by Amy Sparling
I close my eyes and picture the welcome sign. It's probably still there. And if it is, then I'll consider it a sign that Brendan's ghost is here, too. When I peek out the window, the sign hangs exactly as I remember it. Only it's already turned around to the blank side. "Okay, Brendan," I say aloud, my voice echoing in the tree house. "I'm here."
The silence is deafening. So I keep talking. "I need you, Brendan. I know you're here. This is our place." If anyone else were here, I'd be horribly embarrassed. But alone, it's almost as if everything is back to normal; almost as if Brendan is just outside on the ground, about to climb up and tell me how much his math class sucks. "I miss you." I swallow back tears. "A lot."
More silence. Maybe I'm not opening myself up enough. I breathe in air slowly until my lungs fill to capacity and then exhale, trying to focus or center myself or do whatever the hell I'm supposed to do when I make these yoga breaths. I clear my mind. At least I try to. It's running on overdrive, trying to picture every detail of Brendan's face, but all my mind sees are his big blue eyes.
"I don't know how ghosts work, but have you seen where I live now? Have you seen my new friends?" I brace myself for some kind of ghostly apparition, maybe a small tornado of Brendan's spirit whooshing in to tell me to stop liking Raine. The only sound I hear is the chirping of a bird.
"Brendan?" I close my eyes, picture him in my mind and will his body to be in front of me when I open them again. But he's not here. "Stop being an asshole and just show yourself. I know you're here."
Raine isn't a fan of insulting the ghosts or trying to badger them into showing themselves. He says it brings out bad energy and could get you in a lot of trouble. But Brendan isn't some random ghost, he's my Brendan and he won't hurt me. The last night of his life flashes in my mind.
Still, he won't hurt me. Right?
"I know you're probably mad at me, and I'm sorry." I draw my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead on them. I keep talking, facing my thighs. "I shouldn't have let you kiss me. I should have told you to be happy with Charlene." Hot tears pool in the corners of my eyes. It's unnatural for me to share so much of my feelings. They're my internal thoughts, and they're private. But I'm telling Brendan even though it hurts. It's stuff I should have told him a long time ago anyway.
"I'm sorry I told you to date her when you asked if it was okay. I guess part of me had hoped you were just asking it to trick me into saying I liked you. I've thought it over a million times, how our lives would have been different if I told you the truth. You wouldn't have dated her, you would have dated me. We would be happy together." My voice breaks. The tears are falling so fast now, it's hard talking through the sobs.
"I wanted to tell you how I felt, but I didn't. I was scared. I was a total squid." I sit up and wipe my eyes. "Squid means loser, in case you didn't know. Raine says it sometimes. Like a tentacled stupid chicken loser. Because what if you asked because you really did like her? What if I told you my feelings and you laughed in my face and said you only thought of me as a friend? I couldn't have that."
I realize I'm talking so freaking loud in here that Brendan could be trying to show himself I wouldn't hear it. I sit quietly for a minute, listening to the birds who live in this tree singing to each other. I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand. "I was wrong, huh? Maybe you did like her, but you liked me too."
I fall back against the hard wooden wall and let the tears flow. "I like him, okay? Raine is good for me. And I'm sorry I moved on after you died, but I think things with Raine could really work out. I don't want to lose him like I lost you."
My voice gets higher, but who cares, it's not like anyone is around to hear me. "I need your permission to like him. I need you to show yourself. You're the one who believes in all this afterlife crap, why don't you prove it?"
Again, nothing.
My fists slam into the plywood floor. "GOD, BRENDAN!"
I collapse into a pile on the floor and cry myself to sleep.
Chapter 43
The floor creaks under the weight of someone crawling inside. I'm vaguely aware that I fell asleep on the floor, but my dreams are so serene that I don't want to wake up. Brendan scuffles across the tiny room and sits next to me. He runs a hand across my hair. He's never done that before. I knew he liked me. I knew it.
