In the Echo of this Ghost Town

by CL Walters

  I nod.

  “Please. Sit.” Dad disappears down the tiny hallway, and I hear him knock on a door.

  A few moments later he reappears, with Mara behind him. She’s lost the hat and the jacket and is wearing one of those kinds of shirts that slip off the shoulder and leggings, mostly black. I notice she’s trying to appear indifferent. I feel that look on my own face.

  My heart races with anxiety and tension.

  We all sit around the table. Phoenix on one side of me. Dad on the other. Mara directly across from me.

  “Mind if I say a prayer?” my father asks. He holds out his hand.

  I don’t want to take it, hesitating.

  He takes it back before I can reject him and folds his hands in front of him instead. Then he bows his head.

  Mara’s watching me, her gaze aloof but severe, judging me.

  I bow my head, so I don’t have to look at her.

  “Heavenly Father,” our dad starts, “thank you for your blessings. Thank you for bringing my kids tonight. Please bless the food to our bodies. In Jesus name, I pray. Amen.”

  I think of Cal, then. The past is the past, now I must figure the road forward. Phoenix has found a road forward; it would seem even my father has. I’m bumping along this ugly road, trying to gain traction, and maybe have, sort of, but I don’t think I have the right tires or something for off-roading. It all feels slippery.

  “Let’s eat,” Dad says.

  We do. Sort of. I push the spaghetti around on my plate. My stomach is churning with discomfort. The stretches of silence between us make it worse, though I give our father an A for effort for attempting to engage us. Phoenix tries, too. More than Mara or me. We look like mirrors of one another. I think, Dad and Phoenix have a lot in common. Then I feel like a shitbag for thinking it. I keep my mouth shut; I can’t imagine that anything coming out of it will be of any use to anyone. I don’t feel very different than I did that night at the Quarry when I unleashed on Max, and she’d only been trying to help. Maybe it’s progress that I’m not unloading.

  “You run?”

  My brother pokes my arm. I look at him.

  “Dad asked you a question.”

  I look at my father. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t know you were a runner.”

  “Just started.” I look down at the plate and force myself to take a bite, so I don’t have to talk.

  “Mara runs track for her school.”

  I look up at her.

  She’s watching me again with that measuring look.

  “What events?” Phoenix asks, which is fitting since he was the high school athlete. I sure as fuck wasn’t unless partying was a sport.

  She looks away. “The 100 Meter hurdle, the 100 Meter, and the 4 by 100 relay.” She doesn’t look up, focused on her plate. When her eyes don’t meet mine again, I wonder if she’s as wary of me as I am of her. My perspective has been fixed in her being the thief, but what if she sees us the same way. The idea upends my victimhood, and I look down at the plate again.

  Phoenix makes a sound to impart he’s impressed. “Fast. Griffin just graduated.” He’s trying to build bridges. Another A for effort.

  “What grade are you?” I ask her, trying to help Phoenix, even though I think I already know. So, when she says, “Junior,” I knew that would be her answer. I was two when she was born. A sister. A sister I’ve never met until this moment. A sister I might have had.

  My gaze snaps to my dad with so much anger. I suddenly realize she was never the thief. Jaxon Nichols is the fucking thief. Father, as a cheater. Father, as a liar. My eyes burn with tears I don’t want, but I can’t seem to keep them locked down. He stole from all of us. He stole from Mom, even Mara’s mom. He stole from my brother and me. He stole from Mara. “You’re such a piece of shit,” I say, and one of the tears escapes down my cheek, making me even angrier. I swipe it away.

  “Griffin.” Phoenix reaches out a hand and sets it on my forearm.

  I shrug out from under his touch, nearly upend his water, and toss my fork on the plate with a loud clank. I open my mouth to fucking unleash all the hurt I’m feeling, but my words stall. Max’s rules run through my head, but I can’t accept him. I can’t forgive him. Instead of words, though, the tears flow, and I can’t stop them. “I fucking hate you,” I finally say, grasping onto the only thing I can find. Max’s rule: share. That’s a fucking truthful share. “I fucking hate you,” I repeat and stand.

