Ghost Time (19 page)

So I called Knox a few days later and asked him if there was a time I could drop by their house, because I had something for Melody. It was just a picture I found, but I wanted it to be a surprise, I told him. He said that was very thoughtful of me, and I could stop by on Wednesday, after five o’clock, so I went over,
right after school. He let me in, and I go, You didn’t tell her I was coming, did you? He goes, I told her you were coming, and she’s been waiting for you since Sunday, he said, and I just looked at him, like, that’s so mean. Now I feel bad, I said, and he said, She’s in her room, go on up. I didn’t even make it to the door before I heard her, yelling my name:
Thea?!

She sounded so excited, I almost started laughing. Because no one ever gets that excited to see me. It’s me, I said, knocking on the door and walking in. I was afraid you weren’t coming, she said, and I go, It was supposed to be a surprise, walking in, smiling as I stepped around her chair, so that she could see me. There’s always that moment she strains, when she tries to move, but her body just won’t cooperate. I try to smile through it, seeing her like that, because I want to fix it, and I can’t. It’s something I can’t fix.

Surprise! I said, bending over, and she goes,
Hi!
and her body got all stiff with excitement. Her hair was in braids, and they were cute—I wanted to screw them up, twist them like a milkmaid, but I didn’t want Mel to feel like I’m always trying to change her. She’s perfect, really, exactly as she is—just not the way Heather dresses her. I said, Here, I brought you something, and I took the picture out of a folder in my bag, holding it up for her to see. It’s a picture of this girl, and you don’t know if she’s jumping off a ledge or a trampoline, or what, but she’s wearing shorts, and she has these long, long legs, and her blonde hair is in a ponytail, and it looks like summertime, but it’s a world where it’s always summer.

Melody goes,
Did
you
take that, Thea?
gasping, twisting in her chair, she was so impressed. I love that about her. It’s like some people wear their hearts on their sleeve; well, Melody wears her heart on her voice. No, I said, I found it on Flickr. And she goes,
What’s that?
And I go, Flickr, thinking she hadn’t heard me. You know, Flickr, I said, and she shook her head no, and I go, You mean you’ve never seen
Flickr
? She goes,
No
, and I was just like, Ohmygod, I said, Seriously, Mel, you’ve been living in a cave, and she goes,
Uh, what have I been telling you?
I said, Listen. We’ve got to fix this immediately, Mel, but she wasn’t listening, she was staring at the picture.

Do you like it? I said, trying to guess what she was thinking, and she goes,
I love it. Will you hang it up for me?
Yes, I said. Where do you want me to hang it?
Anywhere
, she said.
No, wait
, she said,
will you put it on the wall, by my bed? So I can see it when I wake up?
And I go, Of course. Do you have any tape? I asked, looking around.
Yes, but I don’t know where my mom keeps it
, she said. I’ll ask your dad later, I said, looking at the picture again. Do you really like it? I asked again, realizing I’d asked her once already, but I couldn’t help it. Because I chose it for her, and I spent all weekend, trying to decide.

I sat down on her bed, and turned her around to face me, and I go, I’ll bring you more pictures. I have thousands of pictures, so just give me some direction, and she goes,
What do you mean?
And I go, Well, what do you like about this picture? And I held it up for her again, and she goes,
I don’t know
, sounding shy all of a sudden. Then she goes,
I like the… well, her legs. God, look
how long and straight her legs are! I like how strong she is, the way she’s just firing into the sky. Is that stupid?
she asked, seeing me smile, and I go, No, no! Why would you say that? And she goes,
Well, because you looked like I made a joke or something.

I go, No, Melody. I was smiling because I couldn’t have put it that way. Honestly, and she goes,
You want to know why I like it? Really?
I go, Yes. Tell me, and she goes,
I like it, because I want to be her, and I want to jump into the sky like that. Because I look at her, and it’s like seeing the best part of being a girl. It’s the part I’m not
, she said:
free
. When she said that, I didn’t know what to say, you know, but my throat clenched, so I stared at the picture, not saying anything. And then I felt like, like I’d screwed up. Like I tried to bring her this gift, and all I thought about was the freedom of the picture, or the way I saw it, at least, and I didn’t think that she’d feel more trapped, not less.

