Ghost Time

by Courtney Eldridge

  Every time I told Cam something about me, every single time I shared a secret, I thought that would be the end. I thought as soon as he saw me for who I really am, in a day or two, he’d move on, and that time, for sure—I was so sure that’d be the end, but it wasn’t. No, Cam put his arms around me, hugging me for the longest time, rocking me until I wasn’t tense, and then he put both his hands on my face, so I’d look at him. There were tears in his eyes, and I knew then—I knew he loved me, because I could see the girl he sees in me. She’s so beautiful, too, it reminded me of that saying: Beauty is truth, truth beauty, which sounds great, right? The catch is no one ever said truth is easy to look at.

  TUESDAY, MAY 24, 2011

  (SEVEN WEEKS LATER)

  1:35 PM

  Cloud porn. We were driving to the playground, because Melody was dying to go to the playground, and just before we got there, she looked out the window and she goes, Look! Cloud porn, and I just started laughing, thinking, Oh, here we go again. Because we’d seen it on Flickr, something about the best Cloud Porn photos or whatever, and Mel got on a roll with it; Oh, look: tree porn! Oh, look: squirrel porn! Oh, look: cookie porn!

  But you knew about porn before that, right? I asked, and Knox’s head turned so fast, I’m surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. Not you. Mel, I said. Mel, where did you hear about porn? I said, and Knox balked: Excuse me, and Mel ignored him: Nickelodeon, she said. I laughed, turning around in my seat to face her. What, you never heard of kiddy porn? she asked, and I bonked my head against the seat back, laughing. No, seriously, though, I asked, and I could feel Knox’s jaw lock shut, preparing something to say if the conversation went any further. Only everywhere—I watch TV, you know, she said. I know I live in a bubble, but I still hear things. I have ears, Thee. I know you do, I said, I’m sorry, just as we pulled into the parking lot.

  So we got out and pushed Mel over to a bench, beneath a tree, and Knox and I sat down on each side, with her chair backed up against the bench, between us. You know what? Mel said, and I go, What’s that?, watching a kid fall into the sand. She goes, I want to sit in the grass, and I was like, The grass? looking down. She goes, Yes. I want to sit in the grass. You won’t get hurt, she said, and I looked at her, ha-ha. She wants to sit in the grass, I told Knox, because he was waiting. Where, here? Knox asked, same reaction I had, right. Mel goes, What is wrong with you people? You can sit in the grass, and you’d rather sit on a bench? she asked. All right, all right, I said.

  We’d been looking at pictures all week; Melody had this huge folder of pictures of girls lying in flowers and grass, and she said it was something she wanted to do, too, to lie in the grass and stare at the clouds like a real girl. I should be able to do that much—I mean, you don’t have to move, right? she said, and I rolled my eyes at her. So Knox got up to push her, and we walked over to the nicest part of grass we could find. It didn’t look all green and beautiful like the pictures she’d chosen, but it was as close as we were going to get, and it was shaded. Knox started to spread out a blanket for us, getting down on his knees, smoothing it out, but then Mel said, Not on a blanket, Dad, I want to feel it. So I told him, She doesn’t want a blanket, she wants to feel the grass, and he pursed his lips. I don’t know, he said, and then Mel goes, You two are such sissies. It’s grass, she said, and I translated, raising my right hand: You are such a sissy, Knox: it’s grass.

  He looked at us, sighing, and then smiled, knowing he was being silly. He started folding up the blanket again, and then he said, Screw it, throwing it over his arm, before unfastening Melody. She never let me help with this part, she didn’t even like me to look, so I turned away, while he picked her up. Even though the truth is, every time I see him do that, even out of the corner of my eye, I try to remember the last time my dad picked me up and carried me, but I can never remember when that was.

  Knox set her down, and he goes, Is that okay? making sure her face was in the shade. Then Mel goes, Lie down with me, Thee, so I did, scooching myself backward, putting my head next to hers. Then I go, You know what, Mel? and Knox turned, looking at us. Here, I said, grabbing my camera. You want to try? And she goes, How? You know I can’t move, she said, and I hated that fear in her voice. No, I didn’t hate it, but I had to put a stop to it. Easy, I said: you tell me when, and I’ll push our fingers down. Let’s try, so you can feel it, just once? I asked, and she smiled, giving in.

