I Heart You, You Haunt Me (7 page)

Independence Day

I watch

the festivities

from the window.

Kids running,

waving sparklers.

Dads lighting

firecrackers.

Moms pulling kids back,

saying, “Don’t stand too close.”

The sky

fills with

red,

white,

and blue.

Into the darkness comes

light,

joy,

and freedom.

Tomorrow I go home

to Jackson.

I consider

what freedom

really means.

And I realize

maybe I’m not so free

after all.

It Doesn’t Make Sense

As the car moves

toward home,

my thoughts

don’t seem

to want to go there

just yet.

I didn’t

want

to leave

the place of

salty air

and kite rooms

and lyrical boys.

Not only

did I survive

the days

which I didn’t think

I could,

they refreshed me,

revitalized me,

reminded me

of what I’ve been

missing.

What does that mean

exactly?

My thoughts

don’t seem

to want to go
there

just yet

either.

Back Home

It’s late

when we get home.

I feel my pulse

quicken

as I think

about Jackson,

hoping he won’t be too upset.

The house is quiet.

Dark.

Normal.

Mom and Dad go to bed.

I make a PB&J sandwich.

I wait for movement

or music

or mind messages.

But there’s nothing.

I eat,

then go to my room.

My room is quiet.

Dark.

Normal.

I go to the bathroom, where

I stand at the mirror

long after I’m done

brushing and washing.

Finally, I go to bed,

wondering if he’ll find me

in my dreams,

and sort of praying

he won’t.

Light the Way

I wake up

in the middle of the night

to candles

lit up

in the darkness.

“Jackson,” I whisper,

“that’s sweet,

but you can’t do things like that.

What if my mom or dad walks in?”

A gust of wind

blows across the room

and in an instant

the room

turns

black.

Sorry.

“No, Jackson.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry this is so hard.”

And I wonder when I’ll finally

stop having things

to feel sorry about.

What’s Going On?

No one called

while we were away.

No one calls

after we return.

I spend time

watching TV,

playing solitaire

on the computer,

and reading magazines.

Jackson hangs around

some of the time.

But I still wish

someone

would

pick up the

phone

and

talk

to

me.

To Go or Not to Go

Days go by

and I finally

call Cali.

Why have I been

such a bad friend?

What happened to the good friend

who’d pick a bouquet of daisies for Cali

or make peanut butter cookies for Jessa

or burn a CD of songs for Zoe?

I miss flowers

and cookies

and music.

I want to feel

like a friend again.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Uh, I’m getting ready to head out,” she says.

“Gotta hot date?”

“Sort of.”

“Really?

With who?”

“A bunch of people are going to-”

She stops.

I wait.

She doesn’t finish.

“Oh no,” I say.

“Not there.”

“Ava, it’s time.

It’s not an evil place, you know.

Kids are hanging out there as a tribute to him.

It’s like you can feel his spirit there.

Really.

There’s even been talk of changing the name.

You know, to Jackson’s Hideaway.”

“But Cali, he died there.

How can people have fun at the place where he
died?”

“I’m going,” she says.

“You could come too.

It might be good for you, actually.”

“Cali, I called because I need to talk to you.

Please?

Can we go have a mocha?

And I’ll think about going.

I will.”

Well,

Cali never could

turn down a mocha.

No Secrets

We sip on our mochas

at Starbucks,

where we’ve

spent hours upon hours

talking

and giggling

like girls do.

My heart tells me

it’s time to spill my guts.

After all,

I used to tell her

everything.

I told her about the time

I snuck out one night

to meet Jackson

down the corner

so we could make out

on the back porch

of the vacant house.

I even told her about the time

I kissed Nick

at midnight

on New Year’s Eve

when I was still going with Jackson

but he was out of town

and I was lonely.

And now I tell her about how

Jackson is in my house

and how he turns the CD player on

and how he appears in mirrors

and how he sends me messages

in his own little ways

and visits me in my dreams.

“Are you saying he’s a ghost?” she asks.

“Basically. Yeah.”

And then she gives me

the look.

That
look

that says,

“Girlfriend,

you have totally

gone off the

d

e

e

p

e

n

d.”

Stop It!

She rolls up

the corner of her napkin.

She fiddles with the

packets of sugar.

She looks around,

like she wants to escape,

but doesn’t know how.

“I’m not crazy,” I say.

“He’s gone, A.

I know you miss him.

But you’ve got to move on.”

“Maybe you should come and see for yourself.”

“So, you see him?” she asks.

“No. Well, yes, in my dreams I do.

But in the house, he’s just there.

I feel him.

I smell him.

He lets me know he’s there. In little ways.

Even Mom says she’s smelled him.

Sandalwood shaving cream, you know.”

“So your mom thinks he’s a ghost, too?” she asks.

“No. She just mentioned that she thought she smelled him.

An observation.

But don’t you see, it’s because he
is
there.”

She shakes her head,

stands up,

and grabs her purse.

“You want to go with me or should I take you home?”

I don’t know

what I want to do.

It scares me to think about

going there again.