"Wake up, it's dark outside," he whispers. I try to say no, but it comes out in a grunt. Why would I want to get up when I'm in my tree house with my best friend? He chuckles and pets my hair again. "I'm sorry about earlier."
I have no idea what he's talking about, but the noise is pulling me out of my dream-like state. Desperate to stay there, I cling to my unconscious as long as I can until it slips away and I'm awake on the floor of the tree house. "Ugh, I liked sleeping," I groan, my eyes still closed. He gently lifts my arms and helps me sit up. I snuggle against his arm, wrapping both my hands around his elbow and resting my head on his shoulder. Warm fuzzies fill my soul. I love being here, with him. "Oh, Brendan," I say, squeezing his arm. "You're the best."
Raine's head jerks away from mine. "What did you call me?"
My eyes fling open, snapping me back to reality. To real life, with real, living people. I'm so freaking mortified, my whole body goes red. "Why are you here?"
"You called me Brendan."
I shake my head, wanting to deny it but knowing I can't. "Why are you here?"
He shrugs like there's nothing odd about him being two hours away from Sterling. "You left this address on my GPS."
"You drove two hours just to check up on me?"
"You loved him, didn't you?"
I nod.
"And he loved you?"
"I guess I'll never know that." I'm blushing even more now.
Raine shakes the hair from his eyes. "And this is why you're here? Because you needed to find out."
"I guess." I pick at my chipped nail polish. I kind of wish he would leave.
He raises one eyebrow. "Is this about what happened with us last night?"
"I don't know," I say. "Brendan was my best friend. But right before he died, we had basically declared our love for each other." Crickets chirp outside as the sun falls behind the horizon. I wonder how long I was asleep.
"Look," Raine says, adjusting his jacket. "You could have told me you needed to get closure from your dead best friend. I would have understood."
"I'm sorry," I snap, just wishing he'd shut up.
"You need closure, I get it. But it's like the more you start believing in ghosts, the colder you get towards me. We're a team. I'm happy that you're starting to believe in spirits, but you're pushing me away also."
It annoys me how completely right he is. "I'm now fully convinced that this stuff is real. And since it is, I just needed confirmation from him so I could stop feeling guilty about-" Oh God, here I go again, saying my internal emotions aloud.
"About what?" That classic Raine smile plays across his face. "Guilty about what?"
"Nothing," I say, covering my mouth.
"You love me, admit it."
"I-I might," I say. "I mean, under different circumstances, maybe." Raine flips to a new page in his notebook. "I think I'll make a note of this occasion. The ice queen Taylor admits to having feelings for someone."
"Ugh, shut up." I push the notebook out of his hand. "Let's go home."
Chapter 44
Raine follows me all the way home. He parks next to me at the apartment, goes over to the Ford and opens my door for me. I'm glad he's being so understanding, but I've had a long day and just want to be alone. I can't figure out how to tell him this though.
"Thanks for coming with me, but," I say, running a hand through my hair.
"I'm gonna get out of here," he says, zipping up his jacket because it's kind of cold outside tonight. "I just wanted to see you home safely."
"Oh, thanks." I lock the Ford and grab my house key on the key ring. "I'll see you tomorrow. We have a tour, right?"
He nods. And he gets the look on his
face—the look I absolutely adored a day ago—and my stomach flips over. In one swift motion, he closes the gap between us and pulls me in for a kiss.
"Whoa," I say, pushing him away.
"What's wrong?" Raine's razor sharp hair is just inches away from my face.
"You can't kiss me anymore."
His hand crosses over his chest and grabs his shoulder. "I don't understand."
I back up until I'm pressed against the Ford. "I can't like you anymore, Raine."
"But you just admitted to loving me."
I cross my arms. "I said under different circumstances. I can't like you, okay? I just can't."
"Can I ask why?"
"Because it feels wrong." I surprise myself by saying it, but it's true. "First of all, I've never had this type of thing before." I wave my hand between me and him.
