Ghost Time

and a moment later, Sharon left something on the table, and I saw she’d brought me napkins to dry my face. I nodded mythank-you, and I didn’t feel sick anymore, and I didn’t feel sad or scared or angry or anything. I’m sure it was shock, but still, I almost laughed. After all, the joke was on me, because in the end, turns out, I thought right: I just made him up in my head.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2010
    (SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER)
    4:03 PM
    I hate American Apparel. Okay, I’ll shop there, but I hate their ads. Seriously, if I have to see another chick, bent over with her ass spread… And it’s always chicks, too. You never see a guy with his butt or his legs spread at the camera. Which was why I’d been working on a series, swapping men for the girls. I had an entire folder of American Apparel ads and Xeroxes of famous men I’d been working with. Some of them were pretty good, actually. Bill Clinton, that was good. But George Bush and Dick Cheney in matching micromesh bodysuits were probably my favorites. And if nothing else, it made social studies a little more interesting.
    I was working on a new ad, when I realized there was someone standing over my shoulder, staring at my drawing. And I remember… I remember the exact moment I stopped drawing and I looked up at him, and then he stood straight, stepping back,realizing his bad manners, staring over my shoulder. It’s so stupid, but I remember the moment the image of his face clicked in my brain, like the picture was taken, and I realized he was, quite possibly, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. And for some reason, I wasn’t at all surprised to find him there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, he said. Yes, you did, I said. You’re right, he said, but I didn’t mean to be rude. Despite leaning over my shoulder, staring at my notebook, I said. Well, there’s staring, and there’s staring—. Yes, and you were staring, I said, looking at him, like, come on. That’s what I’m trying to say. Exactly. And who knew? he said, tilting his head, taking one last peek at my drawing: Really, who knew Stephen Hawking was so flexible?
    That was it: that was the moment. I thought I’d find a way to discount him, to write him off, dislike him, maybe even loathe him and his beauty, but then it hit. It doesn’t happen but once in a blue moon anymore, but still. You know there’s an operation they can do to cut your blush out? Snip, snip: no more blushing. Me, it’d take more teams of surgeons than those conjoined twins, because they’d have to start disconnecting me at my hipbones. Maybe even my kneecaps. And at that moment, I felt it coming, blood like a tsunami ocean. He took a seat at the same moment I stood from the table: I need to get a drink of water, I said. No problem. I’ll be here, he said, putting his bag up on the table. Great, I said, and then, thankfully, he couldn’t see me wincing at my stupid comeback: great ? How fortunate that I was carrying my notebook, too, because otherwise, I would’ve held up my hands at myself: What was that? Great, I said, walking into the hall. That’s just great, Thea….

THURSDAY, JUNE 16, 2011
    (ELEVEN WEEKS LATER)
    4:45 PM
    We kept it quiet. For like three weeks, I didn’t see her, didn’t ask about her—I didn’t even want to think about Mel for fear that somehow, some way, someone would find out. That one day I’d get some text or I’d go home and find a video on YouTube and Knox would never let me see her again. No way: it was our birthday, so we kept it to ourselves for almost an entire month.
    So when Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told her I wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want any lawyers, I didn’t want any videos, I didn’t want any reporters or awful phone calls or e-mails or missing boyfriends. I asked if we could have dinner the next night, and if I could just have the apartment to myself for a night? I told her I didn’t want her to buy me anything, I just wanted some space. It was mean of me—I don’t even know why I was being so mean to her, but I couldn’t stop, either.
    Anyhow, we made a plan. I offered to stay with Melody fora couple hours in between the time Knox had to go to work and Heather came home, and since it was our birthday, he talked Heather into letting me spend a few hours with her, alone. When I got there, we waited until he left, and then I called a cab. I’d never called a cab before, but I told them I had a friend in a chair, and