Ghosted

by J.M. Darhower

Everything I do is all about her—anything to keep the smile on her face, because that smile is what keeps me going. It’s the reason I get out of bed in the morning. That smile tells me I’m doing okay

In a world filled with so much wrong, it’s nice to know I’m doing something right

The girl loves storms. I can’t remember the last time I played in the rain. That’s what I think as I watch her running through the small front yard, splashing in the puddles and stomping in the mud. Did I ever have that much fun? Was my life ever that carefree? I can’t remember. I wish I could

I use the time to gather up laundry, trying to distract myself, but it’s pointless. My mind keeps going back to him

“Huh, let me guess—they find a cure and live happily ever after?” “It’s not over yet. There’s still one more issue left.” “But you have the others?” “Yes.” “Bring them to me,” you say. “Let me read them.” She gives you a horrified look. “Why in the world would I do that?” “Because we’re in ‘fuck your clubs’ club together.” “You didn’t join.” “I still might.”

“Deflection helps no one, you know,” he says. “It’s a defense mechanism that keeps us from acknowledging our problems.”

I know I should probably leave her alone, not risk pushing her too far, too quickly, but I’ve missed the fuck out of her these past few years. I don’t deserve her time, not in the least, but I’m so desperate for some part of this woman back that I’ll steal every second that I can get.

“Like nothing had ever hurt you as much as me being there did,” I say. “Up until then, I only saw your anger, but that day I saw your fear, like you were afraid of how much more pain I was going to cause you, when I wanted nothing more than to make it all better.”

I know I was never enough for you, Jonathan, but I hope you find something that is.”

“And you don’t go all invisible?” “No,” I say. “I’m normal, too.” She scowls. I feel like I’m telling the kid Santa isn’t real. “But you’re a hero,” she says. “I seen it on the TV, so maybe you don’t gotta disappear, so then you can stay and don’t have to go away now.”

We do. Usually, I spiral after showing up in Bennett Landing. I’d go on a bender and binge my heart out and not stop until I was so fucking numb someone could’ve shot me and I wouldn’t have felt it.

She looks disappointed, pouting. I want to take it back. I want to tell her I’ll go anywhere she wants me to go,

You’re the queen, baby… I’m just a commoner.” “Did you just…?” She stares at you as you push her onto her back and hover over her. “Oh my god, you seriously just quoted Breezeo to me.” “Foreplay,” you say. “Besides, it’s a good line.”

“I don’t care what else you do in the future, even when you’re the biggest movie star in the world… the dead kid on Law & Order will always be my favorite part you’ve played.”

And you don’t know this, but that girl? She realizes, as your car speeds away, that she’s desperately falling in love with you. Her body’s sore, and her chest aches, her heart pounding wildly. She hasn’t had a moment of sleep, but that matters not a bit. She’s sky-high, and nothing can bring her down from this euphoria—not even when a nosy neighbor tells her father all about the blue Porsche that spent the night parked in the driveway. Not even when he notices the love bites around her neck from your frantic lips. Not even when he threatens to take your manhood and tells her she’s grounded for the rest of her life. Because the night that girl just spent with you? Worth it.

I love Kennedy and Jonathan’s story :)

“No, I think she’s going to be the happiest kid on the planet, which is half the problem. Because what happens if he lets her down?” “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not something you can control. Will she ever be disappointed? Probably. But he’ll love her, because who wouldn’t? And if he’s making an effort, she deserves a chance to love him in return.”

He pauses near the small hallway that leads to the bedrooms, his gaze meeting mine again. I know what he’s thinking. I’m not sure how, or even why, but the moment our eyes connect, it’s like being shoved back in time—to another place, a different apartment, one somehow even smaller, but it was our home for a while.

“We wanted to talk to you about something,” I tell her. “About why Jonathan is here.” “To play with me?” she asks. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Well, I mean, maybe, but that’s not really it. You see, I’ve known him for a long time, since before you came into my life, sweetheart.” “Oh.” She stares at me. “So he’s gonna play with you, then?”

Ugh, I can feel my cheeks heating.

“But where was he at?” She’s asking me, not him. I know it’s because she trusts me implicitly, and as much as she adores what she believes he is, she doesn’t yet know Jonathan. But I don’t know how to answer that, or if I even should. I don’t know if I should be the one to explain his absence, to make his excuses. “I wasn’t where I should’ve been,” he chimes in. “I should’ve been with you, but I was…” “Sick,” I say when he struggles for words. “Sick,” he says.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “I wish I had even half of her energy. Bottle it up and take it with me for those late nights on set.” “Guess it beats the coke, huh?” His expression falls when I say that. Right away, I feel like crap. Ugh. “Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s fine,” he says. “I deserve whatever you throw at me.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of cheating. I just wanted to know how long it took you to move on.” “Oh, well, that’s an easy one,” he says. “It hasn’t happened.”

“Love you more than Saturday mornings.”

You don’t know this, but that girl? She doesn't need a house. She doesn't even need an apartment. She would’ve slept in the car. She wouldn’t have complained at all about it. You didn’t have to sell it, but you did, and as grateful as she is for that, she already feels guilty. She’s worried, and she’s scared, that this won’t be a story of triumph. Because she believes in you. She wouldn’t be there if she didn’t. But the world isn’t always kind to good people. Sometimes it eats them alive.

“I love you, too,” he says. “More than bacon?” she asks, munching on a piece. “More than bacon,” he says quietly. “More than everything.”

My chest aches, my heart feeling like it wants to burst. I sometimes wonder about his words, I question his feelings, his wishes, his wants, but from this moment on, I’ll never doubt that he loves her, because I know he means it. I believe it. We eat breakfast.

