We Are the Ghosts

by Vicky Skinner

  I just look down at the floor. I don’t even know why I brought it up. There are no answers anymore, no magical ways to cope, no seminar on how to deal with a scenario in which your brother dies a year after he completely abandoned you. I’m certainly not going to find what I need here.

  I set my still-full glass on the bar and tuck my hands into my back pockets. “I should probably go. I have people waiting on me.”

  He nods, and I can’t tell if he’s looking at me because he’s pulled his sunglasses back down over his eyes.

  But when I turn to leave, he says, “Hey!”

  I turn back around, and he’s got one hand extended toward me, like he can physically stop me, even though there’s so much distance between us.

  “When I said what I did, what I meant was, how you feel about someone who dies, it doesn’t change what they did when they were alive, and it’s certainly not going to change anything after. You can’t take anything back. You know?”

  He sounds so hesitant, like he’s not sure he’s saying the right thing, and I don’t know how to tell him that there is no right thing.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Outside, the sun is setting, and it’s like I just stepped out of an alternate dimension. What happened in the bar behind me doesn’t feel real, and I don’t know how I could possibly explain to anyone that it was.

  “Ellie!”

  I look up and see Gwen, Wes, and Cade, all of them waving their arms wildly in my direction from across the street, and I stand there for just a second, letting the cars pass by between us, before I take a step toward them.

  * * *

  “I still can’t believe you met Jack Olsen. And that you wouldn’t let us go in after you,” Wes says, and Gwen groans.

  “I think you have to let it go,” she says, glancing out the window as houses fly by outside.

  “I couldn’t let you ambush him,” I tell Wes for the tenth time. “It was bad enough that I approached him while he was trying to be low-key.”

  “It’s this one,” Cade says as Wes slows in front of a house. The car falls silent, and I can feel Cade’s eyes on me as I look at the little white house we’re parked in front of, quite a ways from the house next door, on land that stretches back and disappears into a thicket of trees. The house looks new, at least with a fresh coat of paint on the wooden slats.

  When I glance up at Gwen, she’s watching me. Sad, that’s the expression she’s wearing, and I know we’ve ruined whatever easiness she might have been feeling before. Now, her mind is on Luke and what he did to her.

  Wes raps on the steering wheel and looks at Cade over his shoulder. “So what makes you so confident that your grandma didn’t just call them the second she realized you were missing?”

  Cade’s eyes are on the house. I see a figure move in one of the front windows, and it startles me.

  “Well, that’s the thing,” Cade says, and I hear the hesitation in his voice. “I haven’t actually seen my aunt and uncle since I was a kid. There’s always been sort of a, um, rift between them and my grandmother, so there’s no way my grandmother would have called them. She’d never think I would come here.”

  I look over at him slowly. “But they know we’re coming, right?”

  He sends me a look, and that’s my answer.

  We’re halfway out of the car when the door of the house springs open and a woman steps out onto the porch, her hand up to block her eyes from what’s left of the sun’s rays. She frowns and then takes another step in our direction.

  “Cade? Is that you?”

  Cade freezes, his hand clutching the open car door. “Um. Hi, Aunt Sam.”

  Sam’s eyes go wide, and she’s still making her way slowly down the porch steps toward us when the door flies open again, and a small figure shoots out of the house and onto the porch. Sam catches the person before they barrel off the porch steps, and I realize it’s a little girl wriggling in her arms. Together, they finally get to us at the car.

  Sam’s a young Asian woman, with dark eyes that seem to inspect us all, even while her daughter, who looks just like her, bounces around in her arms. Sam bites her lip and smiles at all of us as Gwen and Wes get out of the car.

  “Are you really here?” she asks Cade, her voice full of wonder, and I can’t believe that this is the first time Cade is seeing his aunt since he moved to Texas when he was nine. What kind of rift would make people not want to see their family?

  “Who are you?” the little girl asks, and Sam rolls her eyes.

  “Everyone, this is Laney. And I’m Sam. Laney, this is your cousin, Cade. We’ve told you about him.”

  Laney nods. “You live in Texas, with the horses. Where’s your cowboy hat?”

