She glanced up to his face, his sharp chin leading to a perfectly square jaw. He wasn't classically handsome, his features were too dark for that. Even his blue eyes managed to look too... fierce to be considered model pretty.
As she stared, those blue eyes slammed shut in obvious pain.
A deep growl emerged from his throat, a sound that ripped at her heart.
She had to find a way to communicate with him, a way to tell him she was sorry, to soothe him. If she could send a damn vase flying, there had to be a way.
Chapter Fourteen
Move on. That’s what she would want him to do. Move on, keep writing, and somehow find a way to be happy in this God forsaken shell of a hate filled world. Not fuckin’ likely.
Derek opened his blood shot eyes as the hot water ran down his back. It could have been soothing, if not for the pink tinge to the water below. Just now the blood of the detective he had beaten earlier was disappearing down the drain. Shaking his head slowly, he reached down and turned off the knobs. The water stopped except for a steady rhythmic drip that left a copper colored stain in the tub.
Pulling the curtain wide with a yank, he stepped from the shower and quickly, halfheartedly toweled himself dry. With naught but the towel across his shoulders, he wandered into the bedroom and dressed without a thought as to which garments he chose. Moments later he stood staring at the closet. Her stuff was there.
How was it he was ever expected to let go or move on with all this stuff here to remind him? Tiny skirts and skinny jeans clung to hangers between sweaters, tees, and sweatshirts. A purple vintage sweatshirt. OK, at least two people owned it… Technically one now, he supposed. With his shoulders slumping, he turned, defeated, and stalked from the bedroom.
Upon the corner of his desk stood a note that Jade had written him a few days prior. He fought back the tears. What was the use? With hazy eyes he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open. A single twenty-dollar bill rested in its fold; it would have to do. He simply couldn’t stay here looking at everything she had left behind. He needed to make time pass faster, make it disappear.
Grabbing up his oversized MSU hoodie, he walked out the door, pulling it closed but refusing to lock it. With any luck someone would rob him and take all the memories when they left. The characters in his head couldn’t agree more. Derek was tired of them. They hadn’t shut up for hours. He hoped they might drown.
Climbing back down the many flights of stairs, he stepped out into the nighttime street and turned right. Following the sidewalk two blocks, he found what he sought. Though it had once been a small corner grocery store, it had been revamped into a scummy, cheap dive of a bar where the less than desirables went when they couldn’t afford a full bottle. Derek, pushing through the blast of smoke filled air that erupted upon opening the door, went to join them.
* * * * *
He had crossed the city as fast as he was physically able, though it had taken him the majority of the day. Rush hour had been the worst; he hated needing to travel the sidewalks when all the businesses relinquished their employees for the day. He had contemplated leaving his cart behind, but decided against it for two reasons. One, he had a lot of supplies in his cart. Two, even a shopping cart that appeared to be full of trash was not safe in Detroit. These mother fuckers would steal anything.
With that decided he had been forced to dodge the sheep from four until nearly half past five and then, fortunately, it began growing colder as the sun began to sink behind the buildings to the west. With the coming of the chill, the streets were quickly evacuated and Gunny was free to move unhindered. Mostly. From time to time the damned leg, which now he was thinking might have been won over by the enemy, would squeak at him loudly as it locked in either a bent or straight position. It might be a stubborn beast, but Gunny knew that with a few well-placed blows he could make it submit to his will once again.
Finally, two hours after darkness had fallen in earnest, he found himself in front of Derek’s building. Stashing his cart in the alley, careful to be certain he was not watched and it was not inhabited, he left it and went inside. Though he had never been in Derek’s apartment, he knew which floor it was upon from his surveillance days prior, and he knew what direction it faced.
Walking through the glass door, he glanced around the meager entry to the building. Mailboxes lined one entire wall as if it had been papered in tiny doors. Beyond that, one singular wooden door stood opposite him, and a staircase rose from the floor to his right. No damned elevator. Go figure.
A few steps later, Gunny peered up the many flights of stairs above him and shook his head. Looking down to the leg he used, but was not his, he made sure his plan was clear.
“You listen here you bastard, pull one of your stunts now and I will throttle you until your real owner can’t even recognize ya.”
Gunny began to climb awkwardly. Fourteen stories later he topped the stairs to the floor he wanted without so much as a peep out of his leg the entire time. Satisfied, he grinned before shuffling across the floor to the appropriate door. He knocked, trying not to sound aggressive.
Waiting what he thought was an acceptable amount of time, he reached down and tried the knob. It turned. Gunny had known Derek a while. Knew his nuances. Knew it was unlikely he would leave his house unsecure. Hell, he had been the one to teach Derek half of his tricks to not be found and stay safe.
Cautiously he pushed the door open slowly. Peering inside he found the apartment to be empty, and yet not. Derek was not home it was true. But there, sitting upon the couch/fouton thing-a-ma-jiggy was Jade in her era inappropriate gown. All the others who could see her would assume she had died much longer ago than was true.
She sobbed with her face in her hands, completely unaware of his presence. Apparently he had arrived a tad late to warn her, but maybe with some luck he could still be of some help to Derek. If he could find him…
"Hi there, twinkle toes."
