Authors: Lilian Carmine
“Okay! That’s it. There’s something seriously wrong with the both of you. I’m taking you two to the hospital! Go downstairs and wait for me. Now, where did I leave the car keys?” Mom rambled in obvious panic.
I left her there and dragged myself downstairs, stopping at the front door. I felt horrible; I just wanted to curl up in a small ball and die already. I glanced at the living room and remembered I needed to check on Tristan. He was lying unconscious on the couch, eyes closed, his face pale like death. His hair was all drenched in sweat and he was trembling again. I walked towards him, and slowly slipped to the floor in front of the couch.
I leaned my head on the couch seat and extended my arm, resting my hand on Tristan’s bare smooth chest. The tingling sensation came back, sharp and strong, and to my upmost surprise, I immediately felt better, like someone had just given me a shot with the most amazing, powerful drug ever!
I sighed in relief. The headache subsided unnaturally quickly and my stomach calmed down. I looked over to Tristan, then realization hit me! My mom was stepping down the stairs in a hurry, car keys dangling in one hand and her purse in the other, when I called out for her.
“Mom! We weren’t listening properly!” I said, smiling weakly at her. “I’m fine now, we don’t need to go to the hospital. I just need to be close to him! That’s what Miss Violet said. Every time I’m far from him, I feel awful, but when I’m close I feel good. And look – Tristan was trembling and sweating a minute ago, but now he looks a lot better!”
“Yes, she did say that if you stayed close to him, you two would be fine,” my mom said thoughtfully. “Nothing about tonight obeys any logic, so I might as well believe in that.”
“I think I’ll just hang here for a while,” I said, laying my head on the couch and thinking I would rest my eyes just for a few seconds …
I vaguely remember my mom struggling to lift me up and put me on the couch next to Tristan, and then a blanket covering us up, turning everything soft and warm and safe.
I remember feeling his breath on me, the warmth radiating from his body and the lingering smell of his sweat mixed with his own natural scent. And the tingling sensation all over my body throughout that night …
I woke up and I was lying on the floor, but it felt odd because it was soft and grainy beneath me. When I stood up, I noticed I was actually lying on sand: warm, silvery, light sand. I couldn’t see any ocean, only a beautiful desert as far the eye could see. I looked up at a moonless sky, full of infinite glittering stars and, although there wasn’t any source of light, I could see everywhere perfectly.
There was a small black dot far away on the sand. Someone was there. I walked slowly in the person’s direction, since there wasn’t anything else to do in this alien place. As I got closer, I saw that it was in fact a girl, around my age, maybe a year or two younger. She was sitting on the sand, watching me approach. She had long black hair and big, round black eyes too, just like mine, but she was wearing heavy eyeshadow and eyeliner. She also wore lots of necklaces and bracelets, a tight ragged top, pants and boots, all as black as the sky above.
She eyed me curiously and, despite her heavy make-up, her face was almost angelical.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello,” she greeted me in return.
“This is a weird dream,” I mumbled to myself.
She frowned, like she couldn’t disagree more.
“Why are you here, Joe?” the weird goth-looking girl asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just … here. Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” I said with a shrug.
“But you shouldn’t be. It’s best that you go now,” she said.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere but here. He’ll find you here,” she said, looking around uneasily.
“Who will?” I asked.
I looked to her left, and a blurred gray silhouette was starting to appear.
“Just wake up, Joe,” she ordered. “It’s for your own good.”
I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, bright sunlight invaded my sight. I blinked a couple more times, trying to adjust to the change of scenery. Dark moonless sky was now a bright sunny day.
I tried to make my brain start working, but my thoughts felt sluggish and murky. I glanced at my surroundings and realized I wasn’t in my bed; I was lying on our living-room couch. Parts of the previous night started to drift back. New Year’s Eve, cemetery, fireworks, pain … and ghosts. I shifted slightly and then realized a boy’s arm was draped heavily around me. Tristan’s arm. We had both slept on the couch! I smiled as I remembered hoping for a midnight kiss, and we had actually slept together last night. Literally speaking, that is, but still …
His hands loosely held mine. He had long, thin fingers; pianist hands … Mine looked so small beneath his. It was so intimate, the way he held me in his sleep. I could feel his face snuggled comfortably against the back of my neck, and the warmth of his breath on my skin.
