I Heart You, You Haunt Me (9 page)

One Boy and Two Girls

Cali calls Sunday night.

“Jessa said you left the party with Lyric.”

“Yeah, he took me home.

I wasn’t feeling too well.

I shouldn’t have went with you.”

“That was nice of him to do that,” she says,

and I wonder if I hear

a hint of jealousy in her voice.

She goes on.

“I keep hoping he’ll call me.

You know, to ask me out.

Did he say anything about me?”

“Just that you met at the bookstore.

Where he works.”

“I think I’ll go by tomorrow and see him.”

She pauses. “Wanna go with me?”

I want to say yes.

But not because of her.

Because of him.

And there’s something

horribly

wrong in that.

“I really like him,” she says.

“I know,” I say.

“You should go and see him by yourself.”

Because I really like him too.

Friends

After we hang up,

I turn the computer on.

I have an e-mail from Nick.

Says it was good to talk to me

and we should do it more often.

Says I’ve got to meet Krystal.

We should get together.

Says he is glad we are friends.

I have an e-mail from Jessa.

Says she’s sorry

she didn’t get to talk to me

at the party.

Says it was good to see me

out in the world.

Says she loves me

with lots of xo’s.

I write her a note that tells her

we’ll get together soon

and I miss her.

Then I start a new message.

TO: [email protected]

my phone number is: 222-1567

ttyl

ava

And then, before I have any time

to change my mind,

I hit

SEND.

Mother Knows Best

I stay awake

again

Sunday night.

Monday morning, Dad leaves early.

He’s heading to Montreal

for the week.

Mom has work to do

and I think about asking her

to stay home with me.

But then she’d

really

worry.

She reaches out

and cups the back of my head

in her hand

in a way that says

I love you.

“Will you do something fun today?

Call one of the girls.

Go to the mall. Or the pool.

Something?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyes search mine.

What is she looking for?

The old Ava?

The happy Ava?

The Ava who didn’t carry guilt around

like a big boulder on her shoulders?

“Sweetheart,” she says,

almost in a whisper,

“I’m making an appointment for you.

To talk to someone.

I know you don’t want to.

But I think you need to.”

I can tell,

by her face,

her voice,

her touch,

she’s made up her mind.

So I nod

and secretly wonder

what else I might need to do

that I don’t really want

to do.

Get Me Out of Here

Then I’m back to today

and what I should do

with the day

that looms ahead of me

like a long,

lonely road.

“I wish I could drive,” I tell Mom.

“It’s not long till your sweet sixteen,” she says.

“I’m not so sure it will be very sweet.”

She kisses my cheek and says,

“It will be because you are.”

And then she leaves.

Once again

I’m left

with just my thoughts

and the ghost

who haunts me

because

he loves me.

I need to do

something.

If I stay here,

I’m not sure

I can stay awake

any longer.

The cool air comes.

I shiver.

The music turns on.

My Last Breath

by Evanescence.

I don’t want to

hear these words.

It’s a sad song.

Does he want me to feel sad?

If I feel sad,

does he think that will

make my heart

want him more?

He is closer to me now.

So close.

I think I feel

his breath

on my cheek.

And then the phone rings.

It startles me.

I run to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Ava?”

It’s the lyrical voice

of the real, live boy.

“Were you sleeping?”

“No. I’m awake.”

I don’t tell him

I’m avoiding sleep

to avoid

my ghost of a boyfriend.

“I don’t have to work today.

Wanna go have lunch? See a movie?”

But there’s Cali.

And there’s Jackson.

And there’s—

me.

“Pick me up this afternoon?

Around one?”

Who Are You?

The music gets loud.

And louder still.

He might be mad.

Does he know

it was a boy

on the phone?

Or is he just tired

of me ignoring him?

I feel him near me

as I go into the bathroom.

I shut the door

and lock it behind me,

but it doesn’t

keep him out.

“Jackson,

can I have a little privacy?

Please?”

He doesn’t leave.

I feel him there,

so close.

If he were alive,

our skin

would be touching,

chest to chest,

legs entwined,

arms wrapped

around each other.

But he’s not alive.

As much as I might wish

and as much as he might wish,

he’s

not

alive.

This time I yell.

“Jackson, leave me alone!”

The water in the sink

turns on

full blast.

I go to turn it off,

and as I do,

I glance in the mirror

and his face

appears,

just for a second.

It’s not the face

of the beautiful,

joyful,

loving

boy

I used to know.

It is a dark,

sullen,

painfully sad face

that scares me so bad

I want to turn and

run and

never ever

come back.

I Have to Say It

And so I run.

I run from the bathroom

and back to the kitchen.

The hauntingly familiar music

of Evanescence still plays.

