I Heart You, You Haunt Me Page 6
“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.
I Need Dorothy’s Shoes
The memories
literally
make
me sick.
As I hug the tree
and lose my mocha,
all I can think about
is how I want to go home.
I need to go home.
Only problem is,
I left my cell at home,
so I can’t call my mom
to come and get me.
I gather myself
and my thoughts
and look for Cali.
I find her in the middle
of a group of kids
grooving it,
shaking it,
moving it.
“Cali,” I shout, “I need your phone.”
“How come?”
“Just because.”
“It’s in my purse.
Over there,” she says
as she waves her hand
in a big, generic swoop
in no particular direction.
I turn around
and run
right into Nick,
who’s holding hands
with a pretty little thing.
“Hey, Ava!
So great to see you!”
He gives me a quick hug,
then turns to the girl.
“This is Krystal.”
“Hi there,” I blurt out.
“Nick, can I use your phone?”
“Sorry, it’s in my car.”
“Crap.”
My head is spinning,
my stomach is churning,
my heart is aching,
and I don’t know
what to do.
And then, Lyric’s there,
pulling me away.
Away from
the music,
the laughing,
the noisy noise,
and into the quiet
of the forest.
“I have a phone you can use,” he tells me.
“Who do you want to call?”
“My mom.
I need a ride.
I shouldn’t have come.”
And before I even know what’s happening,
I’m in his sweet red jeep,
heading home.
Tears of What?
You’d think
riding in a jeep,
feeling the wind across my face,
and listening to Black Eyed Peas jam it out
with a cute guy by my side
would make me
happy.
No.
It makes me cry.
Or maybe I’m crying
for other reasons.
It’s hard to tell
when there are a hundred emotions,
all mixed up together.
He reaches over
and holds my hand
and something about that
calms me down
and the tears
stop flowing.
When we get to town,
he pulls into
the parking lot
of Taco Del Mar.
“I thought maybe we’d get a bite to eat
before I take you home.
I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I nod. “Sure.”
And so we go inside.
He orders.
I sit.
When he sits down
across from me,
he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t put it together
at the beach that you were that Ava.”
“Sorry?”
“I just mean, you’re going through a lot.
And I should have been, you know,
more sensitive, or whatever.”
“Are you always so nice?” I ask.
He smiles.
And when I get goose bumps
all over my body
because of that smile
and I think about what
a terrible girlfriend I am to Jackson,
I start to cry
all over again.
My Nose Rejoices
It’s hard to cry
in a restaurant
with napkins
as tissues
and people staring.
But Lyric
comes over to sit beside me,
puts his arm around me,
and lets me bury my face
into his soft
baby blue t-shirt
that smells like
soap
and deodorant and
real,
live
boy.
A Real, Live Boy Friend
When I finally pull away,
he looks down at me and says,
“You were pretty brave to go back there.
Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“I think we need to change the subject or something.
Unless you like your shirt really damp.”
He laughs. “Okay.
We’ll talk about something else.
Let me get you something to drink.”
He comes back
with the order and some drinks,
and sits across from me again.
No more touching
the real
live
boy.
“Where did you two meet?”
“The bookstore.
Where I work.
Just a couple of weeks ago, actually.”
“Are you going out?”
“Nah.
I don’t really know her.
There’s this other girl I like.
But she won’t give me her number.
So, I guess we’ll just be friends.”
It makes me smile.
He smiles back,
and it feels like
we’ve been friends
forever.
A friend is good.
A girl can never
have too many friends.
So Long, Again
He drives me home.
We say good-bye.
Nothing else really.
I don’t have to tell him.
He seems to understand
it’s just too soon.
It is.
And what I know
is this:
I have
Jackson.
But is Jackson
who I really
want?
Thinking Too Hard
I shouldn’t even be thinking that question,
but it keeps popping up.
It’s there
like a dull headache
that won’t go away.
I sit on the couch
and turn the TV on
and think about
my dilemma.
I still love him.
I will always love him.
But him is the Jackson I knew.
The walking,
talking,
breathing
Jackson.
I’m just not sure
I can wholly
and completely
with everything I am
be satisfied
loving
a ghost.
And then I feel the coldness.
“Jackson,” I whisper.
“You’re here.”
Can he hear my thoughts?
Does he know?
An image of Lyric
darts in.
I shake my head.
It doesn’t help.
What is wrong with me????
Forever in Debt
The thing is,
I owe it to Jackson
to be here
for him.
I owe him that much.
If it weren’t for me,
he wouldn’t even be a ghost.
Whatever he wants,
I have to give him.
It sounds so easy.
It should
be
easy!
But repaying a debt
means giving up things.
Making sacrifices.
If I sacrifice my heart
for Jackson,
will I be dead
too?
Normal Is Nice
Jackson sits with me.
He plays with the TV
from time to time,
making the channels turn.
At first it makes me smile.
Then it gets on my nerves.
Big time.
Because he can’t talk
like a normal guy.
He can’t hold hands
like a normal guy.