On the Fringe

by Courtney King Walker

  “Sure, Mom. He was nice. Not my type, though.”

  “Claire, you’ve got to try–”

  There. She’d said it—the one thing I was sick of hearing everyone tell me—that I needed to “try harder,” that my loneliness was all my fault, and if I would just give more guys a chance, I might actually end up liking one. I was so done with that guilt trip.

  “Mom,” I stopped her, sitting up straight.

  She quit mid-sentence, but hesitantly placed her hand on my leg, as if her gesture would make up for what I knew she was thinking about me.

  “Drew wasn’t my type. It had nothing to do with anything. I’m not depressed. I’m not on the verge of suicide or anything. Please don’t lecture me about it again.”

  “I’m sorry, Claire.” Mom stood, apparently annoyed at me as she tucked her rusty brown curls behind her ear and looked toward the lake. I turned away from her, hoping she’d let it drop. “Well, at least you went. That’s better than nothing,” she said, then went back inside and left me alone on the bench with the quiet.

  I dozed off twice because I was too lazy to get up, but finally managed to drag myself inside to bed. An antique clock on top of the tall chest of drawers ticked at me, along with a too-loud chorus of crickets coming in through the open window. I could feel myself drifting, but also kept thinking of Daniel. I wondered where he had gone. Was there some special place where he bided the time? I doubted he slept or ate, or did anything temporal like that…but then again, maybe old habits persisted there, too. Maybe he traveled the world, gliding in and out of all the impossible and forbidden places he always wanted to go like the Middle East or Bangkok. Did he somehow know more now? Was he sad about dying? Is that why he’d returned, or was some great mission preventing his departure?

  My mind eventually drifted away into the mysterious place that captures all of us every night, holding us prisoner until the great sleep ransom has been paid. Tonight, I welcomed imprisonment without resistance, though just before defeat, a single question echoed through my mind like the persistent, ticking clock.

  When will I see Daniel again?

  Daniel

  She was asleep now, though I didn’t watch her through the window or anything. That would probably freak her out. Instead, I hung out on her front porch and stared out at the lake, watching for patterns made by the moonlight. Sometimes I wished to be able to fall asleep again and wake up the next morning, refreshed—eight hours vanished, just like that. Instead, I had to patiently wait the night out minute-by-minute, second-by-second.

  The wind was blowing now, though I couldn’t feel it myself—not even the sense of something pushing on me, or moving a strand of hair. But I still remembered the way it felt on my face. Trying to imagine again, I closed my eyes at the sound of fluted chimes hanging from the eaves of the house next door. They stopped and started over and over again through the night as the breeze hung on.

  These were things I noticed in the absence of living. I couldn’t help it. Details. Maybe if I’d paid more attention when I was alive, Claire would’ve come under my radar sooner than a couple of weeks before I died.

  Chills started climbing up and down my arms and legs like little biting spiders, burning into me so that it almost hurt. I drifted across the grass, then up the street and back again, trying to find another ghost. “I know you’re here,” I called out while hovering over the porch railing, swinging my legs. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  But there was only silence.

  I hadn’t heard from that other ghost since that confrontation in the fog weeks ago. I’d even forgotten about him until now. Hopefully, these goose bumps didn’t mean I was in for a repeat visit.

  “Why don’t you grow up and show yourself, already,” I said to the mysterious intruder while tapping my fingers along the peeling rail, trying to figure out my next move.

  Claire. She was my next move.

  I shifted into her room to make sure she was okay. But there was no need for alarm. She was fine, all curled up in her covers, okay for now, even though the chills kept climbing up my limbs. To be safe, I spent the rest of the night skimming every inch of the dark house, rotating from one room to the next.

  Just before the first speck of sunlight popped up over the horizon, I returned to check on Claire one more time, hovering impatiently in her doorway while brainstorming ways to get rid of an unwanted ghost. What was left of the moonlight drew a soft outline of her elongated shape, making her look so peaceful there as she probably dreamt about normal, safe things not involving ghosts and dead boyfriends. I inhaled unnecessarily, realizing I wanted to hold her and hear her say my name again.

  She sighed and turned to her other side while mumbling something I couldn’t understand. Then she let out a gigantic snore. I burst out laughing, though I felt guilty for watching her sleep. I could only imagine how red she’d turn if she knew I was there, so I drifted back to my spot on the porch to be hypnotized by the wind chimes all over again.

  While gazing out across the lake, I saw someone—a woman, this time. She was hovering above the surface of the water, her dark hair flying all over the place, watching me. She looked slightly familiar, but I couldn’t remember why. Tonight my mind was being uncooperative.

  When she realized I’d spotted her, she looked surprised like she’d been caught, and then turned around and drifted away through the trees.

  Who was she?

  I drifted across the lake toward her, wondering what she wanted, following her through the trees, in and out of backyards and neighborhoods, across the freeway, then downtown to the mall. She kept leading me along, like she wanted me to follow, but never stopping long enough for me to catch her.

  At first I was curious…then confused…then bored. I finally left her when she drifted into an empty Starbucks and pretended to order something. She even stood at the counter and looked up at the menu on the wall, like she was trying to decide what to get.

