He pats my leg. “But not for people like us.”
In all the memories I can access, I can’t remember a time when he has said we were alike.
“I blame myself for the fight we had when you low-pulled. Hell, I blame myself for your stunt. I know my wild child. I denied you a shot to prove yourself, so you set out to do that.” His nostrils flare. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not. I realized something the day you kooked out on acid. I haven’t been very good at, well . . . I think you were looking for my attention. Acting out.”
I heard what you said! You never wanted a girl. You said you weren’t made to father anything but boys!
This recollection hits me full force. How did the ghost know before I did that my father didn’t want me? It’s like the dreams that have plagued me, only with different players. The shrill voice in my head rails at him, but I feel nothing but confusion: scattered memories blow in the wind, and I don’t know which are real. There’s no actual emotion behind the specter’s very emotional words ringing in my ears. My father and I are alike in this way. I’m numb too.
He never wanted me.
“You never wanted me.”
His mouth hangs open like he’s wishing an argument would leap from his tongue and refute what I’ve said, but nothing comes out.
Instead of staring at him, waiting for his reply, I find myself looking out of the glass bubble. It appears as though the earth is reaching up to us, but we’re descending. I close my eyes as we drop, attempting to block out the world and to shut out the girl whose apparition sits in the enclosed space with her head on her knees. She looks so sad. There’s a part of me that wishes he hadn’t shown up right when he did. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I want her to finish her sentence. I want to know what it is that she wants.
She haunts me, but I have to know what’s haunting her.
If I knew that, could I put her to rest?
Twenty
THE B-17 ROLLS to a stop. When the engines cut, it’s like I’ve never heard silence this loud before. I have, though. I’ve been to a place where there are no sounds and no pictures but the memories in my head. I clung to them like a life raft. The night of the LSD, I was in a place so silent, it hurt.
My father helps me unfasten the clip on my belt, and I follow him out to the door. The stairs are propped against the side of the plane. Dom waits for me.
“We a go?” my dad asks him, to which Dom gives a thumbs-up. Probably another load of jumpers. I can’t decipher this man-speak, but I’m glad to see that my father isn’t blistering mad at Dom anymore. The drop zone is Dom’s life too. He and his brother have practically lived here since their mom died. Their dad, well, he didn’t want his kids either. It’d kill Dom to lose this family.
For the second time, I get a rush of loss like a hot wind that’s blown through me. This was our life, together. Then the air inside me stills.
My dad walks away but looks back at us as he does.
“How’ve you been?” Dom asks.
I bite my lip, force a smile. “Been better.”
“That could be interpreted two ways.”
“Probably should be.”
Dom reaches up, smooths his hand over my newly cropped hair. Bumps of pleasure flare on my skin. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re even more badass without your hair. Gives you a rougher edge.”
“I feel softer on the inside. I mean, not because of the hair, but because?—”
His head cocks to the side. “I knew what you meant, babe.”
I look down at my feet. He doesn’t let me linger in awkwardness. His finger tilts my chin up. His stare is a cocoon. “You’ve been through a lot. An experience like you had, nearly dying, it can change people, change their whole outlook on life.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. I am changed. I see life differently now: how fragile and thin this world is. People don’t realize.” I reach my hand out to the air and touch nothing but the open doorway between this life and the next. “It’s right there. We can walk right through it. I’m scared to walk through it again, so I’m being extra careful. But it’s like nobody wants me to change. They don’t want this careful Ryan. They want me the way I was. I see how reckless I was before. How careless. I would think everyone would be happy I’ve changed from . . . that. But none of you are.”
Dom’s hand slides down my arm, and he gives my fingers a squeeze. “I’m not gonna lie and tell you that you made people feel comfortable. You’ve scared everyone you know at least once. Hell, you made my nuts shrivel up in fear with that low-pull jump.” He smiles and kisses my fingers. His voice softens again. “Thing is, you reminded everyone that the walls of safety they put around themselves are complete bullshit. By living out loud and full-on, you’re a reminder that they aren’t fully living, that they are too afraid. Baby, you’re a mirror for their fears.”