He stares into my eyes, making this conversation a million times harder. "It's a good time to start."
"No." I tug my hands through my knotted hair. "Just, no."
"I won't let this go, Taylor." Raine reaches out to touch me, but he thinks better of it and shoves his hand in his pocket. "We are meant to be together. You're like my perfect other half."
My arms are crossed so tightly, my hands are getting sweaty. "I'm not perfect. There's nothing special about me."
This time Raine really does grab my arm, but only for a second. When he sees my icy glare, he jerks his hand away. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that you're pretty, you're awesome. You go on ghost hunts with me and you're not scared of anything. You aren't some girl I grew up with in this stupid town. I thought you saw me as more than a friend too."
I repeat his words in my head, wishing they could record in my brain so I can replay them forever. It's the best thing anyone has ever told me. I hate that I have to say this. "Well, I don't. I'm sorry but I don't." He stares at me with wide eyes. "I'm sorry," I say again. "I thought I did, but I don't." I want to tell him that it's not him, it's me. And as stupid and cliché as it sounds, it's really the truth. Because it isn't him at all—he's as close to perfect as an eighteen year old can get. It's all me and my stupid guilt over my dead best friend.
"I'm a loser, Raine."
"Right, and I'm not?" He throws his hands in the air and turns to the brick wall behind him.
"No, you're popular. Everyone loves you."
"Everyone loves my ghost tour, Taylor." He's facing the wall, his fists pressed against the bricks by his head. My neighbors are on the other side of that wall, hopefully not hearing any of this drama in the parking lot. "Not me."
"Shut up, everyone does too love you. Girls are always flirting with you. You don't know what it's like to be a loser."
"Don't tell me to shut up!" He whirls around. Anger bursts from his eyes, making me want to look away, but I don't. I never cower away from an argument; never admit to being the weaker one. "You want to feel sorry for yourself because your friend died and he may have liked you? Of course he liked you, he'd be an idiot not to. And you think you're a loser because what? You lived in a trailer? Big fucking deal."
The lump in my throat grows to the size of a basketball. He just spilled my entire life, everything that makes me me, like it was nothing. "Did you really just say that? You don't know anything."
"Yeah, well you don't know what it's like to be a ghost freak. Do you think it's cool growing up with no friends and getting made fun of because you see ghosts?" Shadows from the street lights make the sharp angles on his face look frightening. "Do you know what it's like to have no one show up at your birthday party because they heard you spend your free time talking with your dead grandma in the den?"
"No, I don't." I take a step closer to him, hoping it won't make him blow up even more. He backs away.
"You don't. You'll never get it. You don't even believe in the shit that has controlled my entire life. You thought it was all just make believe and fun, but it's not. I see them, Taylor."
"Well I know that now!"
"You've known for a couple weeks. I've known my whole life. I see them, I hear them, I can't get away from them. And no one ever gets it. No one gets me."
His voice keeps getting higher. Instinctively, I glance around to make sure we're still alone. When I look back at him, his wallet is in his hand. He opens it and slides out a folded square of paper. It was from my mini notebook on the first night I tried taking notes like he does. I ended up getting bored and drawing two stick figures with our initials on their shirts. I wrote something about being superhero ghost hunters at the top. The last time I saw that paper was when I ripped it out and tossed it on the ground. As I unfold it, the memories of that night unfold before me. "You kept this?"
He nods. "I thought you got me."
"I did." I risk reaching out for his hand and he lets me take it. "I do."
"Then why are you running away when I try to make something of us?"
I turn around, and fake bashing my head into the brick wall. His hand touches my lower back. I owe it to him to be honest. "Do you promise you won't laugh?"
"No." He smiles.
I take a deep breath and try not to think about the words before I say them. After all, they'll come out wrong no matter what I do. "I feel like Brendan is watching me, from wherever he is. And it just feels like he's probably mad. I mean, he loved me. It was the last thing he said to me. What if he sees me with you and it makes him mad? I can't do that to him, Raine."
