When the hot cocoa is done,
I put marshmallows in.
I stir slowly,
watching them melt
into each other.
I think of Jackson.
His touch,
his kisses,
and the way he looked at me,
with eyes like a green ocean.
I take a sip,
and the cocoa’s so hot
it burns my tongue.
Hot.
Cold.
Hot.
Cold.
I shiver.
“Jackson?”
Smells Like Sandalwood
I spin
around
and around
and around
like a top on a wooden floor.
“Where are you?
Show me you’re here.
Please?”
I stop.
I stand still.
I wait.
There is just enough light
from the full moon
shining through the
kitchen window.
The white, frilly curtains
move slightly.
Shifting.
Fluttering.
And then I smell
the smell that was all
Jackson,
because he kept that head
and beautiful face
so well shaven.
Sandalwood
shaving
cream.
Music Says It All
I sit down
at the kitchen table
and I whisper,
like he is sitting
right across from me.
“Jackson, I know it’s you.
I’m not scared.
Maybe I should be, but I’m not.
Whatever you need to do to talk to me,
in your own way, is okay.
I’m not scared.
“Can I see you?
I want to see you.”
Nothing happens.
I ask him, “Don’t ghosts or spirits or whatever
sometimes show themselves?”
And then
the CD player
on the kitchen counter
starts to play.
3 Doors Down.
Here By Me.
Skinless
The music’s loud.
It makes me
jump
right out of my skin.
I run over
and turn it down.
As I do,
I see the slightest reflection
of Jackson
on the stainless steel fridge.
“Oh, God.
It’s really you.
Jackson.
You’re here.”
I feel him
move closer to me.
The smell of him
fills me up.
It makes the hairs
on my arms
stand up straight.
“Can I touch you?” I whisper.
No answer.
I guess,
in order to
touch,
there has to be skin,
which a ghost
doesn’t have.
I Can Hear You
There’s
a murmur
inside my brain,
so quiet,
I have to close my eyes tight
and really concentrate
to hear it.
Ava,
I’m here.
I can’t talk this way often.
It’s hard to get my thoughts
through to you.
Just know
I love you,
and I’m not going to leave you.
Dancing in the Moonlight
I whisper back.
“I understand.
You don’t have to talk.
You don’t have to do anything.
Just you being here
is enough.
I’m so glad you’re here, Jackson.”
I have more I want to say.
But not now.
Now is the time
to just be together.
“Dance with me,” I whisper.
I get up, and sway to the music.
My eyes are closed.
I imagine him there,
with me in the moonlight,
hugging me,
caressing me,
loving me.
And I know
with all of my
Jackson-loving heart
that’s exactly
what he’s doing.
But then
the music turns off
and the room
warms up.
He’s gone.
Trust Me
A few seconds later,
Mom appears.
She flicks on the light
and I squint my eyes
at the brightness.
“Ava?
Are you okay?
I thought I heard music.
Were you playing music?”
“Sorry, Mom.
I came down to have cocoa.
I turned the CD player on.
Sorry it woke you up.”
She reaches out
and hugs me.
“Why are you shaking?” she asks.
“Did I scare you?”
There’s no way I can tell her.
“I guess a little.
But I’m okay.
Ready for bed.”
She keeps her arm
around me
and we go upstairs
together.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asks
when we get to my room.
I smile.
“Better than ever.”
The Next Morning
What if it was
just
a
dream?
Lovely Lemons
I wait all day,
wandering the house,
but there is no sign
of him.
If he said he isn’t going to leave me,
why does it seem like
he’s left me?
Maybe being a ghost is
more complicated
than I understand.
I make fresh lemonade,
squeezing the lemons
Mom brought home
yesterday.
Lemons are one of
my favorite things.
Luscious
and juicy,
they remind me
of Jackson’s
kisses.
I remember the time
we went out for dessert.
He had chocolate cake.
I had a lemon tart.
“You have lemon,” Jackson said,
“in the corner of your mouth.
Let me get it for you.”
And just like that
he leaned in
and kissed me,
his tongue gently licking
the lemon
away.
That’s how it was with us.
Comfortable.
Easy.
So. Incredibly. Wonderful.
I add sugar,
water,
and ice cubes
to the juice
in the pitcher.
When I take a drink,
it tastes
sweet and sour
like it should be.
My heart feels
sweet and sour too.
Is that how it should be?
And then,
when the coolness
sweeps over me,
giving me goose bumps,
and I know he has returned,
everything is oh, so
sweet.
A Gift
Dad comes home.
“Angel,” he says, hugging me.
He breaks away
to tell me
what I already knew.
“I’m sorry.
What a rotten time for me to be gone.”
I know he’s been worried about me.
He’s called almost every day.
“I’m okay, Dad.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He reaches down,
unzips his suitcase,
and pulls out a bag.
“I brought you some perfume.
They say Paris makes the best, you know.”
I take it out of the bag.
A shiny, gold sun
caps the bottle.
I unscrew the sun
and take a whiff.
“I figured you could use a little sunshine about now,” he tells me.
I hug him again.
“Thanks, Dad.
I’m glad you’re home.”
Life with a Ghost
Jackson seems
to be afraid
to come around
if my parents
are with me.
I guess if they knew
about him,
it would be really strange.
Dad sticks
close to me.
We talk a lot
and share ice cream
after dinner.
Finally,
I retreat
to my room.
There’s a note
on my mirror
written
in toffee lipstick.
Ava
is
beautiful.
Ava
is
good.
Ava
is
mine.
