you have something to say, and he said, What I do know is John’s computer is also missing. Do you know where it might be, Theadora? I said, It’s probably with Cam, and then he smiled that twisted smile of his, and Foley goes, Indeed, his voice sidewinding across the table, totally creepy. In any case, Theadora, I need to ask you a few more questions about John—. Cam, I said, correcting him, and Foley smiled. Ah, you call him Cam. Yes, he said. Well. Trust me, Theadora, I want to find John just as badly as you do. And I will find him, he said, swirling a black leather portfolio with his index finger before opening it, fanning it out with both hands. And then, like he’d been practicing this move his entire life, he pulled a silver pen from his inside pocket and removed its cap with an expensive popping sound. Then questions, the same questions over and over again: How long have you two known each other? How did you meet? Over and over…

  When I got outside, right before second bell, the whole school was buzzing, and when I walked past the library, heading to my locker, I saw there was a crowd gathered. I could tell something big was going down, and honestly, my first thought was a terrorist attack or something, but when I finally got a peek and saw the television on the movable AV stand, it was a broadcast of the Albany news. They sent a crew to report on the hole in the dividing wall on the highway, and if that isn’t enough, they even sent in a helicopter to show an aerial view of the tire tracks. And the really bizarre thing is that from the air, you can see these big, thick black tire tracks, all the way from the highway, into an empty field that looks like it goes on forever. Then, about a half mile from the highway, the tracks end. They just end, like the car disappeared through a black hole or something.

  The reporter, this woman, was broadcasting live, from the highway, and she was laughing at something the guy reporter, back in the studio, was saying about it being as big as a baseball field and how it was one of those mysteries like those crop circles. All of a sudden, I got the chills and started shivering, like so frickin’ weird. And then Hicky, Tyler Hendricks, goes, Holy shit! They flew in a helicopter? Then Toby Brock turns to him and he goes, Dude, we’re famous, and I don’t know why, but all the hair on my arms stood up, and I got the chills.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 2011

  (EIGHT DAYS EARLIER)

  2:37 PM

  It’s pretty weird that me and my mom both have boyfriends now. I mean, I don’t know that Raymond’s really her boyfriend, they’re so on-again, off-again. I keep hoping she’ll end it, but she doesn’t, and I just don’t get it. They’re nothing alike, and they don’t have anything in common, really, and Raymond—ugh, has the worst taste, okay? Just the shittiest eighties music you’ve ever heard. Like, sometimes I’ll be sitting in my room, drawing, and I’ll hear this awful guitar riff, like a song that’s so bad, I have to cover my nose like, What is that smell? And then, sure enough, I hear Rain Man pull into the parking lot, blasting Bad Company or whatever with his windows down, and I cover my face, like, Ohmygod, that’s who my mom’s going out with?

  Then there are times when it works in my favor. Like Sunday, when they went to see one of Rain Man’s friends in Albany. Mom said they wouldn’t be home until seven or eight, at the earliest, and I should make myself a sandwich for dinner. So I about pissed my pants when I heard “The Boys Are Back in Town” blaring out front—you know that song from Toy Story? “The boys are back in town, the boys are back in town,” ugh—I love Toy Story, but I hate that song; I hate it. Anyhow.

  It was about two-thirty, and we were in my bed. I mean, we’re totally naked, but I was under the sheet, lying on my stomach, with my head at the foot of the bed and my feet in Cam’s lap. He was drawing high-tops on each foot, using one of my silver metallic pens to draw rivets, and I don’t know what made me think of it, but I go, Cam, can I ask you something? I got up on my elbows and I turned to look up at him, and he just smiled at my feet, inspecting his work. Hold still, he said.

  So I waited, watching him, until he put the pen down, and then leaned over, blowing on my ankle to make the ink dry, and then he looked at me, waiting to hear what I had to say. I wasn’t sure I should ask, but then I did. I said, How did your dad die? You’ve never told me, I said, sitting up, on my elbows. In almost six months, all he’d ever told me was his dad died when he was a little boy, and in all that time, I never asked. Finally, lying beside him, naked, I just felt like we’d reached the point I should know, you know? Cam didn’t say anything at first, he just looked at me, and then he started twisting my ankle to get me to turn on my stomach, so he could draw the back side of my high-tops.

  When he first started drawing shoes on my feet, when we first started going out, I used to be so self-conscious. Like whenever Cam’d twisted my ankle, trying to turn me over, so he could draw the back, I wouldn’t turn over, because I didn’t want him to see my butt all… butt. I’ll never forget the first time he tried to get me to turn on my stomach, and I wouldn’t do it, and he goes, Turn over, and I go, Why? He goes, Because I want to look at you, and that was it. I didn’t want to, but he asked, so I did.