Raine considers this for a moment. "I'm sorry to sound so crass, but he's dead."
"But you of all people know they can stay around after they die. I didn't care at first, because I didn't believe it, but there's so much evidence, you know? I mean, if Brendan is here, then I can't do that to him."
Raine stands up straight. He takes a deep breath and sighs. "Are you going to go your whole life like this?"
I shrug one shoulder. "I guess."
He takes his car keys from his pocket. "Then I don't think we can work together anymore."
Chapter 45
This week is the second worst week of my life. I'm a zombie during the day, showing up at the museum and doing the bare minimum of my job and nothing more. Margret keeps oddly quiet about my sudden change in demeanor, but that's just the kind of person she is. Mom has given up searching for a job, although if she was ever actually looking for one, I never noticed it.
I throw on yesterday's jeans and polo shirt, wrap a hair tie around my unwashed hair and don't bother looking in the mirror. Who cares what I look like? Only two guys in the world have ever liked me and one of them hates me now. The other? He's dead.
Mom sits on the couch smoking a cigarette and watching daytime soap operas. "Taylor, I'm going to need your help with the light bill." She points to some papers on the coffee table. I scoop them up on my way out the door. Seventeen years old, and I'm supporting a family of two. Somehow this isn't how I pictured my life.
My savings will be drained in three months if Mom doesn't find a job. The museum pays squat compared to what I used to make giving tours. I crank the Ford and back out of the parking lot. I haven't seen Raine in two weeks. I miss him more than the money. More than I could ever miss anyone.
Even Brendan.
Margret isn't alone behind the counter when I get to work. Anna is there, standing in my spot and learning how to knit. Anna is still cool and treats me like I'm the only friend she's ever known; that doesn't mean things don't feel awkward with her. We both feel the void in Raine's absence.
"You're holding them wrong," I say, stepping next to her behind the counter.
"I know, but this is the only way I can get the yarn over without it all falling apart in my hands." Anna bites her tongue while she concentrates. Margret is almost finished with a beautiful swirly scarf made with three different shades of purple and a strip of white. "That's really pretty," I tell her.
"Good, I'm making it for you."
"What? Margret you didn't have to go through all that trouble." Ugh, why did she do this? Gifts m
ake me feel So. Freaking. Awkward.
"Purple and white are the Sterling school colors." She gives me a coy smile from over the rim of her glasses. "You'll need it when you start school in the fall."
"Ah, I see what's going on here." I tap my fingers on the counter. Anna drops her needles. "Taylor Gray, you are going to school next year. I can't stand the thought of suffering through senior year without you."
"Why not? You'll have Pax."
"But a girl needs her best friend, duh."
For as long as I can remember, Brendan was my only real friend. Sure, I had girls to talk to in gym class when we sat on the sidelines because we hated sports, and there was a birthday party or two I had been invited to over the years, but real friends? Those didn't come around every day. And deep down, I guess I know I want to finish school. Acting like I wasn't going back was my way of being independent.
Anna walks over to the mannequins and calls my name. "What?" I ask, wondering why she walked across the room to talk to me. She waves her arms frantically, begging me to go over there. When Margret looks up from adding fringe to the scarf, Anna stops. I think I get what's going on here.
"What is it?" I whisper, adjusting the collar on a mannequin. She shifts on her bare feet, biting her bottom lip. Right, like she's not going to tell me whatever it is that's driving her crazy.
"It's about Raine," she says his name like he's a forbidden fruit and if anyone hears her say it, she'll be beheaded.
"Ugh, who cares about Raine."
"I do." She grabs my arm. "And Pax said that Raine can't stop talking about you."
"So," I say. OH MY GOD TELL ME MORE is what I'm thinking. Her head falls to the side as she examines my face. "I know you still care about him."