I mourn the years they lost, the time that was wasted, the love that maybe just wasn’t quite enough to overcome his demons sooner. Every smile they share today is the product of years of tears, of years of fighting and struggling and hoping and mourning but never, ever, ever quitting or giving up, because we’re here. And maybe it won’t last, I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow something will happen and the tears will come back, but I’m grateful for the moment, knowing he loves her more than anything.

“Thank you, K.” “What are you thanking me for?” “Giving me a second chance,” he says. “And a third, and a forth, and a fifth…” “And a twentieth.” He laughs lightly. “And a twentieth.” “There won’t be a twenty-first,” I tell him. “I have to draw the line somewhere.”

You don’t know this, but that woman? Even as she smiles, she’s utterly terrified. Your love is more than enough for her, but she feels pieces of it slipping away. Something inside of her is disintegrating. Her dream. She’s losing it. She came here with you, not quite realizing what you were going through. You felt invisible, and you were desperate for an audience, but where does that leave your love? Because the more people who see you, it seems, the less you see her. And she can’t even tell her story now, not the way she wants, because her voice has been stolen and no one will ever get the chance to read her words.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” he whispers. “I never wanted to hurt you.” “I know.” I push him back on the bed just enough to crawl onto his lap. My hands frame his face as I make him look at me. “I know, Jonathan. You've always wanted to make me feel good.” “Because I love you,” he says. “More than whiskey?” I ask. “More than whiskey,” he agrees. “More than cocaine.” “More than models-slash-actresses?” “I don’t even like them most days. But I love you. I swear to fuck, I’ve loved you since before my eighteenth birthday when we sat on your father’s couch and watched me play dead on television.” “My favorite thing you’ve ever done,” I whisper, kissing him. “You still owe me that autograph, dead kid on Law & Order.”

It’s clearly not, though, so I hit the button to send her a request to FaceTime, because the texting shit isn’t cutting it. I want to look at her.

You’re the caterpillar that went into the cocoon and emerged a glorious butterfly, but I’m the reminder that butterflies don’t stick around long, a few weeks at most before they’re gone.

Your dream has become my nightmare, and I’m begging you to let me wake up.

You don’t know this, but the woman you love? The one you hung around for in New York when she was still just a girl, even though you were suffering, and wanting to go, but you stayed because of love? That woman, right now, is doing the same thing for you.

Jonathan always was a dreamer, walking around with stars in his eyes.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from it all, it’s that we have to be our own heroes. No guy in a costume is coming to save us. We have to save ourselves.

“Because the real world could never compete with what awaited you out there. And maybe you love me—” “I do.” “But love doesn’t give you a free pass to come and go. I can’t live somewhere with a revolving door.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your dream. I’m asking you to share it. Your work, it’s important, I know, but she’s important, too. You can’t get caught up and forget she’s sitting at home waiting for you. Because you live in a big, big world now, but hers is very small. A day without you is going to be like a day without the sun. Don’t let her days go dark.”

“Never make someone else the main character in your own story.” * * * “I’m gonna go to work.”

“I’m ready to do some lines!” she says, grinning, again wearing her Breezeo costume. Jonathan laughs. “Ready to run lines, you mean.”

He laughs again. I’m flustered, no doubt about it, and parts of me still ache, but when I hear Maddie’s excitement as they start reading, I’m overcome with this sense of peace. I can’t help but smile. It’s all I’ve wanted for years.

Picking up the discarded copy of Hollywood Chronicles, I tear out a photo from the cover, the one where Jonathan is smiling. The rest of the paper, I throw in the trash. Pulling out my broken box of old mementos, I set the photo in. As strange as it may seem to keep, it’s our first real picture together as a family.

“I used to wonder what could possibly be worse than being invisible,” he says, and I know he’s reciting a line, because it’s word-for-word from the comic. “What could be lonelier than always being by yourself?” “I think I know now,” I whisper, turning a few pages until I come to the scene.

“Worse is loving someone who disappears and never knowing if they’ll come back. Because how do you move on if you’re not even sure they’re gone? The answer is—you don’t. When you spend most of your life chasing ghosts, eventually, you become one.”

I’m in love with this reckless, starry-eyed fool who, in two days time, is going to walk out my front door, and all I can do is trust he’ll come back with that same look of love in his eyes, because if he doesn’t, it’s going to break more hearts than just my own.

“It will! You didn’t wanna be my daddy then, and now you don’t wanna again! You wanna go away and you’re not gonna live here no more, ‘cuz you have all your stuff and it’s gonna be gone and you won’t be here to tell Mommy she’s pretty so now she can’t never love you!”

It’s strange how much perspective can change in such a short amount of time.

“Dreams change,” he says. “The way I was living... I was miserable. I want my life back, and I’m taking it back, because I’ve wasted too much time. I’ll never give up on acting. It’s who I am. But it’s not all I am. I’m a father, and I want to be the man you thought I’d be. I’d be so much happier doing community theater, if it came to that, as long as I got to come home to you, than I ever was being Johnny Cunning without you. So if you want forever, goddamn it, I’ll be there.”

Jonathan had sold his mansion in LA and built a house in Bennett Landing, down the road from the Landing Inn, making them McKleski’s neighbors. He’d proposed on a whim, although he’d had the ring for a while, and to his surprise, she’d said yes without even needing to think about it. He worried for a moment that they might be moving too fast, but he realized it didn’t matter. He’d lost too much time as it was. He wasn’t going to waste another

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, smiling, a glow on her flushed cheeks. And before she could even open her mouth again, before she could say the words, he already knew, but it still didn’t fail to shock him to the core when she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”