Ghost Time

by Courtney Eldridge

  I’m sitting on Cam’s lap, and our faces and torsos are pretty much the whole frame, and right away, Cam grabs my hand like it’s a paw, and he shakes my paw hand at the camera, saying, Hello, everybody! Hello, world! He’s in this falsetto, impersonating me, right, and he goes, Hi! I’m Thea Denny, and I’m so angry, grrr! I’m so angry at my boyfriend, just to prove how angry I am, I’m not going to speak to him! I’ll show my bad boyfriend how angry I am for doing whatever it was he did I’m not telling him about! he said, crossing his arms in front of me, squeezing both my wrists and then he said, I’m so angry I’m going to hit myself! Then he took my hands, flopping all over, and he started slapping me with my hands—lightly, just so silly, but he wouldn’t let go when I tried to pull away. Then he goes, Thea, quit hitting yourself! Thea, quit being so angry that you hit yourself! he said, slapping me twice, on both cheeks, until I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t even fight.

  Of course, the moment we come close to having a moment, what’s Cam do? He pokes me. In the butt. His erection, poking me in the butt! So I slapped him and was just like, Cam! And he goes, It wasn’t voluntary! And I said, So? And he goes, Thea, take it as a compliment, and I said, Cam, you can’t tell me it’s involuntary, and then tell me to take it as a compliment, and he goes, Why not? Involuntary compliments happen all the time, he said, squeezing my knee. And I said, In your pants! laughing. That was us. That was real. And now that’s all I have, and I stood there, smiling at us, tears in my eyes; my room glowing pink with the dawn.

  It’s so demented, because half the time, I worry who else has seen a video, and the other half, I worry that nobody has seen it. This time, I wasn’t sure which was better, because it wasn’t sex; it was a different kind of intimacy, not caught in the act, but caught in the heart. Who we really were, no cameras, no videos, no viewers, no one but us in the entire world. And we were happy, goddamnit. I didn’t realize I was touching the screen, touching our faces, like he was right there.

  I have no idea who else saw that video, I didn’t even look to check the numbers; it must have been a lot of hits, because the resolution was so clear, so lifelike, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the sign—that video was a sign from Cam that it was only a bad dream, to remember what was real, that he knew I was struggling. He was telling me to hold on, because I’m not alone. Yes and no, I said, staring at the screen: yes and no.

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 22, 2011

  (TEN WEEKS EARLIER)

  4:56 PM

  Cam’s birthday is in January, and it was his golden birthday; he turned eighteen on January 18. So Karen made this fancy dinner, and a big cake, and we celebrated with her, of course, but then we had our own celebration, just the two of us. Because I’d been saving up since Christmas, and I surprised Cam with two tickets, and we went down to New York for a day, like a day trip.

  It wasn’t on his birthday, it was the weekend after, but we left early Saturday morning and drove to Hudson, then we took the train down, and we got to Penn Station just before noon. I wanted to go downtown, go see some galleries, go shopping, and I left all the directions to Cam, of course. We had so much fun, too. We ate noodles at this place near St. Mark’s, and we took pictures of ourselves in front of the Joe Strummer mural by Tompkins Square Park. Honestly, we just asked this guy on the street to take it for us, but it’s one of the best pictures we have. Kicking up my heel, Cam’s kissing the side of my face, so strong, hugging me. Makes me so happy, every time I look at it. Anyhow, we went window-shopping. I felt like we walked twenty miles that day, and then we went to this store I’d been reading about for ages, that’s supposed to be like the coolest store in New York. I was so excited, because I’d been dreaming about that moment for a whole year, but when we walked in, it was a little intimidating. Place was way too cool for school, and none of the salespeople paid us any attention, so whatever.

  Looking at the clothes, I pulled out this leather dress, showing it to Cam, and I was just like, Isn’t this to die? Seriously, how can anything be so beautiful? And Cam pulled out the tag, and he goes, How can anything be so expensive? And I was just like, Philistine, and I put it back on the rack. Then Cam goes: What are you doing, Thee? Try it on, and I shook my head no, and he goes, Thee, we came all this way to see this store, and you aren’t even going to try on a single dress? Who’s the Philistine? And before I could say anything, he goes, You want to get me something for my birthday or not? I said, I can’t afford anything here, and he goes, No, you can’t. That’s not what I want for my birthday, right? Well, I want you to try on that dress, he said. My mouth fell open, because I felt so embarrassed for some reason, and he says, You asked what I wanted…. And I did, too.