Then she goes,
It’s all right. Really, it’s okay. I’m so happy you brought it
, she said, smiling at me, and then her eyes moved back to the picture again. I go, Wait, did you hear that, can you hear what I’m thinking, Mel? I suddenly felt paranoid she could read my mind, too, and Melody goes,
No
, laughing at me.
But I can read the look on your face
, she said.
Honestly, it’s the nicest gift anyone has ever brought me
, she said. We sat there a minute, quiet, and then she said,
Thea, do me a favor?
Course, I said, what’s that?
Show me that, what’s it called, Flickr?
she said, and I laughed. I’ll show it to you, next time I come over, and she goes,
Promise you’ll come back soon?
I go, Promise. I’ll ask your dad when I leave, and she goes,
Yeah, definitely don’t ask my mom
, and then I said, Why does she hate me, Mel? And Mel said,
She
doesn’t hate you, Thea. I think it’s just because she knows something is up, and we can’t tell her, okay? Ever.

I didn’t know what to say, and then I go, What about the picture? Will your mom take it away? And she goes,
No, it’s not like that. But just in case, tell my dad
, and I go, Tell him what, exactly?
Thea, tell him to step up and put his foot down
, she said in this tone, like,
drr
. She goes,
What did God give him legs for, you know?
I started laughing, thinking about telling Knox to put his foot down, and I go, All right. Listen, I said, I have to go. I just wanted to bring this by, and she goes,
Thank you, Thea. It’s beautiful
, and I started to say, Just like you, but I didn’t. The thing is, I knew then—I knew perfectly well that I’d wish I had for a long, long time. I’d wish I’d spoken up, that I’d been as brave as Melody was, looking at a picture of a girl jumping into the sky, free as a bird, straight as a board, and saying exactly what she thought and felt.

Standing there, in the middle of Melody’s froufrou room—it was like those people who love to boast how they’ve lived their whole life without a single regret, and I don’t know what that means. Seriously, why is that something to boast about? Because at that moment, I felt like maybe there are some regrets worth having, because they’re the kind you learn from, the kind you’ll be so happy to leave behind. Who knows when, but the day you’re finally ready to jump, when the sky calls your name, it’ll be so sweet. When I left their house that day, heading home, I knew when that day comes for me, just before I left all the regret behind of not speaking up like I should have, I knew I’d remember that picture and standing beside Melody, and that whether
she knew it or not, she was more like that girl then than I could ever be.

When their sitter got there, Knox gave me a ride home, and he saw me unzip my bag, rearranging some things. I pulled out a script, and he goes, What’s that? You writing a novel? And I go, It’s my script—well, our script—Cam and I were working on it, and I’ve been carrying it around. Oh, he said, raising his brow. So you’re working on a script together? And I shrugged, why not? We have a few different scripts, I said, and he goes, Can I ask what it’s about, your script? I go, Yes, but I won’t tell you, and he looked over at me and he goes, Why not? And I said, Because that would be telling, Knox, but he didn’t get it. I said, That would be telling,
The Prisoner
? Information! Information! He just stared, and I go, You’ve never seen
The Prisoner
? Never mind. I go, It’s a script about an arsonist in a wax museum. It’s about this guy, this mastermind arsonist who decides the crowning achievement of his brilliant career would be burning down Madame Tussauds—the one in London. He gets totally obsessed, too, like he fantasizes about watching them all burn—Marilyn, Liberace, Cher, Posh Spice, everyone is going to melt.