  Then I walk out of the apartment to find solace in my car, but there isn’t any there either.

  Phoenix texts: What happened to keeping your mouth shut?

  I don’t answer him but turn on my car, so it warms up. A while later, I’m calmer and less volatile but in no way able to return to the scene of my crime. I notice a shadow move down the walkway and descend the stairs. I expect Phoenix, but it’s Mara.

  She hesitates at the bottom of the stairs, shoves her hands into her jacket’s pockets, and turns to walk back up, but stalls. Then she straightens her spine, changes her mind, turns back around, and walks to the passenger side of the car.

  I unlock it.

  She opens the door. “May I?”

  I nod at the seat.

  She slips inside, keeping close to the door as if I’m the bad guy. I suppose after that showing, I am.

  I don’t say anything to her, just stare at the ugly apartment building under the glaring, yellow lights.

  “I’ve yelled I hate him at least once a week since he got out.”

  “I’m behind then. I’ve only said it twice. Once for each time I’ve seen him.” I trace a thread of regret that she might think she’s the cause. “It isn’t because of you.” I grasp the steering wheel to do something with my hands.

  “Really?” Her tone is unguarded a moment, surprised. “I mean, I think I’ve probably hated you too.”

  This makes me offer a short laugh that stays in my nose.

  I see her relax slightly in the seat, her shoulders dropping.

  “He’s been a shit father,” I say, and I swallow to keep new tears from invading.

  “Yeah. He has.” She turns to look at me. “I think he’s trying though. And that isn’t to excuse him or invalidate any of the feelings we have because of the shit he’s done, but I do think he’s trying to be better.”

  I turn to look at her. “Aren’t you angry?”

  “Fucking pissed doesn’t begin to cover it.” She smiles, and I see Phoenix’s smile.

  “I got so angry up there because I could have used a sister, you know. I could have used my brother too, but he was–” I stop, unwilling to share Phoenix’s story since it isn’t mine. “He wasn’t around until recently.”

  She looks down at her hands in her lap, fingertips peeking out from her sleeves. “I don’t know about the whole brother-sister thing since I’ve never had one, but I’d be willing to start as a friend. Griffin.” She tests my name.

  It’s my turn to measure her with a look, to see if her offer is sincere. I don’t know her well enough to assess her honesty, but I decide to take it at face value, so I nod and think Mara in my head.

  Movement outside the car captures my attention. Phoenix crosses the parking lot toward the car.

  “That’s my cue,” she says and opens the passenger door.

  She climbs out.

  “Mara?”

  She bends so that she can see me.

  “Thanks.”

  She smiles and nods, offers Phoenix a “Merry Christmas,” and retraces her steps back to the apartment.

  Phoenix sits down in the passenger seat, closes the door, and sits with me as we watch her, making sure she gets to the door until she disappears inside. “Well, baby bro. I’ll give you credit. I didn’t think you’d follow me back into the apartment, and you lasted about thirty minutes longer than I thought you would.” He punches my shoulder.

  I punch him back.

  He rubs his arm and smiles. “Let’s go home.”

  4
/>   I’m not expecting to see Bella at my front door, her body in the process of turning around to leave when I open it to leave on my way out to pick up Max for our New Year’s Eve date. Bella, who’s heard the door, turns, only part way, and has a strange look on her face that I’d identify as guilt but only because I’ve felt it a million times. On her though, the expression isn’t familiar, so I could be wrong. She freezes, a strange smile that isn’t really a smile, and an uncharacteristic blush stains her pale cheeks.

  My engine sputters into a stall, halting at the threshold.

  “I…um–” She stops and looks down at the car keys in her hands.

  I reorient my own dazed expression and press my restart button. “Bella. I’m surprised to see you. Happy New Year.”

  She never returned my Christmas Eve call, and aside from those two stray notifications that she called but left no message, I haven’t heard from her. I figured they were mistakes, like us. Discomfort wraps me in a bro side hug and smirks.

