***
A few days later I heard back from Rebecca. She went to Perry’s and things hadn’t exactly gone as planned. I was torn between wanting as much information from her as possible and trying to protect my heart. In the end, my stupid, self-destructive tendencies demanded every single detail from her. I’d really lost it. That guy who wasn’t about to stalk her? Well I felt like I was mentally stalking her as I made Rebecca describe what she looked like. She sounded as beautiful as ever, darkness and light all wrapped up into one. My heart twisted itself into a well-worn knot.
“She looked tired though,” she told me over the phone while I got ready to go to the corner store. I was having Dean and Seb over for some drinks before we hit up the bars, something I hadn’t done in an extremely long time.
“What kind of tired?” I asked. Perry had fair skin that usually rebelled when she didn’t get enough sleep. Yeah, yeah, I’m a creeper who noticed those things. I didn’t say she still wasn’t gorgeous when she was tired. It made her look more vulnerable than ever, and that, combined with her delicious tits that were just ripe for squeezing were a fucking lethal combination.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I caught her coming back from a run, so maybe it was just that. Or perhaps it was the fact that she wanted to throw my arse to the curb. It was hard to tell.”
Regardless, I made her tell me everything all over again, going over every word she said. Perhaps, if Rebecca repeated it enough, it would be like talking to Perry herself.
It wasn’t, but in some sick way, it was close. Hearing this gave me a sense of closure that I didn’t have before, relief that she, as tired as she might have been, was okay. She was alive and out there in the world, living her life, working a new job. She’d moved on, and as much as that stung the shit out of me worse than any wasp could, I was somewhat happy for her.
Of course, being happy for her made me feel more miserable for me. Call me a selfish dickmonkey, but it’s hard to be happy for someone when you can’t share their happiness with them. I wanted to be there with her as she lived her life, watching for those rare smiles on her face.
I was grumbling about that to myself as I pulled my coat around me and braved the cold, crossing underneath the monorail tracks to the store. I tied Fat Rabbit outside and went inside, searching the aisle for the cheapest bottle of wine. I was unemployed now and wasn’t about to waste a drop of expensive shit on Dean and Seb, not when they’d probably be puking it up later anyway.
It was just a small convenience store, and while the douchester hipbag guy behind the counter—Paul I think his name was—dealt with a customer at the jugs of beer-to-go (who knew it would be so popular?), I waited at the register, watching a lady with interest.
I’d seen her a few times before…in fact, lately I think she’d been in the store every time I was there. She wore all black, with a furry velvet hat that looked vaguely Russian. I’d never seen her face; she would just walk from the counter, down the aisle to the end, like she was part zombie. You know the way really old people walk when they’re too stubborn for scooters or a cane? That kind of walk. Slow, deliberate, and shaking slightly. I’d never seen her look at anything on the shelves or buy anything. She just did that ultra-slow walk of hers.
“Ready to go?” Douchester Hipbag said to me. I straightened up off the counter and pushed the bottle of wine toward him.
“Sure am.”
“Still not smoking?” he asked as he rang it up.
“Still not,” I told him and turned my attention back to the woman. I nodded in her direction. “Hey, what’s the deal with the Walking Dead reject over there?”
He frowned and looked past me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I said, watching her do her death dance. “What’s her deal? I always see her here, just…acting like a zombie.”
Paul gave me a funny look and popped the wine into a paper bag. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Dex.”
I looked at the lady and back at him. “Uh, you can’t see that lady there?”
He shook his head. “I think quitting smoking might have done something to your brain.”
It wasn’t quitting smoking that did something to my brain. Oh fucknuts. There was no lady, was there?
I quickly handed him the five dollars and snatched my wine up off the counter. I eyed her form differently now, the jerky way her limbs moved, the fact that I always saw her in the same place, doing the same actions. She wasn’t a zombie, but she was in fact dead.
I got myself out of the store, feeling the heebie jeebies crawling up and down my skin, and Fat Rabbit and I practically ran across the road to my apartment. Even though the lady wasn’t a threat (not yet anyway), I was scared shitless. I wasn’t used to seeing them alone, and I suddenly needed Perry’s embrace and comfort more than anything in the world.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Dean and Seb to show up. Unfortunately, I’d drunk the bottle of wine already. They never even had a chance.
“You’re getting a nice head start, aren’t you?” Dean said as he placed a six-pack of beer in the fridge. I guess he figured he’d need to bring his own.
“Well, I just saw a ghost, so I’m feeling a bit…uh, on edge.”
Seb and Dean exchanged a look. Dean frowned, his eyes cautious underneath his glasses. Seb just laughed and tucked his long hair behind his ears.
“Awesome,” he said, cracking open a beer. “You saw a ghost, that’s rad.”