  Claire

  Something woke me. I leaned up to my elbows to look around the room, trying to find the source.

  The window was still open, welcoming in the faint music of wind chimes. The tune felt haunting—it was a perfect combination of highs and lows at all the right times, and sent a wave of chills up my back just as I heard a soft thumping noise somewhere in the distance. But it was so low and faint, I assumed it was just part of the music.

  Already feeling the restless leg dance coming on, I flipped to my other side. My bare arms shivered beneath the cool breeze, and I pulled my covers up to my neck, wondering why it was suddenly so cold. I tried closing my eyes, but they refused to cooperate, like they knew there was something waiting for me in the dark.

  The curtains blew inward, but not like anything I’d ever seen before. They seemed to hover in mid-air, lasting for a couple of seconds, like some invisible force was pulling them across the room. It was absolutely longer than what a normal wind could do—kind of beautiful, but mostly creepy.

  I stared at the ceiling, trying to close my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see or imagine anything else that might be going on around me. Ignorance was definitely an acceptable remedy for all things that went bump in the night, especially when images of a dark, ribbon-like ghost began to enter my mind.

  My heart began pounding. Hard. And the room seemed to be coming alive as normal early morning noises suddenly seemed so much more terrifying—a creaking ceiling, a shrill scraping, a rustle in the bushes outside…

  The curtains blew inward again, but this time something followed through them—something thick and black like an inky shadow floating across the room, twisting and revolving. I gasped, throwing the covers over my head, praying for it to go away. A huge gust of wind slammed the door shut, and I screamed, certain my heart was going to pound right through my chest and jump onto the floor.

  Within seconds, the door burst open and the light flicked on. “Claire, what’s wrong?”

  I peeked through the covers to find my dad in h
is underwear, standing over me. He looked worried. I leapt upward and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me. He held me tightly while calmly running his fingers along the back of my head. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just a bad dream.”

  That was when I realized I still couldn’t tell him the truth. He had already chastised me for screaming like a maniac in the kitchen, and if I told him I’d seen a ghost, he would certainly send me back in the hospital for another round of testing.

  “Claire?” he asked again, smiling patiently as his blue eyes rested on mine.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” I finally said, feeling the air coming back to my lungs.

  “You sure?”

  I looked around the room and saw nothing. “Yes. I’ll be fine. But can you close my window.”

  “You dreaming about aliens again?” he asked playfully, messing up my hair. I laughed, a little, remembering how as a kid I used to have recurrent dreams for years about dinosaurs peeling off my skin or aliens transforming into my Grandma. Seriously.

  Dad finally let me go, even though I wanted him to stay until I was certain nothing was coming back to get me.

  As soon as the light was out and the door closed, I shut my eyes again and counted down from fifty, taking deep breaths the whole way down. When I got all the way to one, I started all over again…and again…and again…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FOUR AND A HALF

  MINUTES

  Claire

  I never fell back asleep that night, and the rest of the weekend I fared even worse. Insomnia is a tricky little devil, making it impossible to sleep when you want to, and even more impossible to stay awake when you have to. I had to force myself out of bed Monday morning and almost missed my ride with Addie. She didn’t let me forget it the rest of the day, either. My Algebra teacher even caught me nodding off and called me up to work out a problem on the board. He knew I’d been sleeping, which was proof that he’s evil, or at least a big jerk. Not only did I majorly bomb the problem, but I was also pretty sure, thanks to the sound of people laughing behind my back, that I’d probably been snoring, too.

  But I made it through alive.

  That evening after dinner, Addie called me for a break from homework, which usually meant a raid through my pantry (since her parents only ate diet stuff like protein bars and hummus) and then a walk down to the dock to hang out and talk. It was already dark when we got there, but the moon was bright and the porch light was on, making the chance of me falling in the lake more remote.

  While snacking on Hot Tamales, a bag of Sun Chips and a Diet Coke, I listened to Addie go on and on about her personal drama for at least twenty minutes, until a lull in our conversation had me daydreaming again. I was purposely trying not to think of the creepy thing in my bedroom the other night in order to more specifically remember what happened before that, when Daniel held me in his arms. I was beginning to wonder if the moon held some magical power over us, and I couldn’t help looking for him, wondering if he was off in the shadows right now, watching us.

  “How’s Matthew doing?” Addie asked, pulling her knees to her chest as she turned to face me. The moonlight lit up her face, which of course made her look unfairly stunning in the silvery light.

  “I guess okay,” I said. Matthew rarely called home anymore, and I didn’t know the last time he’d come for a visit. I missed him.

  Leaning on my elbows, I stretched out across the splintery planks as a soft breeze tickled my face. My mind returned back to thoughts of Daniel, because thinking of Matthew was too depressing.

  Addie started rummaging through the half-eaten bag of chips. “I really miss him.”

  I sighed in agreement, “Me too,” but immediately realized she was talking about Matthew, not Daniel, and I sat up like a light had flicked on. “You miss Matthew.”

  “Yeah. Your brother,” she said, shoving a handful of chips in her mouth. “Whoojuh think I meant?”