  Bella, still standing on the bottom step half turned toward me, crosses her arms over her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. The pink has drained from her face, making her look paler.

  I consider inviting her in, but I’m supposed to be leaving. I’m going on a date. With Max. I don’t know what to do because Bella looks weird, and all I can think about is the last time she was here, about the awkwardness, and wishing it was a dream instead of a hazy memory.

  She doesn’t look good. Her face is strained with sharp eyebrows and a frown, the pale color now looking a little greenish gray. I’m wondering if something happened because her eyes look faded with dark circles as if she hasn’t slept. I wonder if maybe she’s hungover; she has that pall about her, but in all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her appear unsure or tentative.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Why?”

  Her defensiveness is sort of aggressive.

  “You look–” I start and then stall to approach her with my words like I might approach a wild animal. I don’t think telling her she looks awful will help me get out of the house to Max. Besides, she looks like she wants to go for my jugular, and I would hate to keep Max waiting– “upset, I guess.”

  She glances down at her booted feet for a split second and then back up, but she doesn’t look at me. She looks past me. “Can I come in? Just for a minute?”

  I look over my shoulder as if I’m about to ask permission. I’m suddenly feeling small and young. There’s no one else here, and though I don’t feel tempted by Bella anymore, I just feel weirded out. Then again, I reason, I should be polite. She looks atypical and maybe she just needs a friend. “Sure.” I step back.

  She climbs the last two steps and passes me as she enters the house.

  There was a time not so long ago when all I thought I wanted was Bella. Her beauty. Her body. Her mystique. Now though, the powder scent is pungent, and I find myself comparing her to Max. Max, who’s tall and strong. Max, whose smile makes me weak and strong at the same time. Max, who makes me laugh and whose arms are just right. Max, who smells like cinnamon and spice. Max, who makes me feel like I’m starving.

  I need to get Bella gone.

  “Would you like some water?” I try politeness to figure out what’s brought Bella to my door. The last time we spoke she wanted to get her life together.

  She looks even paler now, like she’s ill. She swallows, shakes her head, and croaks, “Bathroom?” Her eyes are gigantic with panic.

  “Hallway,” I say with a wave of my hand, but before I’ve even finished, she darts through the house, hand over her mouth, and disappears down the hall.

  I follow, to see if she made it.

  The door is wide open.

  I stop outside.

  Bella is on her knees in front of the toilet, getting sick.

  “Oh. Shit. You okay, Bella? Obviously not,” I ramble, rolling my eyes at myself. I back out of the room as I say, “I’ll get you some water.”

  By the time I’ve walked into the kitchen and filled a glass of water, she appears at the end of the hallway looking less pale but still tentative. I set the glass on the counter and slide it across the surface like a peace offering. “Hung over?” I ask.

  “I’m pregnant.” She hasn’t moved. Just stands like a statue at the end of the hallway.

  I look at the glass on the counter and blink as I undergo a hard reset. I’ve gone offline, deciding I hadn’t heard her correctly. What did she just say? “Hung over?” I repeat, as if to replay the last few seconds.

  “It’s yours.”

  My brain begins to spin in the opposite direction, enacting a protective force field. “What?”

  “The baby. It’s yours.”

  Now my brain hijacks the rest of me. I lean against the counter by the sink on autopilot and cross my arms. My brain is writing a list, the wheels spinning methodically to when we were together.

  My birthday.

  We got drunk.

  We made out. Drunk.

  I broke my rule.

  We had sex.

  No condom.

  “I’m on the pill,” she’d said.

  I broke my rule.

  “You’re on the pill,” I say now. I sound like a robot.

  She moves from the hall and stops on the other side of the counter. “I am. I was. I don’t—no. Something happened. I didn’t know about the antibiotics. I didn’t know.” She swipes her eyes with her hand and crosses her arms over her chest again.

  “Antibiotics?” I feel like my head is an empty house. The words echo inside the space, bouncing around, and I’m struggling to fit them into the right groove to put the meaning together.

