Ghost Time

has good hair, actually. But he does have a sports car and a wife who’s half his age, I said, before pointing my finger down my throat: gag. Knox didn’t say anything; he just looked out his window. My mom was such a mess, too, I said. And you? he said, and I said, And me what? He goes, How were you? And when he said that, so many things came to mind, but all I could say was, Not good. I’m sorry, Thea, he said.
    I just nodded, pursed my lips. Finally, I said, Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything, and Knox goes, Don’t have to do a thing to be sorry, do you? Guess not, I said. Men are just so fucked up, I said, and it was stupid, but it’s true. Knox raised a brow at my language, but I’m sorry, that’s how I really feel sometimes, and then he said, Thea. He started to say something else, then he dropped it. Instead, he said, When was the last time you two spoke, you and your dad? I said, Four months and two years, actually: Christmas, 2008. Thea , he said, and I go, What? He had this paternal look on his face, too, and then he goes, Well, I don’t know, but he is your father. I go, You should remind him of that, not me. He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he goes, So why don’t you tell me how it is? I go, Knox, he didn’t call to wishme a Merry Christmas; he called to tell me that his new wife was pregnant. Knox balked: Two years ago? Yes, I said. And did she have the baby? he said. Apparently, I said, because he sent a birth announcement. Boy or girl? he asked, and I said, Don’t know. I never opened the envelope, and just then, we reached my house, our building. Well, Knox said, pulling up, under our apartment, not knowing what else to say: here we are. I looked up, seeing the light on, and I go, Thanks, and I got out. I waited outside our front door, waving Knox off, and then I turned back around and sat down on the top stair.
    I didn’t want to go inside, so I sat there, watching cars drive by on the highway. You know, I remember our old house, our old life, all the time. I try not to, because it hurts, but without even closing my eyes, I can still see every room in our house, and I remember exactly how my room looked when I woke up in the morning, how the living room looked at sunset. I remember falling in love with light, there, sitting on the couch in the living room, trying to draw the window or a chair.
    I know my mom feels the same, even if she never says anything. I mean, I don’t understand when I see women talk about starting over on TV, like it’s this big adventure, this new chapter of life, right? Because they make it sound so easy to start over, but when it’s just me and mom at night, eating dinner on the couch, watching TV in that dinky little apartment, it’s like we haven’t started over, we’ve false-started. Like we started running, but we got called back, and now we’re just waiting for something to fire the gun again.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2011
    (SEVEN WEEKS EARLIER)
    1:47 PM
    I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but for once in my life, I loved Valentine’s Day. Honestly, long as I live, I’ll never forget it, because we had this snowstorm, and it dumped like three feet in two days, so we got the day off from school. Cam called me at six thirty—it might’ve even been six, he was so excited to go out and play. I’m in bed, cocooned in my covers, half-asleep, so my voice cracks. Hello? And he goes, Snow day! Thee, isn’t that the best Valentine’s you can imagine? Let’s go play in the snow! And I go, I’ve got a better idea. Let’s play in bed—let’s play the sleeping game, huh? And he goes, I’m on my way, and I was just like, Ohmygod, what am I going to do with you? Cali boy had never had a snow day before he moved to Fort Marshall, so it was like Christmas to him.
    So he came right over, after we hung up, and we made French toast and screwed around for a while, watching Battlestar Galactica . After I got dressed and bundled up, we drove to this abandoned parking lot halfway between my house and town. There was no one there, and the parking lot and the field beyond, it looked like it was a mile long, mile wide, covered in three feet of snow. Just a powder-white sky, powder-white ground, and this curtain of snowflakes. I reached for my camera, and I looked at Cam, like, Isn’t that the most beautiful thing? He grinned, nodding, then he goes, Virgin, the smart-ass, and I slapped him with the back of my hand, Be quiet.
    Cam brought