Jade lifted her head at the sound of an unknown voice. There was a stranger in her apartment. He looked haggard. Dirty. A fleeting fear coursed through her, only to be replaced by the knowledge that he couldn't do anything to her that hadn't already been done.
She waited and watched, drying her tears as the stranger merely stood there, almost frozen in place just inside the door. She expected him to look around, take stock of what little they had and decide what he wanted to steal.
Instead, he seemed to be staring right at her, almost... expectantly.
"I said hello. It's customary to respond when someone speaks to you."
She looked around again, wondering if Derek had somehow slipped back in while she'd been crying, curious to see if he was ignoring this man.
"No need to look around, missy. I'm talkin' to you."
Now Jade was startled. "You can see me?"
"Of course I can. Why else would I be talkin' to ya?"
"Oh... are you a ghost too?"
Now the stranger laughed. It wasn't really a happy sound, too scratchy and rough, as if it were rarely used.
"No. I'm not a ghost. I can just see things most people don't." He tapped his finger to his temple. "I got the right kind of mind, you see?"
"Oh. Okay. Who are you?"
"I'm um… Well, I’m one of Derek's friends. I guess that's a close enough fit. I know who you are, Jade. And I know what happened to you."
Jade leaped off the couch, wanting to run and throw her arms around his neck, hug his dirty body, possibly pinch his cheeks even. Someone who could not only see her, but could potentially tell her what the hell was going on. As she neared him, he backed away, stepping as close to the door as he could.
"No, no, no. You don't want to do that. Trust me. I can see you, but... I think maybe you have some questions for me."
As soon as he'd stepped back, Jade had frozen in place. Questions... God yes, she had questions. But right now she couldn't even think of one coherent sentence. She started rambling, pacing around the coffee t
able.
"How... why am I... you can see me... but I can't..."
He gave that same raspy chuckle. "Just sit down, and I'll see if I can't sum this up a little.”
Perfectly willing to let him simply feed her information, she sat back down onto the couch, only then formulating an actual question. "How come I can sit and walk, but I can't seem to touch anything?"
"We'll get to that. So, you've figured out that you're dead. Sorry about that. I tried to come after you when ya flew the coup Sunday, but you move a little too quick for this old leg,” he knocked upon the hard plastic of the thing before looking up at her once more. “I would've told you everything then. So, yes... you're dead. What you are, what a ghost is, is simply a disembodied soul. Which is why I can see you. I can see souls, even through the people they live in."
"A soul... Okay. Sure,” she shrugged.
"Well, without too much detail, you're stuck here for now. You can sit and walk because you do it without thinkin’ ‘bout it. Same way you breathe. You don't need air, yet I can see your chest moving in and out. Hell I bet I could feel your breath movin’ too. Touching stuff, well, that's different. That requires intent."
"Wait, you said you're friend's with Derek. Can I tell you something and you can give him a message for me?"
"No. It's against the rules. Lots of damn rules. Ways around 'em of course, but that's for another time. For right now, hard charger, you're only goal is to understand a few simple things. Most people won't see or hear you. You can learn to touch things, just focus really hard. Other than that you just need to figure out why you got stuck here."
"How am I supposed to know why?"
"You're not supposed to know. You're supposed to discover."
"Discover what?"
"Why you're here."
"Gee, cryptic much? At least I can see why you and Derek are friends."
"Yeah. So, I need to find him, which is why I came here. Do you know where he went?"
"Not really. He grabbed his wallet and left. I would guess a bar based on the look in his eyes, but I don't know where. I tried to help him..." She felt the damn tears starting again.
"Yeah, I know you did. I'll go find him."
He turned, and then paused with his hand on the door handle, looking back at her. "You're going to be lonely. When you figure out what exactly it is you want to ask, come find me. I'll be around. Keep trying to solve the puzzles. That'll help."
"Hey, what do I call you?"
"Gunny's good enough."
She nodded, and then watched as he hobbled out the door. At least Derek had somebody that cared enough to go and look for him. He wasn't totally alone.
Neither was she... there was someone that could see her, talk to her. Not that she would probably ever be able to find him “around.”
Solve the puzzles, huh? She could do that. Starting with touching. If she could figure out how to touch something, she could find a way to apologize to Derek.
Reaching out, Jade started trying to push a magazine sitting on the coffee table. It was all about intent, and she intended to move that magazine. Exhaling hard, she saw the pages flutter.
* * * * *
The room was dark and stuffy, reeking of sweat and alcohol. Derek sat upon a stained oak stool in front of the matching bar. Before him, half a dozen overturned shot glasses made a small pyramid. Though the music here was lousy, and barely loud enough to be considered audible, he swayed slightly in his seat. Smoke trailed lazily through the air, but Derek didn’t give a shit.
Raising his hand, he signaled for another shot of whiskey and being the lone customer seated at the bar proper, he was nearly immediately served. Derek sat both hoping and horrified that the bar tender might ask him what he was trying to forget. It was not about forgetting though, it was about letting go. If he did not find a way to let go of the pain it would bore deep into his soul and suffocate him.