  So I went to the counter and asked if I could try it on. I don’t know why I was so scared to ask, but anyhow, the sales guy walked me to the back and opened up one of the dressing rooms for me, and I just stood in the room, holding this long-sleeve black leather dress up, then there was a knock. I go, Yes? It was Cam, and he goes You’ll need these, and I opened the door, and he handed me these pony-skin heels that were so gorgeous I died a thousand deaths.

  Well, I managed to get the dress on, and it was so tight, all the way to my knees, and then I put the high heels on, and they fit perfectly. I really thought I’d gone to black leather dress heaven, and I walked out, looking for Cam, like, Where are you? Then I saw him talking to this salesgirl at the counter, and she was laughing at something he said. He didn’t even notice me, standing there—he’s totally flirting with her, or she’s flirting with him, same fucking difference. She’s tall and has this platinum blonde hair to her waist and she’s like superskinny and I could hear her say something with this stupid cockney accent and leather hot pants and black tights, and I was just like, Whatever.

  I felt so dumb, too, like some little girl playing little-rich-girl dress up, and all of a sudden, I wanted to cry. I don’t even know what happened, but I got so angry, I walked back to the dressing room and took it off. The dress, the shoes, I took them off, put them back on the hanger, and I walked out. Cam didn’t see me until the door opened, because it buzzed, and Cam caught up with me, outside, but I didn’t speak to him the rest of the day. I didn’t say anything the whole ride home, on Amtrak, and he kept saying he didn’t understand what happened or why I was so angry, and I go, I don’t know, Cam, why don’t you ask your little blonde girlfriend? He started laughing, like it was a joke, and that just made me angrier, and then he told me I was completely overreacting. And then that just made me that much angrier, you know?

  He was right, but I couldn’t say it. Not just the fact that I was jealous, and I saw red, seeing him with this girl. The fact that I was so scared he’d leave me. That he didn’t really love me. That I’d be alone. Everything, all of it, and all at once, something in me snapped, and I couldn’t stop it. I told him: Don’t talk to me right now. So for three hours, we didn’t say a word. Not even when we got to my house, and I got out, and he got out, like he was going to follow me inside, and then I said, I told you, please leave me alone, Cam, and he stopped. It was only nine when I walked in, and Mom was on the couch, watching TV, and she goes, Did you have a good time? Tell me all about it, and I was just burning, in my chest, this sour, awful, teary burning, and I shook my head no. I said, New York sucks, and I went to my room and shut the door.

  She knocked an hour later, when Ray showed up, and I said, Leave me alone, and she opened the door, and she said, Fine, but Ray says Cam’s outside, and I felt it right in my chest, thinking about Cam sitting there, but I looked away. He’s been outside since he dropped you off, she said, and I didn’t say anything. She goes, So do you want to invite him in or should I? I stared at the wall, and then I go, Neither. Thea, she said, giving me that voice that told me I was about to get in trouble, and I go, What? Mom said, Come here, and she opened the door for me to follow her.

  I walked to the living room, and then she opened the curtain so I could see outside, and there he was, in his ca
r. Cam had been sitting out there, in the freezing cold, for more than an hour. Go, my mom said, so I grabbed my coat, and walked to the parking lot. I opened the door, and I got in his car, and it was freezing. I could see my own breath. I didn’t know what to say, so I said, Are you hungry? And he said, Always, and I go, Ray brought pizza, if you want, and Cam nodded. He goes, Ray invited me, before he went inside. Are you still angry? he asked, and I nodded. He goes, We were talking about you, you know, and I said, No, I don’t know, Cam. And he said, I’m telling you the truth, and I said, Great. Thanks. He nodded and sighed, then he goes, Are you going to speak to me again? I said, I’m speaking to you now, and he goes, No, you’re not. You’re yelling in a calm voice, he said, and I laughed, because he was right.