  I pointed the camera upward, and then I took her right hand, curling her index finger and thumb around the lens. I moved it back and forth so she could see and feel the movement, and I told her to tell me when to stop, when the picture looked right. Stop, she said, and I peeked, and it was right. Now, tell me when to take the shot, I said, feeling a breeze start, and she waited, and then she goes, Now! Then I pressed as fast as I could. Look, I said, showing her, and it was good. Way better than my first picture, I said.

  I leaned up, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw this kid with a backpack, and I was like, Oh, hey, it’s Ricky. So I called out: Ricky! And I waved at him, and he turned, so I waved him over. Hey, he said, looking a little suspicious—I don’t know if it was us or Knox, but probably Knox. Ricky stepped closer, and I said, What’s up? And then Mel goes, Who’s this? And I go, Oh, sorry, Ricky, this is Mel. Mel, this is Ricky. And this, I said, meaning Knox, not sure what to call him, and Knox said hello, as suspicious of Ricky as I’ve ever seen him of anyone. What are you doing? I said, and Ricky shrugged. I had to take some books back to the library for my brother. Oh, I said, smiling, not sure what else to say.

  He’s kinda cute, Mel said, and I almost started laughing in front of him. Well, see you around, Ricky said, and I said, See you later, and he walked away. Knox looked at me, and I sort of slapped Mel for making me laugh. What? He’s cute, don’t you think? I said, You think so? And she goes, Totally! And did you see how he was looking at me? He wants me, she said, and I busted out laughing. He’s not popular, is he? she asked. Not really, but he’s cool, I said. Thankfully, Knox’s phone rang and it must have been work, because he got up to answer it, walking away.

  Is he a loser? she asked. He’s more popular than I am, I said. Well, that’s not saying much, is it? Ha-ha-ha, I said, pinching her arm, and she said, Are you friends? Kinda, I said, shrugging, and she said, Tell me, and I said, We used to hang out last year, after everything went down with that party, you know? Like you hung out at your house? she asked, so inquisitive. No, no. At school. Lunchtime, the library—. Why doesn’t he have any friends? He has friends, I said. But? But he’s got epilepsy, I said, and I could tell she wasn’t going to drop it, so I told her the whole story.

  Right after I moved to town, he had a really bad seizure, standing right in line in the cafeteria. He had a full tray and the food went flying everywhere and people started yelling—I’ll never forget seeing him fall down, and… no one knew what to do. Someone said he had to put a belt or something between his teeth—. That’s not true, she said. That’s totally false—you can strangle someone having a seizure if you block their airway, she said, genuinely upset. I know, I said. Ricky told us afterward. I mean, after we started talking. It was humiliating for him, you know, I said, and it was the first time I realized why he and I had so much in common. And I didn’t tell her this, but it was the first time it crossed my mind, and I don’t know why, but it’s so much easier to be sympathetic of someone else’s shame than your own. Mel, how do you know that about epilepsy? I asked, and she said, Drrr. I’ve spent more time in hospitals than you have, remember. Anyhow, he’s hot, and I snorted, watching Knox kneel back down to sit with us. Knox looked at us, shaking his head the way he does, inside, without moving on the outside. We should get going soon, girls, he said. Think my dad would let me go out on a date? With Ricky? I said, and out of the blue, Knox goes, No. Both our mouths fell open, and we just looked at him—he didn’t know exactly what we were talking about, but he knew something and he wasn’t having any of it.

  It was such a good day, I
forgot all about Cam for like three hours—well, two maybe. On the way home, Mel goes, Thee, Thee! Play him our song, play my dad our song, and I turned to Knox and I go, We have a song, me and Mel, Our Song. You want to hear Our Song? I said, and Mel started laughing. Knox goes, You two have a song? I go, You bet we do, then I plugged in my iPod, and pulled it up. Ready, Mel? I said, and she goes, Born ready! I started laughing, and then I hit play, and I turned to face Mel, so she could see me dance, shimmying my shoulders, right when it kicked in: Buht, buhn… buh-nuh-but-nuht-nuht! Sweet sixteen in leather boots! Body and soul, I go crazy! Knox pulled over.

