Ghosted

by J.M. Darhower

“I know, but what you should do is save the checks and cash them all at once. Wipe out his account. Then go riding off into the sunset in your brand new Ferrari.” “I don’t want a Ferrari.” “I do,” he says. “You could buy me one.”

When’s the last time you even had any fun?” “Fun.” I consider that. “Does jumping in front of a car count?”

You have an audience today, as you act your heart out, and she’s captivated.

You don’t know this, but that girl? She gathers up her Breezeo comics as soon as she gets home. All fourteen issues in all three storylines—Transparent, Shadow Dancer, and Ghosted. She spends the weekend re-reading them, just so they’re still fresh in her mind, so when she brings them to school for you to borrow, she remembers every single line.

OMG STOP THIS IS THE CUUUUUTEST SHIT EVER

At the moment, I don’t know much of anything, except that he’s here, in front of me, telling me everything I’ve yearned to hear for a long, long time, and I’m letting him walk away like it all means nothing.

“Just know that I don’t love them nearly as much as I love you.” She kicks her feet, grinning. “I love you, too.” “More than chocolate ice cream and Saturday mornings?” “Uh-huh,” she says. “More than colors and money!” “No way.” “And the Yoo-Hoo drinks and Happy Meal toys.” “Whoa.” “And even more than Breezeo!” Eyes wide, I look at her. That’s some serious commitment coming from my superhero-loving girl. “You know, you can love us the same.” “Nuh-uh,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re my mommy, so I love you more.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I say when she trails off. “I know that’s what you’re afraid of.” “Yeah, well, didn’t think you’d hurt me, either, but the moment I became an inconvenience…”

I want to tell her it’s different now. I want to tell her that I’ve learned my lesson, that I’ve grown up. I want to tell her that I’ll never make those same mistakes again. I want to tell her she’s never been an inconvenience. I want to tell her a lot of shit, but none of it will make a difference. They’re just words, and I’ve said a lot of words over the years, including a few that have hurt her.

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

“You punched a fellow student!” “We were just acting,” you say. “I’m Brutus. He’s Caesar. It’s to be expected.” “Brutus stabs him. He doesn’t throw punches.” “I was improvising.”

But by then end, he wouldn’t even give me a minute. A minute was all I asked for.

Cue Billie Joe's outburst

“Mister Rogers,” she says. “He wants you to be his neighbor. Bob Ross, he’s nice, too. He’ll paint you a happy little cloud. Hell, how about one of the Cleavers? Why not go out with one of them?” “Pretty sure they’re all dead.” “Yeah, well, so is your vagina at this rate.”

“My name’s Jonathan, though. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She grabs his hand, shaking it wildly. “Mommy calls me Maddie. You can call me Maddie, too!” “Maddie,” he repeats.

:') <333

“I gots it,” she says, matter-of-fact, although she doesn’t, leaving a trail of kale around us like Hansel & Gretel with breadcrumbs. None will make it to the ducks at the rate we’re going.

I want to tell her I’ll go anywhere she wants me to go, even if that means visiting a man who once said he’d cut off my nuts if I ever stepped foot in his house again. I’ve shown up a few times since then, never brave enough to go inside, but I’d do it for her. I’d grow big enough balls to risk him taking them. Snip, snip.

“I told him he should come here, too, ‘cuz you like Breezeo, and he said maybe he would the next time.” My father lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Ha! I’d like to see him come here.”

This is the most dad thing a dad can say

“We need to have the stranger danger talk because she took to him right away.” “Like mother, like daughter,” he says.

“Grandpa, can I have this?” Maddie asks, bursting out onto the porch, holding a banana Popsicle. She licks it, not waiting for permission, a bite already taken off the top.

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.”

I’m trying not to laugh, I am, but Jesus Christ, it’s almost like she’s arguing with herself. Kennedy was always stubborn as hell, but I've never been any better. It’s why, when the two of us fought, things got ugly.

:'(

Another laugh. I could listen to that sound forever.

But for a time, we just… were. It’s the most comforting feeling in the world. When you lose it, though, it’s the most confusing. It’s like losing a piece of your soul.

Being around him is proving dangerous for my feelings. Dangerous to my sanity.

Slow, and deep, the way I know she always liked it, teasing to the point of agony. It’s torture.

Ten minutes, maybe an hour—I don’t know. Pleasure rushes through me, my breathing haggard, parts of me brutally hurting, but I keep on going. Fucking her, making love—I’m not sure what this is, but her soft cries fill the room as her nails rake down my back, so I know she’s all in.

I bite, and lick, and suck. I’m probably leaving marks, but the harder my mouth works, the more she squirms.

As she stands there, staring at you, seeing the light in your eyes and feeling so much love in her heart, she would’ve done anything you asked. Anything. She would’ve climbed any mountain and dug any hole. She would’ve lied, cheated, and stolen. That girl would’ve promised you forever. As long as you love her, for as long as you care, she’s yours.

I want to pick her up and shove her in my pocket, shield her from everything for as long as I’m alive, but I can’t do that, because the truth is, she’s not just mine.

Us. There is no ‘us’. There was an ‘us’ once upon a time, but now it’s just me and him and whatever this mess is I’ve gotten into by throwing myself at him the way I did.

“Hey, pretty girl.” She looks up at me. “You think I’m pretty?” “What? Of course.” I kneel next to her, grinning as I press a finger to the tip of her nose. “You look like your mom.” “You think Mommy’s pretty, too?” “I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Go blue guy!” The blue guy, in fact, loses—if there’s such a thing as losing in what they’re doing. The guy in all black takes a bow, celebrating, while Madison loudly boos, drawing their attention.

It’s simple. She feels so plain. You tell her she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. He knows what I want and he gives it to me, over and over, until I’m begging, pleading, and can’t take another moment. Only then does he pull back, only then does he change his pace—hitting hard, so hard that my breath catches, a few rough, deep strokes as he groans, coming.

I want to make some snide comment and storm away, throw a tantrum like a petulant child because I feel so stupid, but that’s not me. It’s never been me.

Eh it kind of is you sometimes tho

I instantly want to be anywhere else in the world, but it’s too late, because Maddie’s been promised some bacon.

Again, me

“This is an inn, Mr. Cunningham, not Chippendales. I won’t have you at my breakfast table looking like a gigolo.”

“And no hanky-panky,” Mrs. McKleski calls to us as we start upstairs. “What’s the hanky-panky?” Maddie asks, following the woman to the kitchen. “She means the hokey-pokey,” I yell down before Mrs. McKleski can answer, because there’s no telling how that woman would explain it. “Oh, I like the hokey-pokey!” Maddie looks at the woman with confusion. “Why don’t you wanna play it?” “Too messy,” Mrs. McKleski grumbles. “All that turning yourself around.”

I head to the front of the store in just enough time to see Bethany scurry out, looking quite the opposite of sick, but hey, what do I know? The little dance she does, though, as she meets her friends out in the parking lot, is a pretty good indicator that I’m being screwed over. Awesome.

FUCK THIS BITCH!!!!!!!

I pause and stretch, cringing, my entire body aching this morning. Even my bones seem to hurt. I’m much too young to feel so old, but real life, remember?