Ghost Time

of those old uniforms, he said, and I said, Who, Sharon? And he said, Sharon! Yes, that’s the one thing I’d change, but nothing else. Not one thing, he said, and the way he looked at me, grinning, I knew he meant more than Silver Top. He meant us, the two of us, together, that moment. Will you just look at this view, he said, turning his head, looking over his shoulder at the motel satellite dish, across the parking lot. He goes, Who needs Paris? And I said, Very funny, and he goes, I’m not kidding, Thea, then he folded his hands on top of the booth. Don’t move—don’t move!, I said, grabbing mysketchbook, and I started drawing his hands. When I finished, I turned the book around, holding it just above his hands, so he could compare the two, and he looked at me. I couldn’t take it, ten, fifteen seconds, okay, but finally, I had to ask: What, already? And he goes, You’re amazing, and that’s when I blushed. Can I look? he asked, meaning my sketchbook, and I shrugged sure, pushing it toward him.
    He looked at every single picture, and I just tried to stare out the window, pretend I didn’t care, and then, finally, like twenty minutes later, he sat back, shaking his head, and he goes, You should put these up—you got to put these up—I’ll help you set up a Flickr account tonight if you want, and I just looked at him, like, Drr. I said, I know how to set up a Flickr account, okay? Just because I’m not good at geometry doesn’t mean I’m a complete moron, and he goes, Then do it! I go, No. I don’t want to, or I would have by now, and he goes, You’re so good—these drawings are so fucking good, why don’t you show them? And I go, Because I don’t want to, that’s why. He goes, Thea, come on—I’m sorry, but you gotta show your work—you’re too good not to, and I said, Excuse me, but I don’t have to do anything. It’s mine, they’re mine, not yours, okay? All of a sudden, I was so angry, and I didn’t even know why.
    So Cam sat back, and I could see in his eyes he knew he crossed a line. He goes, You’re right, nodding in agreement with me. It’s yours, your work. But can I ask why you don’t show it? If I could draw like that, Thea, and I go, Because. Because this, I said, touching my notebook, folding it up: this is private. This is the one place I have all to myself; it’s mine, and it’s… it’ssafe. When I’m here, I’m… I’m okay. So leave it alone, all right? He goes, I’m sorry, and he started leaning forward, pressing his hands on the tabletop, and for a second I thought he was going to grab my hands or something, and I was just like, Dude. No moments: I’m not having a moment with you. Let’s just get that straight. Sharon came over to check on us: How you kids doing? she said, and Cam gave her this big old smile and he goes, We’re perfect.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 2011
    (NINE WEEKS LATER)
    9:21 PM
    You know, it had gotten to where I couldn’t go outside, and I couldn’t answer my phone, and I couldn’t check my e-mail—Mom neither—neither one of us. Our life had become a circus, it really had. We’d become prisoners, and let me tell you, you don’t need an island to get lost. Anyhow, we were sitting at the table, eating dinner—I was trying to eat dinner, and mom was drinking—and she brought it up again, saying Dad called. He keeps calling, I guess, but right away, I go, Mom, it’s my life, and it’s my dad, not yours, okay? She let out this heavy sigh, putting down her glass, then she got up and left the room, and she came right back, carrying a stack of three shoe boxes.
    She put them on the table, and she goes, These are for you, and I go, Are they yours? Because if they were from my dad, I wasn’t touching them. They were mine, she said, but I’ve been saving them. Go on, open them, she said. So I pulled the boxesover and took off the lids, and they were full of hundreds of mixed tapes of all these old bands from the eighties and nineties. All these punk bands, new wave, hardcore, and the inserts had been doodled on, designed in markers, all these colors of ink.
    I didn’t know what to say, it was such a goldmine. She’d never mentioned it to me, either, and I was just like, Wow, this is so cool! Then she goes, I wish you could’ve known him—I don’t know, when we were younger. I don’t how to explain, really, except that I wish you had known him at his best. I’m sorry you didn’t, but you see these? He made half of these for me,