I look at Cali.

That look is still

on her face.

I’m
not
crazy!

Maybe

there’s only one way

to prove it.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

Absolutely Perfect

We named it

Heaven’s Hideaway.

Who knew

that name

would take

on a whole new

meaning.

Hidden back

behind the

towering green trees

is a place

right out of

a fairy tale

with a cascading waterfall

and a large, deep pool of water

surrounded by

rocks

and grass

and ferns

and plants

and flowers.

I told Jackson,

“This must be

what heaven looks like.”

And so, it had a name.

I’m the One

Jackson and Daniel

discovered it one day

on a hike.

He couldn’t wait

to show me

the special place.

We packed a lunch

and it wasn’t long before

I found myself

having the most

perfect picnic

ever.

I loved the place

so
much.

I’m the one

who came up with the idea.

I’m the one

who said it’d be the perfect place

for the School’s Out party.

I’m the one

who’s wished

a million times over

I never

ever

did.

What a Surprise

Cali and I arrive,

and the party’s

going strong.

Someone’s set a

boom box

on a rock,

and the heavy thumps drown out

the peacefulness

of the place.

The peacefulness

that Jackson and I found

the first time we came here

together.

I want to focus

on that time,

not the other time, the last time,

but it’s too hard

to keep the memories

from cascading

into my brain.

I shouldn’t have come.

It’s too soon.

Way

too

soon.

“Cali—”

But I don’t get a chance to finish.

A chance to tell her

I shouldn’t be here.

“Oh, there he is,” Cali says,

grabbing my arm.

Squeezing it.

He?

Who’s he???

And then she’s off

to greet him.

I watch

and wait,

to see who

he

is.

Lyric!?

A Rush of Emotions

Cali wraps her arms

around Lyric’s neck and

hugs him.

They do not kiss.

So, that means

a) they haven’t known each other long

or

b) they’re just friends

or

c) she likes him, but he doesn’t necessarily like her.

She pulls on his arm

and they walk toward me.

“Ava, do you know Lyric?

He was a senior last year.

Running back on the football team.

Number 11.”

Lyric? At our school?

How come I never noticed him before?

Ummm, yeah,

probably because

he was a senior

and way out of my league

and I had a boyfriend

who made me

deliriously

happy.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He smiles that beach boy smile of his,

and right then I discover

a person has the ability

to feel

a hundred different emotions

all at the same time.

Feeling Woozy

I look at Lyric

and hope he knows

he shouldn’t say

anything

about me and him.

“I need to sit down,” I tell Cali.

“Catch my breath.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.

Just a lot, you know, to take in.”

“You’re white as a ghost,” Lyric says.

How appropriate.

“Want me to sit with you?” she asks.

“No. Go! Have fun.

I’ll come find you guys in a minute.”

They head for the crowd

while I head away from it.

I don’t want to talk to anyone.

And I’m pretty sure

no one really

wants to talk to me.

What do you say

to the girl

who was the dead boy’s

girlfriend?

What do you say

to the girl

who is looking at the place

where it happened?

What do you say

to the girl

who dared her boyfriend

to jump

that deadly day?

All. My. Fault.

I traveled to Hawaii

with my parents

when I was twelve.

We went to this place

where people dove

off the cliffs

into the

cool

blue

waters

below.

For some

totally random reason,

on that partying

day in May,

I thought of those

adrenaline junkies

who were so much

like Jackson.

Then I said those

three

stupid

words

and Jackson’s eyes

moved toward the sky,

like a vulture eying his prey,

as he considered

the greatest

challenge

yet.

He climbed up high.

Way high.

He spread out his arms,

like Jesus on the cross,

and shouted,

“This is going to be so great!”

Suddenly

I knew.

I knew it was a

bad

idea.

I screamed, “STOP!”

just a
second
too
late.

When Two Became One

We waited

for him to

pop up

laughing,

SHOUTING,

b r e a t h i n g.

We didn’t hear

his head

hit the rock.

We didn’t hear

his cries

of pain.

We didn’t hear

his last breath.

Deadly

silence

floated

on the water

like an empty raft.

Rescue instincts

kicked in and

I rushed to the water,

hit it hard,

and began to

stroke

stroke

stroke

like my life depended on it,

because my life
SO
depended on it.

As I swam,

brain-photos

appeared.

Whirling,

swirling,

twirling

images

of football games,

of starry nights,

of carnival rides.

I wasn’t the

only one

in the water.

A mob

of people

took hold of him

and then I

was

whirling,

swirling,

twirling

in the sea of red

left behind.

The water,

my friend forever,

enveloped me,

whispering,

Stay here.

Let me take care of you.

Rest in my comforting arms.

It knew.

But other arms

grabbed me

and pulled me

from heaven

into hell.

I lay on the ground,

frozen from fear.

Trees towered above me,

shaking their wooden fingers at me.

Screams

of hysteria

flew through the air,

slamming into

each other.

“Call 911... He’s not breathing ... Oh my God, oh my God ...

Do something ...”

Three big words

drowned them all out.

I killed Jackson.