  Why did you stay? I said, trying not to smile. Because I wanted to tell you something, he said, and I said, So. Tell me. Then he said, Look at me, and I looked at him, then I looked away. You aren’t looking at me, and it’s important, he said, so I turned to look at him, and then he said it. For the first time, Cam said it out loud: I love you, he said. He took my hand, and I couldn’t say anything. He goes, Did you hear me? I nodded yes, but still, all I could do was stare straight ahead, while my eyes started tearing up. Then, smart-ass, he goes, Thea, do you have something you want to say to me? I nodded and I go, No. He laughed, slapping me, he goes, You are a terrible liar, and I go, Takes one to know one, and Cam goes, I’ve never lied to you, and I never will. All I could do was bite my tongue, because I knew what he was saying. He was talking about my dad, about how I could trust him, he’d never hurt me like that.

  I couldn’t say it then. Not even then, but I leaned over, putting my head on his lap, and I lay there, letting him smooth back my hair while I tried to figure it out in my head, trying to untie all the knots in my heart, one by one.

  FRIDAY, MAY 13, 2011

  (SIX WEEKS LATER)

  4:36 PM

  It’s a kind of falling in love, having a new best friend. I mean, things like how you can’t get enough of them. Like how you can spend the whole day together, and you do, every day, but it’s not enough. Like you want to eat them up, every time you see them, and then, soon as you leave, you have to call them, because you thought of one more thing you absolutely have to tell them. And then, the second after you hang up, they call you right back, thinking of one other thing they absolutely have to tell you. And you aren’t even doing anything special, you’re just hanging in your room or whatever, but your room turns into the whole world. Mom always calls it a girls’ honeymoon, when you share everything and you’re totally inseparable, and that’s how I am with Melody.

  The thing is, at the beginning, I was the one showing Mel all these things, because she’d been living in a cave her whole life, basically. Then, one day, I find out she’s made her own discoveries, without me, and I was like, Wait, you did something without me? Like one day, I went over, after school, and I sat down on the side of her bed, and Mel goes, Ready? She sounded so excited, too, I go, Ready for what? She goes, I’ve got an idea, and I don’t know if it’ll work, but I want to try. I said, Okay, tell me, and we’ll try, and she goes, Well, I want to do a shoot, like a photo shoot where I describe the pictures, but you take them for us. Like I describe what I see, and you draw the pictures or shoot them, and I go, You mean I shoot what you explain to me? Exactly! she said.

  I thought I understood, but we’d never done it before. So I go, What if I get them wrong? Because I was suddenly afraid of disappointing her, and she goes, Thee, you can’t screw it up, that’s impossible. All right, I said, a little embarrassed that all of a sudden, I’m the one who’s insecure. What’s your idea? I said, and she goes, It’s a movie. And I said, Really? What’s it about? Give me the pitch, I said, leaning back, kicking off my shoes, and she goes, Well, it’s a movie about a girl. I go, Good start, and she goes, A beautiful girl—she’s seventeen, eighteen, maybe, and she’s on the run. And I go, Who is she running from? Mel goes, I don’t know, but whoever it is, she has to totally reinvent herself. I said, Reinvent herself? She’s seventeen, Mel, and Melody goes, Exactly. So she runs away to Paris, because what better place to run away and reinvent yourself? And she has a look that’s sort of exotic and otherworldly, too. She has this sort of Paris 1968 vibe, or wait, wait—no, no, I know—maybe she runs away, back in time? That’s it, that’s it!

  I’ve never seen Mel so excited, she was holding up her hands, like she was asking me to let her think it through, and then she goes, I’ve got it: What if she runs back in time? What if she gets ID pictures taken in a photo booth, and bang, flash, she’s gone! When she steps out of the photo booth, she’s traveled back in time—because isn’t that what a photo booth is, a time machine? So when she steps out of the booth, she finds herself in Paris, in April, 1968. I was just like, Ohmygod, that’s so good, and Mel goes, Now you go, Thea: Your turn. Tell me what you see, she said, and I could see it. I could see everything she was describing, and I said, But does she have a name? Mel beamed, almost squealing, and she goes, Yes! Violaine. Her name is Violaine! Soon as she said that, I could totally see the girl’s face, too, like her long, dark, straight hair and black-and-white photo booth pictures. I said, So she’s got a whole new identity, right? Yes, Mel said: new life, new identity, finds a time machine in a photo booth and she runs away, back in time, to Paris, 1968.