  “I’d been on antibiotics for–” she stops. “Why doesn’t matter. It was before us—that night. It affects the pill’s reliability. I didn’t know.” She swallows down what I assume must be guilt.

  “Antibiotics,” I repeat.

  I look at her, trying to piece together what she’s said. She looks different. Sounds different. Is dressed differently. Leggings, a long violet sweater peeking out from beneath the coat she hasn’t removed. Her hair is flowing out of from under a knit, winter cap. She’s pale and without the make-up she’s usually wearing. This is Bella undone, and the most vulnerable I have ever seen her.

  “You’re sure?” I ask.

  She nods, then pauses as if considering what I’ve asked. “Are you asking if I’m sure you’re the father?”

  Now that she’s said it, I am. I don’t want to say she’s slept around, but I can’t not say it either. “Are you sure?”

  She shakes her head like I’m the biggest disappointment. I suppose she isn’t wrong. “I knew I should have left.” She turns and disappears into the living room. I don’t know if she means that night or earlier at the door.

  My body comes online, and I move, follow her. “It’s a fair question.”

  She flings the front door open, and it smacks the wall with a pop. “It’s fucking yours, Griff.” I think she’ll stop there, but she doesn’t. “You’re the only guy I was with. And for the record, I’ve only been with one other guy before you, so thanks for the slut-shame.” She turns away to leave.

  I grasp her shoulder to keep her from storming from the house. “It’s still a fair question,” I say. “I wasn’t trying to slut-shame you. You show up telling me you’re pregnant with my kid–” my throat closes on the word– “and you didn’t think I’d ask?”

  She turns to the side, shaking my hand from her shoulder, and buries her face in her hands as she bursts into tears. “I was hoping it wasn’t real,” she sobs brokenly, her voice sounding muted as it escapes between her palms.

  Not sure what to do, I stand there. One part of me wants to push her out the door and pretend the last ten minutes never happened, but another part of me figures she’s scared. I fucking am, but I need to be strong. I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder again.

  Still sobbing, Bella turns toward me,
steps into my space, and buries her face against my chest.

  Shit.

  At first, I stand there with my hands out to my sides.

  “I was just starting to get my life together,” she says through her tears.

  I put my arms around her and stand there stiffly, wishing I could teleport away.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask.

  “Keep it.”

  “Really?” It’s the wrong thing to say, but I’m thinking there isn’t a right thing to say. I’m struggling to swallow suddenly. A kid? Me? I’m fucking nineteen.

  She steps away from me, her eyes as hard as shiny rocks. “I don’t want anything from you. I can do it by myself. I just thought you should know.”

  It’s the wrong thing to say. I feel my gaze crystalize into rocks too, and suddenly I’m angry, so fucking pissed. Not at her. Yes, at her, but also at myself. I broke my fucking rules! I want to scream. And Max. Oh my fucking god, Max. I’d forgotten. My earlier joy crumbles when I realize—even if I already knew and told her—she doesn’t deserve my shit show.

  I feel sick to my stomach.

  I take a step away from Bella to put more distance between us.

  “Griff?” she asks.

  “I think you should go,” I say and am surprised by my calm. “I need to think.”

  She hesitates, but then turns and walks out of the house. The screen door squeals closed behind her, and I’m rooted to the floor, staring outside. I watch her get into her car. I watch her drive away. I watch the empty street, but nothing computes. I just stare until the dark finalizes outside, and I blink. I’ve forgotten something. I was supposed to do something, go somewhere.

  A kid?

  Where was I supposed to go, I wonder?

  I’m going to be a dad? My father is a piece of shit.

  I’m too young.

  Where was I going?

  I was getting my life together, I think. It was finally feeling right.

  “With Max,” I say out loud to only myself.

  I sit down on the couch and stare at the TV even though it’s cold and blank. I can see the outline of my shadowed reflection. It’s exactly how I feel, like a shadowed version of myself. A fake. I can’t face Max. She told me not to ruin it, and I’m going to blow it up.