  I’m not kidding: Knox pulled over, on the side of the road, and I looked at him and said, Chill, Daddy, chill! Then, all choppy, he goes, What the hell is that? I told him, That’s Iggy, Knox—Sixteen, get it? We’re going to be sixteen, that’s why it’s Our Song? And Mel goes, Ohmygod, Dad, this song’s only like fifty years old, and I go, Seriously, Mel loves the Stooges, and Knox goes, No. Oh, no, no, like he’s putting his foot down, and Mel goes, He’d rather I listened to Foreigner, and I gasped. My mouth fell open, and I said, Knox, you don’t honestly listen to Foreigner, do you? He turned to the backseat, knowing exactly who told me, but still, I was so embarrassed, I had to cover my face, blushing. I go, Ohmygod, that’s like worse than finding out your dad watches porn, and Mel goes, Don’t even get me started. And I looked at Knox, like, Eww. I said, Please tell me you don’t listen to the Indigo Girls and watch porn at the same time, and his chin fell open, and I said, I’m sorry, but that’s disgusting.

  Mel goes, Come on, Thee, sing it with me: I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me…. I had to stop laughing before I could sing that line with her, because that’s all I knew, and then it hit me again. I keep reaching out, wanting to share these things, these moments, with Cam, and I keep getting bitch-slapped by reality. I shut my mouth while Knox pulled back on the highway, and Mel goes, Thee, you okay? I nodded, but I didn’t turn around. She goes, You want to talk? I shook my head no, oh, no. Knox looked at me, I could see him looking at me, and then he looked in the rearview. Just then, we reached the turnoff to my building, and I could see a couple news vans—I saw the satellite dish on a news van, and I said, Pull over.

  I still forget—I keep forgetting anyone knows, that anyone cares, about reporters, waiting around our building. Then, for a split second, when I see them there, I still can’t believe it’s happening, that there are all these people waiting to take my picture, ask me questions, you know? But as soon as I saw them, I said, Stop. Knox saw them too, at the same moment. Let me out here, I said. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine, I said, and I didn’t say it, but he knew. I didn’t want him to drive any closer to our house because Mel was in the car. I didn’t want her to see this, all these people, waiting for me to show up. What’s up? she said, and she couldn’t see them, but she knew something was going on. I’m getting out here, I said, as Knox pulled over, off the highway, but he didn’t turn in.

  Here? Why here? Mel asked, and I turned around. I smiled, trying to let her know it was okay, even though it wasn’t. Because, I said, and I started to say something, but I didn’t even know what I was going to say. I’ll tell you later, okay? It’s nothing, but I just don’t want to get into it right now. Please? I said, and she didn’t like it, but she listened. Of course I knew she’d be angry that I was trying to protect her the same way Knox was always trying to protect her. The way that didn’t let you live life, that treated you like a child, or worse, in her case, an invalid. It’s not fair, I know. Then again, in this case, in this situation, that’s how it had to be. And I know Knox wanted to walk me to my door, but Mel had to come first, and we both knew it.

  So I got out, on the side of the road, and I waved good-bye, waiting for them to leave before I took my phone out to call my mom, heading upstairs, taking the back way. There was nothing she could do to make them go away, but it was something for me to focus on, when I walked into the building. If they saw my mom there, sometimes people were better behaved, but they would still ask me anything they want, whether my mom was there or not. Like, Are there more sex tapes, Thea? How do you feel about being called a teenage porn star? Do you think your boyfriend’s dead?

  Sometimes, the storm’s worse inside than outside. When Mom opened the door for me, I got inside, and what did I see? The lawyers—the lawyers were back again, sitting on our couch. I looked at my mom, disgusted, and before I could say anything, the man goes, Hello, Thea. You mother called to discuss the video, from the party last year. I go, What’s there to discuss? He goes, Do you intend to press charges? I go, Press charges? He said, Whether or not you decide to press criminal charges, the DA—. No, I said, and my mom goes, Thea, that’s not up to you, and I go, Leave me alone, all of you! I yelled, then I went to my room and slammed the door.

  I felt it again, building up, the pressure, it kept building. I had to fight it—I couldn’t let it win. I couldn’t go back, I didn’t want to go back. Then I heard myself, realizing I spoke out loud: Please, I said. Please? I didn’t know who I was talking to, but I said, Please help me. Because I didn’t want to go back ever again, but I didn’t have any energy left to fight.