  I turned over, on my stomach, and then I spread my legs. I felt so, so—scared, you know? So I turned around, looking at him, and he was staring. Just kneeling on my bed, staring at me, like that, and then, se
eing the look on my face, he smiled and spanked my butt, then he fell on top of the bed, beside me, putting his face right up next to mine. He leaned forward, and I closed my eyes, because I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he took my nose in his mouth, sucking my nose, and I screeched. Stop it! Stop, you dirty nose-sucker! Gross!

  Anyhow, Sunday, I turned over, resting my chin on my hands, and I always think about how we share everything, but I couldn’t help thinking maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. Then he said, Heart attack. My dad had a heart attack in the shower, he said, and I figured he wasn’t upset that I asked, because I could hear him giving the silver metal pen a good shake, stirring up the ink. I wasn’t going to say anything more about it, but then he said, I don’t remember, except that at the funeral, I heard somebody say that it’s quite common for men to have heart attacks in the shower. I don’t know if that’s true, but for a couple years, I was afraid of taking a shower. I go, What’s your excuse now? like the words just started coming out, without my thinking about them. Ohmygod. I felt so terrible, too, because we were talking about his dad, and I shouldn’t have made a joke. Awful, I know. And I turned my head to look at him, wincing, and then he just stared at me, didn’t say a word for like a minute. I really started worrying, too, and then he goes, Oh, Thea made a funny, and I go, I am so sorry—I didn’t mean it like that, and he goes, Are you? Are you really sorry? And I said, Yes, I am. And he goes, Well, then, let’s have a look. Stand up for me. Because he knew I wouldn’t say no, you know?

  But when he said that, I got all tense. I still get embarrassed, being naked in front of him, and I was trying to think of an excuse not to get up. Up, he said. I want to see my latest masterpiece. So I got up and stood on my bed, and I was ready to get under the covers again, and he says, Turn around, and I’m like, Cam, no, kinda whining, you know? He goes, Let me see the back, and I said, That’s the problem! Why do I always have to be the one to turn around? Thee, please? Two seconds, he said, crawling forward, crouching right behind me, inspecting his work—wasn’t even really looking at me, either—like he was more into his work than me, and I was like, Cam. What’s up with that? Then he goes, Yep. I think they’re done, looking at the new style of shoes he’d drawn on both feet. Come on, he said, getting up and holding out his hand for me. We’ll take a picture.

  We always take a Polaroid of the shoes he draws, so I got up and got my camera out of the closet. I used to keep notebooks—well, I still keep notebooks with all these collages I make of pictures I rip out of magazines. So one time, I was showing one of my notebooks to Cam, telling him how I fantasize about having a closet full of shoes, all stored in their original boxes, with a Polaroid tacked to each box, so you can see a picture of the shoes. And then Cam said, Why don’t you do that now? I said, Because I don’t have a closet full of amazing shoes, that’s why. So then, one day, we were hanging out, and I don’t know why, but Cam started drawing a shoe on my foot. And it was cool; it was like this paisley high-top, so I asked him to draw me another, and he did. And when he was done, he had me stand on the kitchen table so he could take a picture.

  So that’s what we were doing on Sunday, when I hear this whining guitar solo out in front of the building. Seriously, I’m standing there, naked on our kitchen table, while Cam’s working on the best angle for the shot of my shoes, and just as the Polaroid ejects the picture, I hear Ray’s car pulling up front. And I screamed, They’re home! holding out my hand for Cam to help me down. So we sprinted to my room, started throwing our clothes on, knowing we had like twenty seconds, and Cam held up my shirt, shaking it at me, like, You’re wearing my shirt, give me my shirt, and I was just like, Let me put my pants on! So I threw his shirt back at him at the same moment he threw my shirt at me, and we ran to the living room, jumped on the couch, and I turned on the TV the second—I mean, the very second Mom and Raymond walked in.

  Hey, you two, Mom said, and I was just like, Hey, Mom, and Cam goes, Hey, Renee, hey, Raymond. Totally normal, right? And I grabbed the remote from the coffee table, because the news was on. What’s up? I asked, meaning, like, why are you home already? Look at this, she said, showing me where she spilled coffee all over her blouse. Just want to change, and then we’re going to get a bite to eat. She goes, You two want to join us? And I go, Nah, thanks, we’re going to do some work.

  So Mom went to change and Ray took a seat on the chair, across from the couch, and I have to say, I was pretty pleased we managed to pull it off in time, just like, damn we’re good. Then Rain Man looked over and he goes, S’up Theadorie? And I hate it when he says S’up, and I really hate it when he calls me Theadorie. I said, Not much, Ray. What’s up with you? He goes, Hanging in there. Great, I said, staring at the TV, and then, fortunately, my mom came right back, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and I have to say, she looks really good for her age. All right, then, Mom said, putting on her jacket. Shall we? she says, smiling at Ray, and he says, See you, and holds out his hand to Cam, who does a hand slap with him. Have a good night, Cam said, smiling at my mom, and I said, Bye, giving a little wave.