  Cade grins at her. “Not many horses where we come from.”

  “You’re Cade’s aunt?” Gwen asks, walking around the car to shake the woman’s hand, and I can’t tell if she’s trying to diffuse the tension or if she’s just unable to let the politeness of introducing herself pass her by.

  Sam blinks at her before extending her hand. “I am. Well, you sure are pretty.”

  Cade clears his throat. “Sam, this is Gwen and Wes, and um…” He gestures toward me. The car still sits between me and everyone else, and they all turn to look at me. “This is Ellie.”

  Cade’s aunt’s eyes find me, and she smiles bigger. “It’s so nice to meet all of you.” Her smile falters, and she looks over at Cade. “But what are you doing here? I mean, of course, I’m glad you’re here, and James will be so—”

  “Is he here?” Cade’s eyes travel past Sam, toward the house, but if James—who I assume is Cade’s uncle—is here, he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to see who’s come to visit.

  Sam shakes her head. “No. He’s at work.”

  Laney rolls her eyes dramatically. “Daddy’s always at work. Can I try on your sunglasses?” She’s switched gears so fast that we all just stare at one another for a second before we realize that she’s talking to Wes, who’s got on a dark pair of sunglasses.

  “Laney, stop,” Sam says, swatting at her daughter’s hand, but Wes rushes to take them off and hand them to her.

  “I have a few pairs in the glove box. Sensitive eyes.”

  Laney nods like what he’s saying is very serious and then puts the glasses on. She’s only about five, and Wes’s sunglasses are comically big on her, sliding off one ear so that they sit crooked on her face.

  “It’s so dark,” she says, and I look at Sam, who’s looking at Cade, and I feel so awkward standing here, showing up on the doorstep of someone who didn’t even know we were coming. Why didn’t we just stay in a hotel, instead of coming to these people?

  “We should talk,” Sam says. “I just made dinner. Sandwiches. I hope everyone is okay with tomato basil soup.”

  “Sounds great,” Cade says and follows her up the path to the house.

  * * *

  The house is the kind you might expect on a prime-time sitcom: framed pictures of the family of three, smiling, hung on sunflower- yellow walls; a spotless hardwood floor, decorated by colorful rugs; a recliner from which I’m sure Cade’s uncle watches the Super Bowl or the World Series or March Madness; the scent of lavender in the air, probably coming from the candles lit in every room we walk through.

  The tomato basil soup is still warm and delicious when we’re served, which doesn’t surprise me because I can’t imagine that fresh food would ever dare go cold in Sam’s kitchen. She’s the kind of person who has a KitchenAid mixer on the counter, but the bowl isn’t sitting in its spot, ready to be used, because it’s already been used recently. The clock above the stove is a wooden knife and fork.

  “Cade, I’m glad you’re here,” Sam begins, lacing her fingers in front of her. She’s already had her bowl of soup and a chicken-salad sandwich. I’m savoring mine. “But I’m confused. What’s going on?”

  When Cade looks at his aunt, I see something in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. It’s almost like he’s embarr
assed, like he’s not sure what to say. Cade always knows what to say. “I’ve wanted to visit for a long time. But James and Grandma—”

  “I know.” I see the way Sam deflates a little, and I suddenly feel like I’m intruding on a private moment, some secret family drama that I shouldn’t be witnessing. “James, he—” She cuts herself off, her eyes traveling over the three of us, the intruders, and then back to Cade. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this right now.”

  I blush. I don’t know if it’s just that we’re not family or that she doesn’t trust us with whatever happened in their past that kept Cade from ever seeing them, but it doesn’t matter because Cade agrees and falls silent.

  At the head of the table, little Laney dances in her seat excitedly, her small hand wrapped around a big spoon as she tries to eat soup without coating her shirt with it. “Are you going to live with us?”

  I expect Sam’s cheery demeanor to endure, but her face twists in a strange way. “No, sweetie. Cade isn’t staying.”