I put the lipstick
on my lips
and give the mirror
a big, fat
kiss.
Not a Pity Party
Saturday morning,
Zoe calls.
“I’m having a pool party tonight,” she says.
“Will you come?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ava, I miss you.
Please come.”
I tell her I’ll call her back.
I need to think about it.
“Who was that?” Mom asks.
“Zoe.
She’s having a pool party tonight.”
“Sounds like fun. You should go.”
“But—”
I don’t finish my sentence.
I can’t say,
But I’d rather stay home and hang out with Jackson.
Because he’s here,
and maybe we’ll make hot cocoa together
or something.
Hard to Say Yes
“But what, honey?” Mom asks.
She’s pouring herself
a glass of lemonade.
“Can I have some of that?” I ask.
I watch the yellow liquid
splash into the glass,
so free and sure of itself.
Zoe calls again.
“You have to come.
Nick’s brother’s band is going to play.
It’ll be so great.
S’il vous plaît?”
Mom begs me with her eyes.
Zoe begs me with her words.
“Okay.”
Zoe
Cali and I
met Zoe and Jessa
in French class,
freshman year.
We were
grouped together,
and our assignment
was to make
a French dessert
to share with the class.
We went to Zoe’s house
because her dad
is a chef
and he wanted to help us.
Except we were
so giggly
and so here
and there
and everywhere
in the kitchen,
he left us alone
to make our
soufflé au chocolat.
The first one
was a flop
because we burnt
the chocolate.
But Zoe said,
“Like Napoleon,
we will not give up!”
The second time,
we were focused
and worked together,
like soldiers in an army,
battling the double boiler
with all our might.
Our soufflé au chocolat
turned out
magnifique.
I love a lot of things
about Zoe,
but I especially love
how she doesn’t give up.
Zoe is
très magnifique.
Am I Suited for This?
I pull out the bikini.
The one Jackson bought me.
The one I wore that day.
I can’t wear it.
I won’t wear it.
Never
ever
again.
I should throw it away.
But Jackson gave it to me.
It’s the last thing he gave me.
So I’ll keep it.
But I won’t wear it.
I pull out last year’s suit
that’s faded
from the sun
and the chlorine
and not nearly as cute
as the black-and-pink one
from Jackson.
Who cares.
It’s not like I’m trying
to look hot
for a guy
or anything.
I’m just going because—
Wait a minute.
Why am I going?
Beauty Everywhere
I sit in the corner
watching
the swimmers
the dancers
the smoochers
the gabbers
the drinkers
the smokers.
“Come in, Ava,” Cali yells from the pool.
“We need you!” Zoe cries.
I raise my drink in the air.
But I don’t move.
I stay right
where I feel
I belong.
The sun starts to set
and tangerine orange
turns to
cotton candy pink
and I wish
my man
Jackson was here
to give me some
cranberry red love.
“Ava,” I hear
in a deep voice
I recognize.
It’s Nick.
Imagine that.
The boy
who won’t leave me
alone.
“Hey,” I say.
“You look lonely over here by yourself.”
I point
to the orange-and-pink sky.
“Isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Yeah. It is.”
You Can’t Go Back
“So what’s the deal, Nick?
You stalking me?”
He laughs. “No. Just worried about you.
That’s all.”
“Well, please don’t worry about me.
I’m fine.”
I think of Jackson
at home,
where I might see him
again tonight.
I smile.
Wait.
Does Jackson follow me?
Does he know what’s happening here?
Will he be pissed I’m talking to Nick?
No.
I’d feel him if he were here.
Wouldn’t I?
“It’s good to see you,” Nick says.
“I’ve missed you.
I look back and wonder
how I could have been so crazy
to let you go.
”
“Let me go?
You cheated on me, Nick.
I cut you loose.”
“So if I got up the nerve to ask you out again,
and promised to be good,
would you even consider saying yes?”
I stand up
and hand him the empty glass.
“Not in a million sunsets, Nick.”
Cold Shoulder
When I get home,
it’s late.
And the house is
freaking
freezing.
It feels like
I live
in an igloo.
I grab a blanket from the closet
and wrap it around my shoulders.
I head to the kitchen.
Every
single
cupboard
door
is open.
“Jackson,” I whisper.
“I’m home.”
The CD player turns on.
My stomach does
a somersault.
I listen,
trying to
place it.
Got it.
Don’t Leave Me
by Green Day.
Freaky Saturday
“Are you mad at me for going?”
No response.
Although I don’t know
what kind of response
I expected
exactly.
“Jackson, I can’t stay home all the time.
“Besides, Mom and Dad would get suspicious
if I never went anywhere.
“I don’t want them to know about you and me.
“They’d think I’m crazy.”
All the cupboard doors
slam shut
at the
exact
same time.
Now my stomach
does a
backhand flip.
Messing with Me
“I’m going to bed,
Jackson.
I’m tired.
Good night.”
I walk up the stairs.
I feel him
following me.
I tremble
as I feel cold air,
or is it breath,
on the back
of my neck.
I open the door to my room
and gasp.
My panties
and bras
and socks
and nighties
have been flung
all over
my room.
That’s My Boy
I stand there for a minute
and then
I close the door
and smile.
My smile turns into
giggles.
I belly flop
onto my bed,
splashing panties
everywhere.
This is so Jackson.
He gets mad.
He throws a little tantrum.
We laugh about it.
I remember
the time
I decided to go
to the day spa
with my girlfriends
instead of hanging
with him.
I Heart You, You Haunt Me Page 3