So he’s got it all planned, I said, every last detail, but then, when he gets there, he falls in love with this girl working at the gift store. So it’s all about this guy fighting with his demons, because what could top burning down Madame Tussauds? I said, It’s such a perfect crime, he almost wants to get caught, so people will know, you know? So it’s all that, watching this woman from afar, and then Knox goes, Do they have a gift shop at Madame Tussauds? I said, Of course they do. I mean, how could they not
have a gift shop? He goes, Just asking. To be honest, I don’t know if they do, so I said, Well, maybe that will be fictional; we’ll figure it out. That’s why we’re going to go and research the place, and Knox goes,
London?

He didn’t believe me, I could tell by the look on his face. I said, As my graduation gift, then Knox goes, But that’s more than two years away, and I go, What’s your point? Knox could tell he’d hit a sore spot, because he goes, So what happens to the arsonist? Honestly, I was so relieved to be able to talk about something besides sex videos of me and my boyfriend, I told him the whole story. I go, Keep in mind, this guy isn’t just any old arsonist. We’re talking totally sexy, totally hot arsonist—. Knox goes, A hot arsonist? trying not to laugh at me, and I go, You know what I mean. Stylin’, wearing Savile Row suits, like James Bond. Like, imagine Daniel Craig as the greatest pyromaniac in history. Imagine that he’s an arsonist for hire, instead of an assassin for hire, right? Knox goes, Daniel Craig, huh? I shrugged and said, The role calls for a sex symbol, what can I say? After all, Knox, arson
is
a sexual crime. Where’d you hear that? he asked, looking like this was news to him. I go, I don’t know,
Law & Order
, maybe? And he goes, Well, in that case, it must be true, raising his eyebrows, and I said, Isn’t that strange, though? That they say rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power, but arson isn’t about power, it’s about sex? Very strange, he said, as in, no further comment.

He goes, Okay, so the Daniel Craig arsonist character falls in love with the girl in the gift shop, and then he kills her? I go, Yes, but it’s an accident, and Knox goes, But he sets the museum
on fire on purpose? And I go, Yes, but Daniel Craig doesn’t know she’s in the building when he sets it on fire, see? And Knox goes, So she dies? The girl dies, he says, looking at me, making sure he’s got the story right. I go, Of course: it’s a love story. Somebody has to die in a good love story. Then he goes, Well, it sounds very interesting, and he sounded like such a dad, saying that, I was just like, Gee, thanks. Sometimes, the way Knox looks at me and the questions he asks, it’s like he’s never talked to a teenage girl before. Seriously, Knox looks at me like I’m from a distant galaxy, and here he is, the very first earthling to ask me questions about where I came from, what our planet looks like, what food we eat. And maybe all old men are like that; I don’t know. Fortunately or unfortunately, I don’t know many old men.

Then he said, The arson story, do you have a title for it? I said, Yes. It’s called “Pyroglyphics,” and he raises his eyebrows, and he goes, Catchy. Can I read it sometime? he said, and for once, I was the one who was surprised. It was sweet of him to ask, you know, and I said, Sure. Then I thought it over for a second, and I said, But I’ll have to ask Cam, first. It’s his script, too, and Knox looked at me: Of course, he said, sitting upright again.

He sighed again, still staring straight ahead. Honestly, Knox has about as many varieties of sighs as Eskimos have for the word for snow. And then, completely out of the blue, Knox goes, Thea, tell me about your dad. I was like, What? And he goes, I asked about your father, and I said, Speaking of love stories that end in death, you mean? No, he said. No, because you never mention him. Yeah, well, what was your first clue? I said. Go on, he said, tell me what happened. Okay, well… I sighed. Let’s see, I said.
Once upon a time, he was a prick, and that’s it in a nutshell, pretty much. I shrugged, nothing else to add, and Knox goes, Yes? He wasn’t asking for his job, he was asking because he truly wanted to know, and no one besides Cam ever really asked me anything genuine anymore, so I told him.

He left my mom for his secretary, I said, feeling angry all over again. Seriously, Knox, who does that? Men who buy sports cars and have comb-overs, that’s who, and Knox goes, Does he have a comb-over? I go, No, he 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 wish
me 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.