Seb was always kind of a stoner. Swap kind of for totally. I had a feeling he was a cast member on That ‘70s Show at one point but he got fired or something and now just lived his life stuck in that world. I mean, it’s an off the wall theory, but I see ghosts, so what the fuck do I know?
“Yeah, Seb. A ghost. And it’s not awesome. It’s scary as shit.”
“Right on.”
I shook my head and wished I had more wine. “Beer me,” I said, holding out my hand. Dean sighed and tore a beer off the rings, handing it to me.
They pulled up the barstools and we tried to talk about a chick, Clarissa, that Seb was attempting to bang, but the conversation kept coming back to ghosts. As if ghosts were more interesting than sex. Nothing was more interesting than sex.
“So, like, I totally thought Perry was like ghost whisperer,” Seb said, rocking back and forth on the stool, “and you were just the camera guy. I didn’t know you saw ghosts too, dude.”
I twisted the metal ring around and round until it snapped off the can.
“Normally I don’t. I’m…” I shot them both a quick glance. They were watching me intently. “I’m off my medication. I was put away in a mental institute back in college because I saw ghosts. They thought I was crazy. They put me on meds—robbing me of my real life while they were at it—and I stopped seeing them. I haven’t taken any pills since December.”
Both of them grew silent. Seb looked confused and Dean’s face hadn’t changed. He still watched me carefully, judging my sanity, or if perhaps I was a big fat liar. I didn’t blame him. I hoped he’d still be my running buddy, but if he wanted to hang out with saner people, I definitely wasn’t the right fit for him.
“But you’re not crazy,” Seb offered slowly, as if reading my mind. “Just because you see ghosts doesn’t mean you’re crazy.”
I shot him a smile. “Doesn’t it? That’s never what the doctors said.”
He took a long yet thoughtful sip of his beer. “I think doctors don’t know shit. I bet if you see ghosts, it’s not because you’re mental. You’re just different, Dex. And that’s okay.”
This was getting borderline heartwarming. Must put a stop to it.
“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there,” I said, raising my beer in the air. “Forget ghosts, let’s say thanks for sex and get Seb here laid tonight.”
We rammed our beer cans together, foam spilling over the sides.
“Just Seb?” Dean asked, wiping beer off his can.
“I thought you and your new lady friend were exclusive,” I told him.
“Naw, we are. I meant you. You’re not getting any tail?”
I snorted at his choice of words. “Tail. No, I’m not.”
Seb slammed his drink down and wiped his mouth. “Why not? Dude, you’re single. Maybe Clarissa has a hot sister or something. Or maybe one of the bartenders she works with will dig you.”
“I really hope you’re talking about female bartenders, Sea Bass,” I warned him. “I know I’ve been spending a lot of time sweating with Dean here, but…”
“So that’s it?” Dean asked. “You’re just going to spend your life pining after her?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Dean, if I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who said I should build a temple for her or something.”
“That was then. I thought maybe you’d have gone after her. Isn’t this why you’re…what was it again…becoming a better man?”
It was. But just because I wasn’t going to her now, didn’t mean it was off the table.
“When was the last time you got laid?” Seb asked.
I didn’t have to think. I’d been jerking off to it ever since. “With Perry. After the Christmas party.”
His jaw dropped. “Oh man, you so need to get some action tonight. Hell, you can have Clarissa if you want.”
“Oh, like you’re doing me a favor by passing up the chick you haven’t even fucked yet.”
“Fine. Offer is off the table now. Your loss.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help getting laid. I never have.” I didn’t mean to brag but…okay, yes, I totally meant to brag. I pulled back the sleeve of my t-shirt. “And look at these guns.” I eyed Dean. “Don’t you dare show off yours, cuz that’s not fair. But seriously, with these guns and my face and my dick, women are completely powerless.”
Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “Maybe not all women.”
“Perry hasn’t been invited to the brand new gun show yet,” I told him, as if there was a chance in hell that she’d see me now. “When she does, all will be forgiven.”
“I see,” Dean mused. “So, before that happens, whenever that happens, are you going to get busy with some fine ladies tonight or keep sitting here talking about your guns?”
I pushed back my stool and stood up. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“As your running coach, it’s my job to challenge you.”
“Hey now, we’re running partners.”
“You guys sound really gay,” Seb spoke up.
We both glared at him in unison. He threw up his hands. “What, I’m not judging. I’d be happy if you were gay—I’d get more action that way.”
I rolled my eyes and pointed my beer at Dean. “You want me to get some tonight? Challenge accepted.”
He grinned in response before chugging the rest of his beer.
Seb looked between us with a dumb smile on his face. “So are you getting some men or women tonight, Dex?”
This was going to be a long night.