I shifted slowly, trying not to wake him. He sighed heavily, but then he just rolled over and went back to sleep again.
I was free to move, so I turned over to look at him, resting my face on the couch. He slept so peacefully, his dark locks of black hair all messed up, falling over his calm face. His bare chest was uncovered, smooth and well shaped, moving up and down with the slow rhythm of his breathing. He didn’t have a single hair on his chest, just a little trail below his belly button, heading … south.
The soft blanket covered him to the waistline. Then I remembered he was actually kind of naked under there and I felt my face turning red. I started climbing off the couch, to give him some privacy, when he blinked slowly, awakened by the movement.
I froze, not too sure what to do now. He looked confused for a second, but then he turned his face in my direction and his eyes registered me. And he smiled. His eyes crinkled a little and glinted in the sunlight that bathed the room. I was in awe of his eyes.
“Your eyes are still … really … gray,” I muttered to myself.
He looked bemused; I guess it was a strange thing to say.
“Yours are still black as night,” he replied softly.
“How are you feeling?” I asked in concern. It had been a rough night.
He raised his right arm, flexing his fingers, looking at his hand like it was the first time he’d been able to do this.
“It hurts all over,” he said, wincing, and then grinned widely. “It’s great!”
I frowned. “It’s great hurting all over?” I asked, bewildered.
“It’s better to feel pain but be alive than to feel nothing at all,” he said quietly “It sucks being dead.”
I thought about that for a minute in silence. “You should have told me. About your … condition,” I said with a hint of sadness in my voice. “You didn’t trust me.”
He looked at me with a guilty expression. “I thought you’d be scared …”
“I don’t scare easily. I told you that.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, Joey,” he said, and reached out towards me, brushing the side of my face gently with his fingers. It tingled lightly, but not like it had last night. Now the sensation was much more faint.
“You’re the bravest person I know. And I trust you with my life,” he added.
I looked into his eyes, and saw how much he meant it, the sincerity of his words. It made me smile.
“Do you remember what happened at the cemetery, when midnight struck? What you said to me?” he asked.
I paused, trying to gather up my memories. They felt like shifting sand, trickling through my fingers. It felt like a dream slipping away piece by piece after waking up.
“Not really … it’s all hazy and jumbled,” I confessed.
“Listen, I gotta tell you something about yesterday …” he started to say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. But then, as he realized something, he stopped.
“Hey, I can touch you now! How amazing is that?” he whispered, wonder lighting up his face.
He leaned his face slowly closer to mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. One inch closer and his lips were going to touch mine …
Chapter Eight
Compromise
Apparently, the universe disagreed about that, because the front door burst open at that exact second. My mom’s voice called out to us from the hall.
Tristan and I both jumped two feet off the couch, surprised as hell by her sudden arrival. I sat up straight, patting my hair, while Tristan pushed the covers up to his chest and leaned on his elbows for support.
I glanced at him and he looked a little flustered, his cheeks slightly pink. It was the first time I’d seen some color on his face: he was always so dead pale! I guess that was down to him being a ghost, but what was he now? Was he human?
My mom entered the living room, carrying a bunch of shopping bags. She must have found the only stores in town open on New Year’s Day. “Hey, guys! You look like you were still sleeping!” she greeted us happily.
“Hum, yeah, we were. We were woken up by you slamming the door right now,” I said, lying through my teeth. I glanced at Tristan and a tiny, almost imperceptible smile curled the side of his lips.
“I had to go out. I was worried about leaving you alone after last night … but you looked like you were fine sleeping, so I risked it,” she said, smiling. “You two look a lot better, by the way.”
“Yeah, I feel a lot better,” I said realizing it for the first time, while Tristan nodded. “What time is it?”
“It’s three in the afternoon already. Come on, Joey, help me prepare something for you two to eat in the kitchen. We have a lot to talk about,” she said, pointing towards the kitchen.
“Okay. Just give me a sec, I’ll go change and brush my teeth, I’ll be right back,” I said, patting my hair and realizing I must look like hell, wearing my old sleeping sweats and my hair like a bird’s nest. I was so embarrassed!