  Wes and Gwen glance at each other across the table but stay quiet. I watch Cade. His neck goes red and then his ears. “Actually, that’s kind of why we’re here. We’re on this trip, sort of a big blowout before senior year, and it would be great if we could crash here tonight.” The tiny lie comes out so naturally I wonder if that’s what he believed about this trip before I told him the truth.

  Gwen’s wide eyes shoot to me, and I feel a little bit of the panic that’s written all over her face. After our awkward greeting and this silent, tense dinner, it doesn’t feel right to stay here. It doesn’t feel like we’re welcome. This isn’t what we expected at all.

  “We don’t have to stay,” I say, putting my hand out on the table, like I can put a halt to this whole thing with one gesture. “We’ve been staying in hotels, so it’s not like one more is going to be a problem.” When Cade said we could stay here, I thought he’d arrange it. Or at the very least, I thought he knew the people we were going to be staying with. But they haven’t seen each other in eight years?

  Sam is already shaking her head. “Oh, no. We have plenty of room for all of you. Please, stay.”

  When Cade looks at me, I feel like he reads my mind. He knows exactly what I’m thinking because he sends me a look, his eyebrows puckered in and his mouth pressed tight. And I know that even though I’m uncomfortable, even though I can see the stress in the way Wes’s eyebrows crinkle and Gwen’s mouth makes a little O, Cade needs to be here. We need to stay, even if it doesn’t make sense.

  “Okay,” I say, despite Wes’s foot finding mine beneath the table and giving it a nudge. “Yes. We’ll stay.”

  Sam smiles, and she looks tired. “We’ve got a guest room we can set up for the girls, and Laney’s room and the couch are open for the boys.”

  Cade shakes his head. “No way. Let Laney keep the room. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  Sam scoffs and waves him off. “Absolutely not. She sleeps with us half the time anyway. I’ll just throw some blankets on the couch and get clean linens for Laney’s bed.” She sighs, but not in an unpleasant way, and looks at Laney. “Laney, sweetie. Bedtime.”

  “No,” Laney whines. “I want to stay up for the party.”

  “There’s no party, baby.” Sam strokes her daughter’s hair, and I don’t miss the way Cade looks away, almost like the affection makes him uncomfortable. “It’s past your bedtime, and I won’t be dealing with a cranky kiddo in the morning. We need to get you to bed.” She looks at each of us with a smile. “I’ll just get her settled.”

  She’s not gone a second before Wes lets out a whistle. “I feel like I just walked into Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.”

  Cade shrugs, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, in the way he sits with his hands folded in his lap. “I think it’s nice. I didn’t even know I had a cousin.”

  Gwen purses her lips. “Want some of mine? I have, like, twenty-seven.”

  Cade smiles at her and then yawns. “God, I’m tired. Sorry if, uh, you guys feel weird staying. I’m just sick of hotel beds. I’m not used to sleeping in strange places.”

  We’re all quiet for a long time, and I can feel the exhaustion starting to eat away at me, starting with the backs of my eyeballs and moving all the way to my stomach. I’m queasy with it.

  “Come on,” Cade says, and I open my eyes. I don’t remember shutting them. He’s leaning down over me, his hands on my arms, and I let him help me out of my chair and down the hallway. We pass by a closed bedroom door that must be Sam’s. I hear her and Laney inside, having a conversation, and then we walk right by and into another bedroom, with a queen-size bed in it that I want to let swallow me.

  “This is really nice,” Gwen says, walking in and pressing her hand down into the mattress, covered by miles of comforters and sheets and pillows.

  I turn to say something to Cade, but he’s already stepping back into the hallway and shutting the door, so I join Gwen over by the bed.

  “I could just sleep in my clothes,” she says, yawning. “God, why does spending all day doing nothing make you so tired?”

  I laugh. “We drove over two hundred miles today.”

  Her eyes go wide. “No way. I’ve never been able to measure distance in miles. Isn’t that weird?” She’s rambling now, taking off her shirt and her jeans and fumbling around inside her bag that Sam must have deposited in here when we were helping ourselves to dinner. “I can only measure distance by how long it’ll take me to get there. So if someone tells me that a town is four hours away, that would be far, but if they said it was seventy miles, I have absolutely no clue.” She giggles, and I can’t help but watch her as she slides off her glasses and then climbs between the sheets. She looks like a little girl on a sugar crash.