It was also about passing time. Derek wanted to remember every moment he had shared with Jade, but he did not want to think about it now. He needed to get past the funeral first. So instead of forgetting, or remembering for that matter, he drank hoping the time would just slip past him.
Tipping his head back he poured the liquid to burn sweetly down his throat.
“Did ya bother to get me one?”
Derek jumped, the sudden voice right beside him coming as more than unexpected.
“Dammit, Gunny, you scared the fuck out of me!”
“Yeah. I thought I might,” he chuckled hoarsely. “That’s why I said it so loud.”
“What you doing here, Gunny? You know the bus from Boston comes tonight.”
“Yup. But I also know a man who lost a woman shouldn’t drink alone.”
“You know?”
“Course I know, and I’d say I read it on your face ‘cause it is there plain as day, but that’s not how I knew. It’s all over the news man.”
“Really?” Derek asked.
“Yeah. The papers too.”
“Is that how you knew?”
“Hell no, man, you know I ain’t got a TV and the only papers I got are to wipe my ass.”
“Then how?”
“Heard about it is all,” Gunny replied. “I’m real sorry, too,” the concern in his voice obvious to any who listened.
Derek lowered his head a few minutes, trying to compute all that had just been said. There was always more meaning than the obvious when it came to Gunny. Unfortunately the whiskey kept taking his thoughts and hiding them. At least the characters had shut the fuck up. They didn’t like Gunny much.
After a few moments of trying to get past the haze, he gave up and raising his hand, he motioned for another round, this time for the both of them.
“Let me get it,” Gunny said and placed a bill on the bar. The bartender looked at Gunny, puzzled a second at the money before snatching it up. “Just keep ‘em comin’ and use that as our tab.”
Without so much as a nod the man poured a pair of shots and left the pair of men to their conversation.
“I loved her, Gunny.”
“I know ya did. So did she. Don’t you think otherwise neither.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Derek, right now you are supposed to have some drinks with an old friend. Tomorrow you will wake up and pass the day as best you can. The day after that you do the same. You just keep doing that, you see, until it becomes natural. All we can do each day is do the best we can with the time we have.”
“I think I know who killed her. Or at least who might know the one that did it.”
“Is that so?” Gunny asked, his eyebrows rising.
“But the cops said if I go near there again I’ll go back to jail.”
“Back?”
“Yeah I almost killed a cop yesterday.”
“Shit man, you gotta keep your cool with them folk. Don’t raise no alarms. Don’t get noticed, man. Lay low.”
“I know, Gunny, but they threatened me.”
“Don’t you worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll look into it for ya. You just keep safe. You understand?”
“Yeah, Gunny, Thanks.”
For long minutes both were quiet again. Derek knew Gunny was reading him, but he also knew that something about their conversation was lost upon him. Something hadn’t fit. Damned whiskey! Oh well, if it was important then he would figure it out later.
For hours the pair sat at the bar talking in spurts and tossing back shots. It was far into the morning when Gunny helped Derek back home. Telling his friend bye, Derek waved very much like the drunken bastard he was and could have swore Gunny winked towards the corner before leaving him. Derek lay in his bed a moment, watching the ceiling swirl before his face. Only moments later, darkness took him.
Chapter Fifteen
He was home, which meant he was safe, at least for now. Whatever else came with being a “disembodied soul,” she didn’t know yet, but she at least had no need for sleep. So, rather than trying to rest she me
rely sat beside Derek and watched him sleep.
When his dreams would turn dark, she would gently brush his cheek and smooth the frown lines from his forehead.
She couldn't really touch him, but making the effort made her feel a little better. It soothed her soul.
At one point he reached out to her side of the bed, crying out her name in his sleep, a lone tear slipping down his cheek.
That damn near broke her. If she had still been alive, it might have broken her completely. Of course, if she'd still been alive it wouldn’t have happened.
The second time he reached for her she found herself lying down next to him, curling into him like she would have any other night.
It occurred to her for just a moment to be surprised the bed held her. Then she remembered what Gunny said about actions without thought verses actions with intent. Apparently she had lain down without thought.
Too bad she couldn't really curl into him. She had never realized how much she would miss the press of his warm body next to her while she slept. Yet another detail of life she had overlooked until it was taken away from her.
Fighting back tears of her own, she began to stroke and soothe his forehead. "Ssshh, Derek. It'll be okay, baby. I know you can't hear me, but I'm right here with you. I always will be."
"Jade?"
She froze. This sounded more like a question, than the pained cry of earlier.
"Yes, baby. I'm here."
"God, Jade. I miss you."
Could he somehow hear her? Not possible.
He must still be dreaming.
Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his lips, stopping when she felt a tingle in her own lips. The only sign that she was touching something. Giving in to temptation, she held on, kissing longer and harder, lost in the memory of his kisses.
Until he moaned.
She jumped back off the bed at that sound. Had he felt that on some level?
She crept back up the bed, sitting beside him. He had rolled to his back, the sheet slipping almost completely off during his restless battle with the bed.
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