I go to the CD player

and change the song

to track 4.

My Immortal.

It speaks of a girl

being tied to a life she doesn’t want

and how she’s haunted in her dreams.

I let the music fill the room,

and then I yell with everything inside of me,

“Jackson, you have to go.

This isn’t working.

Don’t you see?

This isn’t what love is supposed to be like.”

I crumble

into a chair

in the kitchen.

I love

you

and

I’m sorry,

he barely whispers

in my mind.

The fatigue,

the sadness,

the fear,

the
guilt

all come to the surface,

and then I’m crying,

shaking,

pulling at my hair,

shrieking in a voice

that doesn’t sound like mine.

“YOU

HAVE

TO GO!

“I CAN’T

LIVE

LIKE

THIS!”

It Hurts to Breathe

I think I’m starting

to hyperventilate.

I run and grab a bag

out of the drawer.

In

Out

In

Out

I breathe slowly

and try to

calm down

so I can finish

what I need to say.

I hurt everywhere.

I ache with the pain

I feel

because I have to

do this.

“I’m sorry, Jackson.

I will always love you.

I will always remember what we had.

“But you have to move on.

You don’t belong here.

“I wish I could change everything and erase that day.

But I can’t.

“You have to go.

Please, Jackson.

Please go.”

On One Condition

Okay.

I will go.

But only if

you will give me

your guilt

to take

with me.

But How?

So
that

is his unresolved

issue.

He doesn’t want

to leave me behind,

carrying around

a blanket of blame.

I put my head

in my hands

and weep

for the loss of

Jackson.

My soul

cries

like it has

never

cried before.

He is

so

good.

His love

for me is

so true.

I remember

the notes

he left me.

Ava is good...

Be happy...

Don’t be blue...

It wasn’t

about him.

It was

about

me

and wanting me

to live

the rest of my life

with joy,

instead of

grief

and pain.

He doesn’t blame me.

But I blame myself.

How do I rid my heart

of that guilt

and let

go?

Maybe

Nick

had the answer.

Maybe

I just

decide.

May be

right now,

in this moment,

I decide

that it’s sad

and tragic

and painful,

but feeling bad

and blaming myself

won’t

bring

him back.

And maybe

there is one more thing

I can do.

Letting Go

I sit down at the computer.

I open Word and start typing.

The words come freely,

easily, as if

my hands

have been waiting for the opportunity

to speak.

Dear Mom and Dad:

You know those nights, when you look up, and it’s so clear

you feel like you can see every single star in the universe?

And there’s always one star that shines the brightest. The star

we focus on when we say, “Star light, star bright...”

Jackson was that star in my world. He made my world brighter.

I miss him so much.

When I look out at the stars now, I wish with everything I have

that Jackson was still here. Every day, I’ve wished.

But today, I’m wondering something. What is Jackson’s wish for me?

I think his wish for me is this:

Joy, not sorrow.

Laughter, not tears.

Life, not death.

Love, not blame.

I want to make his wishes come true.

Thank you for being the best parents a girl could ever have.

Love,

Ava

I could leave it on the counter,

but something tells me

to make it official.

So I seal it in an envelope,

address it,

and find a stamp in the desk.

And then I walk outside

into the warm and inviting sunshine

and mail my letter.

I See You

I turn to head inside

and I see him.

I stop.

My feet won’t move.

He is floating behind

the window.

He looks different

than before.

More at peace.

Not so sad.

More like

the Jackson

I used to know.

That’s my girl.

Live a good life, Ava.

And then,

he disappears

and I’m left looking at

my own reflection

in the glass.

I look

more at peace.

Not so sad.

More like

the me

I used to know.

Good—bye Forever

When I come back inside,

the music has stopped.

The house

is peacefully

quiet.

I sit down

and the tears fall

softly this time.

I don’t have to go looking,

searching the house,

standing by mirrors,

waiting.

My heart knows.

He’s gone.

He loved me enough

to let me go.

Now I have to do

my part.

No guilt.

No regrets.

No shame.

I must

start living

again.

Good-bye, Jackson.

I will LOVE you 4ever.

Wake—up Call

I think I cry

myself to sleep.

I wake up

to the sound of the doorbell

ringing

over

and over

again.

I barely make it to the door.

It feels like I’ve taken

twenty pills

and can’t wake up.

As I open the door,

I remember.

Lyric.

“You
were
sleeping,” he says.

I smile. “Yeah.”

I invite him in,

rubbing my eyes,

thinking how terrible

I must look.

“So, you still want to go?” he asks.

“Can you wait right here?

I’ll be back.”

He smiles and nods.

And then I run upstairs

to the bathroom

because my breath

has got to be

atrocious.