  I was just like, Wow. So she runs away, back in time, to Paris, and then what? I go, What does she do? Mel goes, Oh, easy: She goes to the Louvre every day, where men stare at her. She wears this fitted coat with sort of a swing skirt bottom, like Dior meets Vivienne Westwood coat, and five-inch heels. And leather gloves, of course. But no make up—Violaine doesn’t really do make up, and she doesn’t need to, and she goes to the Louvre every day, because it’s so conspicuous, it’s inconspicuous! Isn’t that genius? If you do say so yourself, I said, laughing. I swear, I have created a monster—the most beautiful monster in the whole wide world, but still.

  Seriously, Thee, she said. Can’t you just imagine her apartment, and her clothes, and her closet, and the balcony off her bedroom, where she has some plants and the most outrageous view of Paris? She steps outside, one morning, waking up, and watching her do that, just that bit, your first thought is how fucking good it is to be this girl, excuse my French, she said. I was putting a pillow under my head, but then I almost fell off her bed, I was laughing so hard. But Mel was on a tear: Then Violaine turns back inside, and you see her vanity with her perfume bottles and her jewelry, and there are gorgeous shoes everywhere, and records and books and magazines….

  Listening to Mel, it really felt like she was giving me a tour of this girl’s life, and I could see it, but all I could think was, Where is this all coming from? She goes, Oh, and it’s slow, and sexy, and the whole film follows her exploring all these bars and jazz clubs in Paris, and that’s how we learn what she’s running from, starting a life in Paris.

  I go, You’re right, it’s genius. Violaine is running from her past by going back in time. Clever, very clever, and Mel goes, Of course: Violaine is a revolutionary, a Marxist. I go, What kind of Marxist hides out in the Louvre, wearing five-inch heels? Mel said, Ohmygod. She goes, Why, a Miuccia Prada Marxist, and I had to laugh. Wait, wait—there’s our title, she said. The Prada Marxiste! she said, clapping. Can’t you see it, Thee? And I could, too. It was like a brainstorm, only stronger, the way she was describing everything. I could see all the pictures in her head just like it was a movie.

  Okay, but wait, I said. How do we figure it out, whatever it is she’s running from? And she goes, I don’t know. What matters is that her life—Violaine’s life is… different than ours. I mean, can’t one teenage girl in this world create a charmed life for herself that we can all dream about and share? Doesn’t someone get to escape reality and live an incredible life somewhere, in some dimension, even if it’s only for a couple hours in a movie theater? Because if that’s not possible, how else are we going to get through all this, you know?<
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  I didn’t say anything, thinking it over, and then I just had to ask again, But what’s she running from? Mel goes, Something awful she did, and I go, Give me an example of something so awful she could have done that would make her run away all the way back in time? Mel goes, I don’t know. Maybe she screwed around on her boyfriend and got pregnant from another guy and she had an abortion and then her boyfriend found out, and he was completely devastated—. Okay, easy, I said, holding up my hands, not at all prepared. I’m just saying, she said, and I go, I know, but that’s pretty intense. Mel goes, Well, there has to be a clear motive why she would give up her entire life and go back in time. Because the thing about time travel is, there’s no guarantee she’ll make it back to her old life ever again. There might be no way back to the future, you know, so it’d have to be something pretty intense, right? Maybe she’s traveling in Ghost Time, I said, thinking about what it could be, what a person could do that would be so horrible they’d leave their own time forever, and Mel perked up. What’s Ghost Time? I didn’t even realize I’d spoken out loud. Nothing, I said, smiling, trying to think of what to say to change the subject, but I couldn’t think of anything. It was okay, though; she left it alone. I don’t know how Mel knew, but I could see on her face that she knew it was something to do with Cam. Sometimes she’s really good at knowing when not to ask a question—not often, but that was one of those times.

  Knox knocked and stuck his head in the door before I even had a chance to say come in, so annoying. Then, on second thought, I said, Knox, you’re just in time, actually, and he looked curious, smiling, included. I said, We’re working on a script about a completely gorgeous girl who goes back in time, changes her name to Violaine, and lives in Paris in April 1968. And being a cop, you’d have some idea, so, the questions is, what is something so awful that a girl could do that she’d go back in time, never to see anyone she loves, the people she most loves in the entire world, ever again? He smiled, sort of chuckled about that one, because there I was, trying to bring him in and share, which is what he wanted more than anything, to be included. On the other hand, he deemed the entire situation completely fucked up. So.