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2010

  (FOUR MONTHS EARLIER)

  5:13 PM

  I’d never had a boyfriend before, so I had no idea how stressful it was, the whole gift thing. I mean, at first, I didn’t really think about it, because, well, I didn’t think it would last more than a couple weeks, and then Cam would want to see other people. So I never thought about Christmas, until Black Friday, and then, seeing all the commercials on TV, I was just like, Oh, shit. Guess maybe I should get it together, huh? And once I started thinking about it, I thought of a thousand things he’d love. Only problem was, I didn’t have any money. And even if I wanted to, there was no work anymore—there weren’t even babysitting jobs around here anymore. So, basically, there was nothing I could afford to buy him, and after a couple weeks, it put me in a mood.

  Every day we got closer to Christmas, the more it bummed me out—showed, too. One day, after school, I got so worked up about it that we almost had a fight. I mean, not a fight-fight, but we were sitting in our booth at Silver Top, one day, and Cam’s like, All right, enough with the attitude and mopey face, Thee. Seriously, what’s the problem? So I just told him, Look, I’m sorry, but I’m stressed out about Christmas, because I don’t know what to get you, since I don’t have any money to get you anything, and—. He cut me off, and then he goes, This is what you’ve been pouting about? I go, I haven’t been pouting, and I cocked my head, and he goes, You’ve been a bit prickly, Thee. I was like, Cam, what do you expect? I’m stressed, okay. I told you. Cam goes, This is what you’ve been stressed about? I said, Yes, and he goes, I thought you hated Christmas? And I said, I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend money I don’t have like everyone else, and that got him. He laughed, sitting back.

  Come on, Thee, let’s just forget about Christmas, and instead, how about you stop moping and getting all stressed out about what you can’t get me that I don’t really need anyhow? I said no. No, I said, shaking my head, no way, out of the question. Why not? he said, and I said, Because, and he said, Because why? So I told him, Because I’ve never had a boyfriend, and it’s my first Christmas with my first boyfriend, and I’ve never had anyone special to get stressed out about, and I want to get you something really excellent, just so unbelievably fucking cool you remember it for the rest of your life, that’s why! Duh, I said, really practically kicking my foot against the opposite side of the booth, pushing myself back into my seat, folding my arms.

  Cam looked at me for a moment, seeing I wasn’t kidding, and he goes, Okay. Listen, he said, you know those times when you say you don’t understand why I think you’re crazy and you want me to name one time you were ever crazy? Well, this is one of those times, he said, leaning over the table, reaching for my hands—making a joke out of it, right? It’s not funny, I said, t
urning away. Good. Because I wasn’t joking, Thee, he said, sitting back, and I looked at him, totally unamused. Hey, how about this? How about we celebrate Christmas by not giving any gifts? How about our gift is no gift, meaning the gift of no stress? Because right now, I think that sounds like a perfect gift, he said. No, I said, shaking my head no, no, that’s not okay. And he goes, Then why don’t you draw something for me, give me one of your pictures—. Cam, I give you drawings and pictures all the time, that’s not special! I whined, and he looked at me. And the look in his eyes said so many things; there was no need to open his mouth.

  I mean, of course it’s special, I said, apologetically, and he goes, What about the picture you took last week? I hate that picture, I said, like no way, and he goes, I love that picture, and I go, Why? He goes, Because you aren’t posing, you aren’t self-conscious, you’re just you—it’s gorgeous. And I was so flattered, so touched he said that, but still. No way, I said. And he goes, Why is it always about you? He was joking, and then Sharon came over to our booth to check on us. Fill ’er up, honey? she said, seeing Cam’s empty glass. Sharon loves Cam, and he knows it, too. Thanks, Sharon, he said, pushing his empty extralarge brown plastic diner glass over. You betcha, hon, she said. Thea, you doing all right? I’m fine, thanks, I said, smiling. All right, then, she said, leaving us alone again.

  Cam leaned forward, grabbed both my hands, and he goes, You’re serious about this? Do I not look serious to you? I asked, and he goes, Well, then. If you really want to give me something special—. Then I totally cut him and his dirty mind off; I go, Oh, here we go, slouching in the booth, my arms still crossed, biting my tongue between my incisors. Because I’ll tell you exactly what I want, he said, and I was trying so hard not to laugh, not to smile, pulling away, like, get your dirty brain and your filthy hands off me.