by C. C. Hunter
“I’m a romantic.” Dad smiles. “I’ll enjoy it.”
“You’re a romantic?” Sarcasm leaks from my voice as I pour food into Pumpkin’s bowl. “How long has it been since you’ve been out on a date? Two years?”
He dated a woman, Tammy, for almost a year in Dallas. I didn’t like her, but he seemed to, so I put on a good front. In fact, I kind of blamed Dad’s spiral downward on their breakup. It was after that I noticed he started getting up later and started looking disheveled. But maybe it was just mild depression Dad was dealing with and not drinking. That would make sense.
Nevertheless, he lost his job—which he claims was due to personality clashes with the new management. He didn’t get another job for almost five months, hence our move to Banker, Texas. At first his attitude and mood were positive in the new town, but after five months of living there, I saw it happening again. This job came only a few months later.
When I realize he hasn’t answered, I toss out, “Old people date, too.”
“I’m not old. I’m just busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Working and being a single parent.” He shoots me a frown.
I shoot him one right back. “Oh, great. Blame me.”
“I’m not blaming you. Seriously, I just haven’t met anyone right for me.”
“Maybe you’re too picky.” I stuff the empty pizza box in the trash. “Tell me you aren’t looking for a Victoria’s Secret model.”
He smiles. “All men are looking for a Victoria’s Secret model. Aren’t you looking for George Clooney?”
I make a face. “Ugh. He’s old.”
“Enough with the old shit!” he says.
I laugh, but recall how beautiful Mom was. She could have been a model. I know Dad says I look like her, but I don’t see it. The humor lingering in my chest fades when I realize why this conversation is important.
If I get the school loan, I could be packing my shit and leaving soon. Part of me is so ready to claim my independence, another part of me gets sick when I think about it. Thinking about Dad being alone hurts. Thinking about me being without him hurts, too.
I look up. “I’m serious, Dad. You need to meet someone.”
“Yeah. Come on, let’s watch the movie and see what I’m missing out on.”
Dad’s asleep less than ten minutes later. I’m glad because there’s a sexy scene I’d be uncomfortable watching with him. I’m a little embarrassed just knowing he’s in the room. Clothes are coming off. And I get a peek at a man’s naked butt.
It is a nice butt, too.
The playful banter and cute ass reminds me of my time with Carl. While I resent that he gave up on us, I understand it was inevitable, and I’m not sorry for what we had. I’m not sorry we had sex. Oh, I was for a while, but recently I’ve realized that what we had was special, even if it didn’t last.
Then I remember Hayden. Our almost kiss. Which is crazy because we can’t really kiss. Yeah, I admit I almost feel him, but . . . My brain takes a U-turn. Can Hayden feel me? I recall how he seemed to feel Abby’s presence, but couldn’t see or hear her.
The whole ghost spirit thing is a big freaking, fracking mystery. Last year I checked out several books about empaths and dealing with ghosts, but it wasn’t anything like what I was experiencing.
Music from the movie catches my attention. Realizing I stopped watching it, I push those thoughts from my mind and crawl back into the story.
An hour and a couple more steamy scenes later, the movie’s over. I cried like a baby when the heroine died. I so wouldn’t have watched it if I’d known it didn’t have a happy ending. I face death way too much in my real life to have to suffer through it in fiction.
I wait to let my eyes unpuff before cutting off the television and waking Dad. It’s almost ten. “You really enjoyed it, didn’t you?” I tease him.
He makes a funny face and grins. “Sure did. I’d give it five stars.” He gets up from his chair, gives my shoulder a squeeze and walks to his bedroom.
I watch him shut the door. “Love you,” I say quietly.
He’s not drinking, I tell myself, and I almost believe it.
I start to head for the stairs, when I realize I haven’t seen Pumpkin. I look around and find him. My heart does a double take.
He’s curled up on top of the dining room table. Hayden is sitting there, petting him. Has Hayden been here the whole time? Watching the movie with me? I remember the sex scenes, and blubbering like a baby at the end.