“Alrighty. Tristan, I couldn’t wait for you to wake up to ask what clothes you prefer, so I decided to go on my own. A girl at the store helped me pick them up for you; she guaranteed they were the latest fashion thing, very … tight!” Mom said, unsure about modern slang. “I didn’t know your size, so I just guessed. I hope it all fits!” she said as she handed him the collection of bags.
He took them while trying to get up and cover himself with the blanket, all at the same time, resulting in a small avalanche of bags falling over him. Typical of my mother: whenever she needed to cope with stressful situations, she went shopping! By the amount of bags on Tristan’s lap, she must be pretty stress-free now …
“T-thanks so much, Mrs. Gray. I don’t know how I’ll repay you …” he began, but Mom cut him off.
“Nonsense. It’s just a couple of things, you can’t go around wrapped in blankets!” she said, dismissing his gratitude. “Joey! You’re still there? Come on, chop, chop! Tristan, the bathroom is upstairs and right off the hallway, first door to your right. Take your time. We’ll be in the kitchen all right? Call me if you need anything. But when you’re both dressed and we’ve had something to eat, we will have a serious talk.”
She turned and walked to the kitchen. She was like a special kind of a hurricane, my mom. I shrugged and smiled at Tristan’s surprised face, and then darted upstairs to get myself cleaned up and presentable.
Soon enough, I was ready and stepped downstairs all perky in my new jeans, my favorite sweater and my hair tied back in my usual pony-tail. I peeked at the living room. Tristan wasn’t there, but I heard water running in the hallway bathroom. I went on in to the kitchen where my mom was at the stove, frying some eggs.
“Hey, Mom, I’m here. What can I do to help?”
“You can set the table, get some glasses, orange juice, milk. I think I’ll do a big brunch for you two, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds great,” I said uneasily.
“Is Tristan all right in there?” she asked with her back to me.
“I think so … He’s in the bathroom now.”
“You know, if I hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, I would have never believed it,” my mom said thoughtfully.
“I’m trying not to think about it. It’s too surreal,” I mumbled.
“Joey, honey. You know we do need to talk about it, don’t you? I mean, this is too crazy! Do you really believe in what those old ladies were saying? Do you think Tristan was really a … a ghost?” she asked, turning to look me straight in the eyes.
I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what to think, Mom, honestly. I punched him in the chest last night, and it went right through him! And you couldn’t see him, but I’ve been talking to him and meeting him for days!” I said in a shaky voice.
“And this is where you were hanging out? The cemetery?”
I nodded, staring at my lap. “I know I should have told you. I’m sorry, Mom. But you would have made it into a big deal, and said it’s dangerous, but I knew I was safe with Tristan!”
“How could you possibly know that, Joey? You just met him!” she said, upset.
“I just know, all right! I mean, look at him! Do you think he could hurt anyone? He’s so polite and kind and sweet!” I exclaimed.
“You’re letting your judgment be clouded by his good looks, honey,” she said with a knowing smile.
My cheeks flamed in embarrassment and I snapped, “It’s not like that, Mom! He’s my friend! Fine, he was lying to me about the ‘ghost’ thing, but he explained everything! He was scared of my reaction. And, I mean, can you blame him? I wanted to run away the second I discovered he was a ghost! This is not exactly easy news to share with someone,” I grumbled, fumbling with the hem of my shirt.
“Yeah, but honey, what the heck happened last night?” my mom wailed, her eyes wide as she remembered Tristan’s materialization out of thin air.
“I’m not sure … I think it’s something to do with the time, and the place … Miss Violet might know something; she was there with her two old friends. She seemed to know Tristan was a ghost all along,” I muttered, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Had one of the old ladies also mentioned they were witches?
My mother nodded. “Yes, I think so too. That’s why I have invited her to come talk to us today. Maybe she can shed some light on this mystery for us,” she said thoughtfully. “And maybe the boy could have some answers as well,” she added and paused, deep in thought. Then she shook her head, snapping out of her wonderings. “Anyway, as I said, we can all talk about it later, after we’ve put something in our stomachs, all right?” And she resumed her egg frying.