Page 5 of The Ghost of You

I wave and then turn back to the server station, ensuring the glass rack is secure.

The rest of my night flies by. I glance over to Noah and his brothers a few times and they all seem to be surviving the alcohol haze.

By the time I am pulling into my driveway, I am grateful I have Sundays off. My feet hurt and I feel like I am covered in a film of sweat, beer, and tequila.

I unlock the front door of my duplex and throw my keys and purse on the entryway table. I pull my tips out of my purse and walk into the small sunroom at the back of my house. I’ve turned it into an office and music room. It’s where I find the most solace during the day. The warmth of the sun on my skin, the greenery of the plants centering me, and the soft sounds of whatever my inspiration is for the day filtering through the speakers of my vinyl record collection.

I pile up the dirty, crumpled bills in each denomination before counting. I made four hundred and sixty-three dollars. Not too bad. I open my safe under my desk and place half the money in a bag designated rent. Half of what’s left goes into a bag marked bills and the other half gets split between my personal spending funds and a bag marked Nashville.

I walk to my bathroom and strip out of the clothes I have on, throwing them directly into the hamper. I take my hair down and brush out the reddish-orange waves. I look into the mirror and take a deep breath; nights are always hard for me. I clasp my fingers around the two rings hanging from my neck and fight the urge to cry. It’s been almost seven years, but the pain feels like yesterday.

I turn on the shower and climb in before the water is even warm. The cold blast shakes my thoughts and I think about music and songs, the only thing I have found to help me cope. A sad melody filters through my head. Once I am out of the shower, I head back to my music room wrapped in a towel. I sit on a chair and work on the melody until I fall asleep.

3

Noah

It’s beena week since my brother’s birthday but because of my work schedule, we haven’t been able to celebrate as a family. At least that is what my mother says.

That’s how I find myself driving out into the woods, deep into the Blue Ridge Mountains with Carson, Mason, and Asher in tow. They drew straws over who was getting the front seat. And not because I forced them to be in the police cruiser, which I have done in the past, but because I brought Brutus and he is a licker. Mason and Asher got stuck in the back seat and I think Mason is two seconds from walking the rest of the way to our parents’ house.

“I think you need to teach your dog some manners.”

I roll my eyes as I glance in the rearview mirror to see Brutus half sitting on Mason, his tongue hanging to the side. “Maybe if you roll the window up, he wouldn’t be bothering you.”

“Dude, your car is like eighty-five degrees, I need the breeze,” Mason says.

Asher snorts. “Or maybe if you laid off the booze before you got in the car you wouldn’t be so hot.”

I hear a rustling then, “Fuck you, dick.”

I look back in the mirror and see Asher rubbing his arm, Mason sitting smugly next to him.

Carson sets his phone in his lap, the one he has been on the entire time, somehow ignoring the bickering going on in the back seat. He turns around and faces our brothers. “You would think the two of you are twelve. Shut up and act like adults.”

I smirk at Carson as he turns back around and picks his phone up. He has a point. The ride out to Mom and Dad’s is about forty minutes and it feels like we have been in this car for hours.

I glance back in the rearview and see Mason taking a sip from a flask. “You realize I am a cop and you are drinking in a moving vehicle.”

“Mom forced me to come or else I wouldn’t be here.”

Mason hates coming home. I don’t blame him. Dad treats him like shit for being a musician and not choosing a real career like myself or Carson who is a lawyer or Hunter who is a doctor. Even Asher, the little punk that he is, is in school for pre-law. Our other brother, Everett, my dad has written off ever since he moved away.

“It is Asher’s birthday dinner.”

“And last week I was there for the fun time. I’m sick of being treated by my own family like the black sheep. I’m treated more like a child than Asher is.”

“It’s because you don’t have my good looks,” Asher jokes, earning him another punch from Mason.

“Your family loves you, Mason. Even Dad. He just sucks at showing it. But he loves having you home. At least he wants you there. Unlike Everett.”

We all go silent at that. We all miss our brother, but we don’t talk about it. I have a regular call with him once a month. He’s out in Montana now, herding cattle or something. He sounds happy, but he is the best out of all of us at faking it.

We stay silent the rest of the ride and pull into our parents’ house about fifteen minutes later. Asher jumps out of the car first, Brutus fast on his heels. Carson puts his phone in his pocket and heads in next. I get out of the car and wait for Mason. It takes him a minute to get out of the car but eventually he does.

He takes a swig from his flask and I grab it from him and take one too. I clasp a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, Mase. Today is about Asher, not you. And if Dad brings anything up, I’ll change the subject.”

Mason looks me in the eyes, his same blue ones meet mine. “Thanks, Noah. I’m so close on closing that deal. But if I talk about it, I’m afraid it will fall through. I don’t want Dad to know because if it doesn’t work out, it will be just another thing he will call me out on.”

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