the
only one who understands what I need. You know how to listen, and
you make me feel so safe. Your letter helped me see that you are
more than you seem.” She leaned toward me and kissed me softly.
With her face still close to me, she whispered, “And I think I love
you.”
The overwhelming joy that filled me is hard
to express. It was like my whole body became ignited. I wanted to
pull her tight in my arms and kiss her until our lips stopped
working, but I only kissed her once, tenderly, before I pulled back
and smiled. She needed the ‘friend’ part of ‘boyfriend’ right then.
I could be that for her. Making out was for another time. We talked
in the parking lot for two hours, went home and got on the phone
and talked again until we fell asleep.
9
I couldn’t stand to wait until Monday to
receive a note from my ghost friend. If he didn’t know already, I
wanted to tell him what happened between Bethany and me. I wanted
to thank him. I cleaned up and headed over to school. Someone would
be there, I was certain. The school’s dance team often practiced on
Saturday mornings, and there was always some kind of ACT type test
going on. I noticed as I drove that the ink heart on my hand was
nearly faded off. One more day and it would be completely gone.
I snuck into the school through a door near
the small gym, a space reserved for the cheerleaders, dancers and
show choir that had mirrors on the walls and a hardwood floor. The
girls mostly ignored me as I sneaked behind them. They were busy
learning a combination of steps. Over in the corner, Lissy stood
with another girl taking sips from her water bottle and checking
her phone messages. I guess she wasn’t in that part of the dance.
She saw me and sneered. I grinned at her and blew her a kiss. She
looked disgusted, and I heard the other girl ask, “Who’s that?” as
I went through the opposite door into the main gym. I resisted the
urge to march over to the girls and say, “I’m Bethany’s new
boyfriend. That’s who I am.” They’d find out soon enough.
I zipped through the empty hallways of the
school, aiming for my British Lit classroom. Thankfully the door
wasn’t locked, because I was certain my best shot for finding a
note from my ghost friend was going to be where I found it in the
first place. I was right. The yellow piece of paper was waiting for
me on that old desk in the back of the room. The writing on it
seemed to be fading, as if his ghostly pen was running out of
ink.
You’ve done it, son. I’m so happy and proud
of you. I wish I could have been a bigger part of your life than
this, but I’m glad to have done something to help you. Now, I need
one thing from you.
A sealed envelope was suddenly in my hand
behind the note I was reading. My friend gave me directions of what
he wanted done with it.
Fading. Must go.
“Will I hear from you again?”
No.
“What if I need you? To help me with Bethany?
I don’t want to make any mistakes. How do I do that without
you?”
I am part of you, my boy. Trust your heart.
Be strong. Be brave. But above all, be loving.
I truly hoped I could be those things.
“Thank you.”
No. It is I who thank you.
And then, so faint I could barely see it, a
ghostly word written by a ghost:
Goodbye.
10
As requested, I went straight home, walked
into my grandmother’s room and handed the envelope to her.
“Oh! A letter for me?” She was so delighted
her eyes sparkled like a child being given a lollipop.
I helped her open the envelope and unfold the
letter. The ghost hadn’t used yellow notebook paper. This was a
thick piece of parchment, smaller than an average sized piece of
paper. A musky smell wafted up from it, as if the paper had been
trying to hold the essence of the man who’d written on it. At the
top was my grandmother’s name, Eileen, written in cursive and
surrounded by a heart.
“You found them,” Grandma said to me, not
daring to look up from the letter. Her
only one who understands what I need. You know how to listen, and
you make me feel so safe. Your letter helped me see that you are
more than you seem.” She leaned toward me and kissed me softly.
With her face still close to me, she whispered, “And I think I love
you.”
The overwhelming joy that filled me is hard
to express. It was like my whole body became ignited. I wanted to
pull her tight in my arms and kiss her until our lips stopped
working, but I only kissed her once, tenderly, before I pulled back
and smiled. She needed the ‘friend’ part of ‘boyfriend’ right then.
I could be that for her. Making out was for another time. We talked
in the parking lot for two hours, went home and got on the phone
and talked again until we fell asleep.
9
I couldn’t stand to wait until Monday to
receive a note from my ghost friend. If he didn’t know already, I
wanted to tell him what happened between Bethany and me. I wanted
to thank him. I cleaned up and headed over to school. Someone would
be there, I was certain. The school’s dance team often practiced on
Saturday mornings, and there was always some kind of ACT type test
going on. I noticed as I drove that the ink heart on my hand was
nearly faded off. One more day and it would be completely gone.
I snuck into the school through a door near
the small gym, a space reserved for the cheerleaders, dancers and
show choir that had mirrors on the walls and a hardwood floor. The
girls mostly ignored me as I sneaked behind them. They were busy
learning a combination of steps. Over in the corner, Lissy stood
with another girl taking sips from her water bottle and checking
her phone messages. I guess she wasn’t in that part of the dance.
She saw me and sneered. I grinned at her and blew her a kiss. She
looked disgusted, and I heard the other girl ask, “Who’s that?” as
I went through the opposite door into the main gym. I resisted the
urge to march over to the girls and say, “I’m Bethany’s new
boyfriend. That’s who I am.” They’d find out soon enough.
I zipped through the empty hallways of the
school, aiming for my British Lit classroom. Thankfully the door
wasn’t locked, because I was certain my best shot for finding a
note from my ghost friend was going to be where I found it in the
first place. I was right. The yellow piece of paper was waiting for
me on that old desk in the back of the room. The writing on it
seemed to be fading, as if his ghostly pen was running out of
ink.
You’ve done it, son. I’m so happy and proud
of you. I wish I could have been a bigger part of your life than
this, but I’m glad to have done something to help you. Now, I need
one thing from you.
A sealed envelope was suddenly in my hand
behind the note I was reading. My friend gave me directions of what
he wanted done with it.
Fading. Must go.
“Will I hear from you again?”
No.
“What if I need you? To help me with Bethany?
I don’t want to make any mistakes. How do I do that without
you?”
I am part of you, my boy. Trust your heart.
Be strong. Be brave. But above all, be loving.
I truly hoped I could be those things.
“Thank you.”
No. It is I who thank you.
And then, so faint I could barely see it, a
ghostly word written by a ghost:
Goodbye.
10
As requested, I went straight home, walked
into my grandmother’s room and handed the envelope to her.
“Oh! A letter for me?” She was so delighted
her eyes sparkled like a child being given a lollipop.
I helped her open the envelope and unfold the
letter. The ghost hadn’t used yellow notebook paper. This was a
thick piece of parchment, smaller than an average sized piece of
paper. A musky smell wafted up from it, as if the paper had been
trying to hold the essence of the man who’d written on it. At the
top was my grandmother’s name, Eileen, written in cursive and
surrounded by a heart.
“You found them,” Grandma said to me, not
daring to look up from the letter. Her
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