  “Oh. No, that’s what I thought,” I said quickly, wondering where I had taken a detour. Daniel was plastered all over my mind like a billboard, and the more I tried to detach myself from him, the more mixed-up I got.

  Addie finished munching, but eyed me suspiciously while slowly licking each finger one by one. I tried to ignore her, but was becoming more and more convinced she could see right through me—that she knew I was hiding something. I waited, not knowing what to say, wondering if she would call me on it.

  The wind whipped my hair across my face and snatched the bag of chips from out of Addie’s hands, carrying it through the air like a kite being tugged on a string. She screamed and chased after it just as I felt a warm bank of air settle in around me.

  Daniel.

  I looked all around us, but still didn’t see him anywhere.

  “Got it!” Addie yelled triumphantly as she grabbed the bag from out of the air. She then crumpled it into an impossible little ball and shoved it in her pocket. “I better go,” she said, pulling me to my feet. “I still have tons of homework to do.”

  I followed her up the hill to the street, looking everywhere for Daniel’s face blending into the shadows.

  “See you in the morning,” Addie said, leaving me in the street as she made her way to her house. “But set your alarm this time. I don’t want to be late again!” she yelled from her driveway.

  After skipping up the steps, she disappeared inside her house. I headed up my own driveway, thinking the night seemed unusually quiet. Sensingsomeone behind me, I turned around to find Daniel grinning at me. I felt my face grow warm. I smiled, but found myself looking down at my feet before glancing up again, almost like a first date.

  “Hi,” I said out loud, forcing my hands into my pockets.

  He looked as solid and vivid as if he were alive, but when I tried to touch his arm, there was still nothing there. He didn’t respond, but pointed to my wrist, or maybe my fingers. Confused, I held my hands up in front of me, trying to figure out what he wanted.

  “What?” I asked.

  He mouthed something, which was when I discovered how incompetent I was at reading lips and shook my head in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

  I think he gave up then.

  After a car passed, I looked down the street to make sure we were still alone. When I turned back around, Daniel was ten feet away. I followed him, but he kept heading backwards down the hill, toward the lake. Finally he waited for me at the edge of the dock, where he looked like he was relaxing, just hanging his feet over the side.

  I caught up and sat beside him, staring out across the lake, not knowing what else to do. It seemed like he could hear me, even though I couldn’t hear him. But I still felt funny and awkward talking out loud.

  “I’m not really sure how this all works,” I finally said, still staring straight ahead. “You can hear me, right?” I turned to look into his eyes.

  I think I blushed again when he nodded with a dimpled smile, ‘Yes.’

  “Good. At least that’s something,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension. He mutely laughed, too, but stopped short with a look of irritation when he tried talking. It was uncanny how convincingly alive he seemed, and it made me sad.

  “I really miss you, Daniel,” I blurted out, but then felt vulnerable for saying something so blunt.

  His arm slipped away from me, and he looked down at my lap, his hand hovering atop my wrist again. I glanced at his hands crossing over mine, and realized he was pointing at my watch.

  “My watch?” I asked.

  He smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “My watch…” I repeated. It was 10:01. The second hand silently ticked its way around the face, and Daniel appeared to be holding his breath, anticipating something.

  Fifteen more clicks.

  Then it happened. Again.

  Daniel grabbed my arm, and like before, I could feel the pressure of his fingers on my skin. His subtle warmth soothed me, and I held my breath as he drew closer, his lips nearly touching my ear. My skin tin
gled with what felt like a thousand little feathers dancing all over it when he leaned into me and whispered, “Four and a half minutes.”

  Daniel

  Four and a half minutes was not enough time to tell Claire everything. I squeezed her arm, still freaking out that I could feel again.

  “How is this happening?” she asked as I reached for her hands.

  I was surprised she was still wearing the dulled, silver ring I’d given her. I twisted it around and around her finger while trying to figure out what to say and where to start, wishing she could just read my mind because I didn’t have enough time to tell her everything I wanted to.

  “I have a couple of questions for you,” I said, but she already seemed too far away. I pulled her closer, with her head just under my chin so I could inhale her familiar scent. “Do you remember anything about your birthday—about the night you almost drowned?”

  I expected her to think for a minute, or to gather her thoughts or something, but she didn’t even take a breath. “Yes,” she said, her eyes suddenly alive. “I remember you.”

  “Me?” I asked, pulling back.

  “I’m pretty sure I saw you right before I passed out…or drowned… I still haven’t figured out exactly what happened yet. I think I actually died, at some point.” When I didn’t respond, she continued. “Right before you saved me. I was off somewhere else in some calm, peaceful place, and I didn’t want to leave.”

  “Why did you leave?” She had me hooked now, despite the ticking clock.

  “Because of you. I think you said my name.”

  “You heard me?”

  “Yes! That’s what woke me up—your voice. When I opened my eyes, you were right there. I even grabbed your arm, didn’t I?”

  I nodded, recalling that night, wondering if Claire had ever thought about it before now.

  “I wish we had more time,” I said.

  “Wait. How do you know how much time we have?” she asked, her hands squeezing mine.