“You didn’t announce yourself,” I say in a low voice.
“Sorry.” He looks up at me and the first thing I notice is he’s not smiling. But it’s more than that. He appears defeated, lost. I like his cocky look better.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine.” He’s lying. He fades.
I call Pumpkin and head upstairs, stopping right before I walk into my bedroom, listening. No ice clinking into the glass. Only the hum of a sleepy house fills my ears. I latch onto that bit of good news and go to bed.
Too bad I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Hayden and the sadness in his eyes.
• • •
Dad is up and running when I make it downstairs. I’m thrilled to see he’s his old perky self this morning. Maybe I can stop worrying about him now.
I down a few more bites of cereal and go rinse out my bowl. This morning I’m the one who’s dragging. I stayed up late Googling Hayden Parker, hoping to learn something about him. I found two articles about two different Hayden Parkers. One was a brain surgeon who just won some medical award. I’m pretty sure my Hayden hasn’t been cutting open people’s brains. The second was an obituary of an eighty-year-old man. So I got nothing.
I get to school without any ghost appearances. Oddly, I’m kind of disappointed. I was hoping Hayden would stop in so I could ask him what was wrong. I realize my concern is a bit over the top. Abby is the one who was really upset. Shouldn’t I be worried more about her?
Yeah, I should. But she’s not a hot guy.
With my backpack hitched over one shoulder, I make my way through the parking lot to the school entrance when I hear an angry voice.
I look over and see Jami Holmes. She’s yelling at whoever’s in the truck that she just jumped out of.
Right then I see Jacob behind her. All six feet of him. I think he and Hayden are about the same height.
Jami commences screaming. I hear the f-bomb, “asshole,” and “dick” spewed out.
Jacob’s eyes meet mine. Realizing it appears as if I’m eavesdropping, I offer an apologetic shrug, and swing around to get the hell out of there, but I drop my purse. It hits the ground and just about everything spills onto the asphalt.
Crap! I kneel down to collect my things, even curl my shoulders, hoping to make myself smaller.
“What are you doing?” Jami screams as I’m scooping my things into my purse as fast as I can.
I’m pretty sure she’s talking to me, but I just hurry to collect my things so I can get the heck away.
“She just dropped her purse,” Jacob answers.
Yup, she was talking to me.
I glance up and meet his eyes, not hers. “Sorry.” I snatch up my purse and hotfoot out of there.
Five minutes later, I’m dumping my books in my locker when I feel someone stop next to me. Thinking it’s Kelsey, I glance over.
“Hey,” Jacob says.
I open my mouth to say “hey” back but a frog has managed to climb into my throat. I finally croak out something that sounds like “hi.” Then I go straight to worrying that he’s upset because he thinks I was snooping on him.
“I . . . I wasn’t trying to . . . butt in. I was just—”
“I know. I’m sorry. Jami gets overheated really easy.” He holds out a lipstick.
“Is that mine?” I ask.
His smile crinkles the edges of his eyes. “Well, I don’t think it’s my color.”
That draws a quick smile out of me. “Tha
nks.” I take it. Our fingers meet and I swear I feel a spark. Then I stand there sporting what probably is an all-time goofy grin. I force myself to stop smiling and the silence shifts to awkward, so I turn back to my locker and pretend I’m looking for something.
“Where did you move from?” he asks. His question draws my attention back to him as he leans against the locker next to mine. He’s got a real nice lean.
“Originally from Dallas. But I was in Banker, Texas for a while.”
“I’ve been to Dallas quite a few times. It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“You like it here?”
“It’s okay.” I pull out my English book. “Still trying to adjust.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet that takes a while. I’m sure there was a lot more to do in Dallas.”
I nod.
He stares right at me. His brown eyes are nice. But not as nice as Hayden’s blue ones. Shit, I need to stop thinking about Hayden. Especially when I have a real, live, hot guy standing in front of me.