  I change and get in beside her, and I’m pretty sure she’s asleep by the time I turn off the lamp on the nightstand beside me. I’m starting to sink, starting to let sleep take me, when Gwen speaks, low and quiet, startling me awake.

  “Are you mad at me?” I can’t see her face in the dark, only the outline of her as my eyes adjust to the darkness.

  I blink over at her, confused. “Why would I be mad at you?” If anyone should be angry, it’s Gwen, not just at Luke for all the things he did, but at Wes and at me. But she doesn’t even know how angry she should be at us. She doesn’t know she has reason to be. Guilt churns inside me. I hate that she’s so worried she might have upset me when I’ve been lying to her this whole time.

  She burrows down into the thick blanket, pulling it up to her chin. “Because I didn’t tell you about what Luke did. Or because, I don’t know, because of Wes?”

  “Because of Wes?” I feel a little jolt of surprise at hearing her mention him. Why would I be mad at her and Wes? Is there more I don’t know about, or does she know something about this trip that I don’t know she knows? All these secrets are making me dizzy.

  She nods. “Because we’re together?”

  “Oh.” That isn’t what I expected at all. Does she expect me to tell her that she did something wrong? At what point after someone has vanished from your life do you assume they’re not coming back? How long did Gwen wait after Luke was gone before moving on? Does it even matter? He dumped her. “Definitely not mad.” Confused, maybe. But not mad.

  She chews on her lip, shifts onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “He knew I wasn’t over Luke. He was so patient with me. And now…” she trails off.

  I’m motionless. I can’t figure out why she’s telling me this, what reason she has to dredge this all up now, when the waters are already so muddy. But I hear the desperation in her voice, like she’s been waiting to say this for a long time. “And now what?”

  Her voice is even quieter when she speaks again. “And I think I might love him. Is that messed up? He was Luke’s best friend.”

  I’m not surprised when she says it. It’s been there in the way they look at each other, always orbiting each other so subtly. I stare at her silhouette, try
ing to see this through her eyes. Luke left her just like he left me. What would I do if I had been with a guy for almost a year and he’d left without a word? If one day he was there and the next he was gone and I had no idea where he was? Even as I try to keep the thought from forming, I imagine if it was Cade. I imagine a reality where we became a couple after that night at the drive-in. If we had, and a year later, he cheated on me and then disappeared, well, I can’t even imagine it.

  “Gwen, you can love whoever you want. No one’s judging you.” I say it, even though I’m not sure it’s entirely true. Maybe people will judge her for being with Wes, but I’m not one of them. “You can’t beat yourself up,” I say, keeping my voice low just in case the walls here are thin. “Luke is—” I feel the words rise in my throat like bile. “Luke is gone. You can’t help who you have feelings for.”

  I thought my words would comfort her, but they seem to make it worse. She presses her face into her pillow and sobs. I panic. I’ve never been good at comforting people when they cry. I’m always just awkward. I immediately start blurting things.

  “I mean, what else were you supposed to do?” I ask her. “Luke just picked up and left without a word to you. And after … after what he did, you can’t honestly think that you were supposed to sit around and—”

  “I think it was because I was satisfied with Eaton,” she says, her voice thick, making absolutely no sense. “I knew he was going to leave, and I knew he was done with me.”

  My stomach twists. “He told you he was leaving?”

  I can’t see her do it, but I feel and hear Gwen shake her head, and for some reason, I’m relieved. It was hard enough knowing that Luke told Wes, and even though I know it’s petty to be jealous of something like this, I don’t think I could stand knowing that he told Gwen, too, without telling me. “No. But I knew something was wrong. I knew he was going to do something. That’s just the way he is. Was.” Her breath stutters and so does my heart. “When I came to the house the day he left, I guess I wasn’t all that surprised to find out that he took off. Mostly, I was just sad. He was acting weird a long time, and then he slept with Margo, and it just felt like he was freaking out. Maybe I saw it coming.”