  I waited a second, after the door closed, and then I breathed this huge sigh of relief, and I almost bust out laughing. Good thing I didn’t, because like a second later, Mom opened the door again and stuck her head in, and I’m just like, What now? Mom smiles and goes, Oh, one other thing. You might want to turn your shirt around, the right way, before you take it off again, and then she closed the door. Cam waited to be sure she was gone—both of us just held our breath, waiting to hear her open the car door, and then, after we heard her shut her door, Cam started laughing at me. Shush! I said, but I couldn’t help laughing, either, I was so busted. Because she knew: ohmygod, the whole time, my mom knew exactly what was going on, but she still left us alone. Well, I have to say, she has her moments. Not many, but some.

  FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 2011

  (FOUR DAYS LATER)

  2:59 PM

  But you can’t keep anything secret in school. So right away, by the end of the week, all these rumors started flying around. People were saying Cam had run away, that he’d joined a cult, that he was a drug dealer, all sorts of crazy shit, and the thing is, what could I say? And I’m not being paranoid, everyone was looking at me, whispering in the halls when I walked by. People thought I knew where he was, and I was like, Trust me, I have no clue where Cam is, or I’d find him myself. And strangle him.

  Detective Knox called again, Friday morning. He asked if he could speak to me; he had a few more questions, and I was like, Wait. I thought you were off the case, and he goes, What gave you that idea? And I go, Agent Foley told me, and he goes, No. FBI’s in charge, but I’m still on the case. And I was just like, Good, because I’d so rather deal with Knox than Foley, so I said I could meet him at three, if he could give me a ride home. God, I hate the bus—I hate it, hate it—and Knox said that would be fine.

  After school, I saw him, two blocks away, standing, leaning on his car, and I walked over, and he opened the door for me. So I got in his car, and I thought we’d have to make small talk: How was school, Thea? Fine, thank you. How was your day, Knox? But no. Right away, soon as he pulls out, he goes, Thea, you didn’t tell me you and Cam missed last period Monday afternoon, and I was so busted, I started giggling. I didn’t mean to be a smart-ass, really, but right away, I said, Honestly, Knox, I didn’t miss last period at all, and he smiled for a second, biting the inside of his lip. Then he goes, What did you do? And I said, We went to my house. Is that a crime? He goes, You were at your house that entire time? And I said, Yes, and he said, And nothing unusual? Nothing Cam said that struck you as odd? I go, Everything Cam says strikes me as odd: that’s what I love about him.

  So you said you two have been dating since September, he said, pulling out on the highway. And I said, No, we started dating in October, we met in September. September 23, 2010, 3:00 p.m. And then Knox whistled and he goes, Wow. You remember the date and the time, and I actually started blushing. Then, thankfully, his phon
e rang, and Knox goes, Sorry, one second, and he pulled out his phone. He even answered like you always see them on the TV shows. He goes, Yeah, Knox here—that’s exactly what he said. And then I heard a woman’s voice, and she sounded upset, and then Knox goes, I’ll be right over. He looks at me, and he says, I’m sorry to do this, Thea, but our sitter has to pick her son up from preschool. So I need to stop by my house, before I take you home, and I was just like, Oh, no, what happened to her son?

  Knox pulls a U-turn, heading back to town. To be honest, I was relieved not to have to go home, and he says, Guess he stuffed a box of raisins up his nose, and I was like, An entire box of raisins? And Knox just sighed again.

  I was cool, but it was awkward for some reason, like I got this feeling there was something he wasn’t telling me, and then he says, Do you mind? I said, No, no, that’s fine. So you have a kid? He nodded yes. A daughter. How old is she? I said, and he goes, Oh, about your age. After my last comment, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, I know, but I didn’t. I said, She’s my age and you still have a babysitter? Knox didn’t say anything: awkward. What’s your daughter’s name? I said, changing the subject, and Knox looked surprised, and it took him a few seconds before he answered the question: Melody, he said. Her name is Melody.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 20, 2011

  (FIFTEEN DAYS EARLIER)

  9:47 PM

  Karen invited me over for sushi, and of course I should’ve known that she’d make it herself, but I was so blown away, because I don’t know anyone who makes their own sushi, you know? I was like, Karen, you are the coolest mom in the whole world, and she started laughing. More? she asked, seeing me finish everything on my plate, including the pickled ginger, and I said, No, thank you, I’m full. It was delicious, sitting back, realizing I’d made a total pig of myself, but it was so worth it.