A real, live hot guy who has a girlfriend, I remind myself.
“Did you know there’s a car show here every week? People drive their classic cars in and park at the bank parking lot on Main Street. There’s lots of Mustangs. I thought . . . since you’re into cars, well, you might like to go.”
My heart stumbles, skips a beat, then starts doing a happy dance. Is he asking me out? But what happened to . . . Did he and Jami just break up? Was that why she was yelling?
While that thought ziplines through my mind, the reality of the situation hits home. The cutest guy in school is asking me out. But would saying yes, especially this soon after his breakup, put me on the shit list of every popular girl in school?
This is one of those situations when I know there’s a right and wrong thing to do. But isn’t being right overrated? Isn’t there something positive about taking a risk?
Chapter Six
Before I can contemplate an answer, he continues, “Jami and I and some other friends are going. If you’d like to tag along.”
The reality I believed is yanked out from under me emotionally and I bust my ass. I should’ve known better. He’s so out of my league.
“Oh, uh, well my dad’s already planning on taking me.”
“Are you going to take your car?”
“I . . . don’t know. Maybe. I mean, we might take . . . my dad’s car.” I sound like a fumbling idiot. I feel like an idiot for thinking he was . . . interested in me. I’m just relieved I didn’t say something stupid like, “Wow, I kind of hoped you’d ask me out,” or something equally dumb.
“Well, maybe I’ll see you there.” He smiles. “I’d like to take a look under your hood.” He chuckles. “Wow, that didn’t sound right.”
No it didn’t, but I don’t have a clue what to say to that so I just nod, then look back to my locker.
“See ya,” he says.
“Yeah.” I never look at him, but I don’t breathe until I hear him walking away. Holy hell, I’m such a dork.
Afraid my dorkiness will explode, I go through the rest of the day without speaking to a soul. Well, other than to say I’m sorry when I bump into someone in the hall. When the get-the-hell-out-of-here bell rings, I shoot to my locker to grab my stuff and practically run to my car.
When I crawl behind the wheel, I sit there, realizing it’s Friday and all I have to look forward to is going home to an empty house. And maybe seeing a ghost.
Feeling pathetic, lonely, and a little sorry for myself, I start my car. On the drive home, I decide I’m going to call Shala. We haven’t spoken in almost two weeks. A conversation with her always cheers me up, even if it does make me miss my old life.
Pulling into the driveway, I get out my phone and dial her. The phone rings, and rings, then goes to voicemail. “Hey, uh, I haven’t heard from you in a while. Just wanted to . . . chat?”
I hang up and slump back into the seat, feeling the bubble of lonely get heavier in my chest. I know there’s a ton of reasons why Shala wouldn’t pick up, reasons besides she just didn’t want to talk to me anymore. So why do I feel so damn rejected?
• • •
Saturday at 11 am, I pull up at the car show. Dad didn’t tell me we’d be part of the show, but that was his plan. He pays the ten bucks for us to park on the lot. I tried to find a reason to bow out, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I just really hope I don’t see Jacob.
We get out and Dad gets the two lawn chairs out of the trunk. He sets them up beside the front of the car and then opens the hood. Rows upon rows of multi-colored antique and classic cars are parked in the lot. A concession stand in the front is filling the air with the aroma of hotdogs and grilled corn. It’s sixty-five degrees and actually a sunny day for January. Big puffy white clouds dance across the blue sky.
I give Dad credit. It is kind of nice to be outside. I think the last time I was outside for more than five minutes was when I walked to Bessie’s house.
Dad and I are barely settled in when a couple of older guys walk up and start talking to my dad about the Mustang. Dad quickly points out it’s my car and I helped him put in the engine, but they aren’t interested in talking to me, and vice versa. Dad, however, is more than happy to chat. They move over to make way for people walking by to peek under the hood.
While I know Dad wanted to come here for me, hoping to get me out of the house, he needs it too. Other than work and school, we’re a couple of shut-ins.
I really wish Dad would get a life.
I grab a book from my car and start reading. One I almost finished last night. I wasn’t even interrupted by a spirit. I’m pretty sure Abby will be back. I don’t think she’s finished trying to convince me to go find her ring. However, I wonder if Hayden passed over. Normally they say goodbye, and I even get the reward of seeing them cross over, but nothing about Hayden fell into the “normal” category.
“There she is,” I hear someone say.
I look up, and Jacob and Dex are moving in. I give the area a quick sweep and I don’t see Jami. At least I don’t have to face her.
“Hey,” Jacob says.
“Hi.” Remembering how I thought he’d been asking me out, all kinds of uncomfortable swells in my chest. I stand up and put the book in my chair.
They both walk over to the side of the car to gawk at the engine. We talk a few minutes about transmissions and such. I can tell they are surprised I know my shit. In truth, I’m kind of surprised they know theirs. Not a lot of guys my age really knows about cars.
“Did you buy a new engine or rebuild the one that came in the car?” Jacob asks.
“The car didn’t have an engine it. We had to buy one.”
“But you guys put it in yourselves?” Dex asks.
“We sure did,” my dad says and walks over.
“You must be Mr. Smith,” Dex says.
“Yes. So you guys know each other?” He motions between the three of us.
“They go to school with me,” I say.
“So tell me the truth,” Dex says. “Does Riley really work on the car?”
“Sure does,” Dad says with pride, but a little cautiously.
I recognize that tone, too. He used it around Carl. Oh great. Dad thinks Dex is interested in me. They start talking about Dex’s old car.
Jacob takes a step closer to me. “It’s a nice car,” Jacob says. “I’m trying to talk my dad into letting me swap my truck in to get a Mustang. But he’s afraid it will take too much upkeep.”
“They do require more than . . . a regular car,” I say. “But if you can fix it, it’s not too bad.”
“How long did it take you to put the thing together?” He eases in a little closer.
“A long time. About nine months. We finished it right before my sixteenth birthday.”
The car next to us roars his engine. It’s loud. Jacob moves closer. “I’d give anything if my old man had given me a car like this.”
“Mr. Smith?” I hear so
meone call out. “Is that you?” I look up and a man is walking up to my dad. “You’re the funeral . . . I mean the mortician at the funeral home. I’m Daniel Sparks. I was there yesterday with my stepmom.”
“Yes,” my father says. “And I think you two picked a really nice casket, too.” My dad goes into businessman mode. I go into mortification.
Dex and Jacob look at each other. Dex moves in. “Is he really a mortician?”
Oh great. I’m back to being the freak. “Yeah.” I look away, not wanting to see their expressions. It’s then I feel a chill run down my spine. I glance up and see Abby.
“You have to help me,” she says and moves so close, a chill tap dances up my spine and hangs on at the base of my neck. “You have to.” She starts crying.
I look at her and shake my head slightly, hoping she gets the message that I can’t deal with her now.
“I need you to go there.” She steps even closer, as if she thinks I’m ignoring her. And I am, but only because I can’t acknowledge her now. “Look at me,” she snaps. “I need . . . You have to find my ring. You need to . . . tell them . . . the truth.”
“Is that not a little weird?” Dex asks. “Him dealing with dead people?”
Now I’m ignoring Dex and looking at Abby. What truth? I think, but can’t say it.
“Where have you been?” I hear someone else say. I think I recognize the voice and hope I’m wrong. I turn my head.
Not wrong. Crap!
Jami and another girl from school walk up. Jami’s staring at me. I instantly realize how close Jacob is standing next to me and I step back.
“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Abby yells.
The car’s engine cuts off. The faint smell of exhaust fills the air. Then I catch another scent. Something spicy, earthy.
“You okay?” another voice asks.
I look over and Hayden is standing there. Oh, this is just too much. I put my hand on the car to steady myself.