On the Fringe (10 page)

I didn’t get it. How did I go my entire life without even noticing her—until it was too late? I never believed in fate, or true love, or anything like that, but
did
wonder if there had been signs along the way—some sort of early indication she meant more to me than I’d realized.

Maybe it was time to hit the rewind button in my head, time for a dive into the ol’ Memory Trace, something I’d recently discovered. It was kind of like flipping through an electronic photo album—except instead of watching the blur of images flash by until I found what I was looking for,
I
was the one zooming through a three-dimensional tunnel of my own life, sometimes for hours or days at a time, just exploring my mind like a deep-sea explorer searching for treasure. It was easy to get lost in there if you didn’t pay attention, though. Just last week I got stuck for three days in a body surfing memory. I couldn’t help it. It was so relaxing.

There had to be something inside there, some long-lost Claire memories hidden in the back of my mind that might explain this ridiculous, post-mortal crush I couldn’t seem to get under control.

I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the tunnel, wondering how far back I could go, wondering if I’d even find anything worth visiting. Pretty soon, my life was surrounding me, and I started to look for glimpses of Claire, wondering where she might be hiding…

Backward…
holding Claire behind the carousel
… Backward…
the sound of a gunshot…
Back…
playing basketball in the driveway with Matthew…
Faster…
waterskiing in Tahoe…Christmas day with Grandma…
Faster…
swimming in the lake… poison ivy… Boy Scouts… skateboarding…
faster…
Disneyla… camp… pai… a… g… … … …
Slower…
… tr… bike… hospit…
Slower…
rainstor… fog…moving day…

Slow.

Stop.

The hot sun broils me as I stand out in the driveway, staring down the street at the moving van. I’m pretty sure the old guy with the big nose who used to live there died in his sleep, and now a new family is moving in. The driveway is filled with a gazillion boxes, and just when I turn to go back in the house, I hear voices and footsteps coming toward me. Addie comes out of the garage with another girl who also looks like she’s three or four years old, and they are already holding hands like they’ve been best friends their whole lives. Figures. Girls are way too lovey-dovey. Gross. The first thing I notice about the new girl is her glasses. The second thing, her hair, since I can’t decide whether it’s blonde or brown or red…

Too far.

Go.

Fast-forward…
broken leg at school
…
st
…
bre
…
grounded…a parade…
Stop.

Colors exploding in the sky. Fourth of July. Sparklers everywhere. Claire and Addie are chasing Matthew and me down the hill to the lake. Their laughter catches up to us, and we stop and turn to face the white sparks shooting out from their hands.

Skip ahead.

Side by side we float on our backs beneath the stars, my arms stretching outwards while I kick my legs through the cool water.
I feel like I can stay out there all night in the lake just by myself, although Claire isn’t bad company, either. Every time I’m around her, things always feel calmer, which is such a nice break from Addie.

Sailing by her, I reach out for the canoe and untie it, then lunge into it while Addie and Matthew skip rocks from the dock. I laugh as Claire tries to pull herself up inside the canoe, without any luck, of course. She gives me a dirty look and pretends like she knew what she was doing. Finally she succeeds and flops beside me. As she stares up at the sky, I secretly watch her familiar silhouette until she jabs me in the side. In return, I pop her on the forehead and dive back into the water, leaving her alone to bring the canoe in all by herself. Serves her right…

Go.

Fast-forward…
ice
…
ho
…
Washingt
…
grape
jello
…
haircut… scared of
… Skip.

Stop.

Claire thinks she’s so funny for pushing me into the lake with all my clothes on. I can’t get her back right now because she’s already wet, but I’ll make her pay. She definitely has something coming to her, that’s for sure.

Pause. This was funny—I could feel it approaching before the images were even in front of me. I laughed.

I sneak in when everyone is sound asleep. The house is dark and quiet. The frog is slippery, so I drop it twice, but he’s too slow, and I catch him before he disappears under the table. Claire is snoring when I tiptoe up next to her. She looks funny sleeping, and I want to laugh, but keep to the plan: drop the frog on top of her head and get out of there. I hear the scream when I reach the kitchen, and I bolt for the door. Man, I wish I could see the look on her face right now. Matthew will have to describe it to me later.

Stop.

Skip Forward…
Claire pitches me the whiffle ball and tags me smack in the eye… I throw up in the bushes on the way home from school and Matthew and Addie run away from me, but Claire stays behind and holds my backpack for me… we’re running through the sprinklers… going to the movies… mountain biking… carpool… football games… pizza night…

Stop.

Unwind.

Breathe.

I couldn’t believe how many Claire memories I had forgotten over the years. I never realized how much she was such a part of my life. Sure, at the time, most of the details seemed as routine as brushing my teeth or tying my shoes. Who remembers stuff like that? But now I knew what made Claire so much more interesting than most of the girls I’d liked or dated—which was probably why I still couldn’t get her out of my mind. It had something to do with all those crazy, funny things that made her unique, like the sound of her low-pitched laugh, or the way her neck got splotchy-red when she was embarrassed, how she stuck with glasses most of the time despite advances in modern technology. Or the way she screamed whenever someone snuck up behind her (it could even be a babbling baby and she’d still freak out), and all the other strange, funny, dorky, unique things that made her Claire….

It felt like she had snuck in the back door and crawled right up inside my head without me ever knowing. There were probably a hundred more memories, but I was already feeling the weight of the Memory Trace. It was exhausting searching through my mind like that, like reliving hundreds of hours of thoughts and feelings all at once in a short amount of time. It even made me feel kind of sleepy.

And it was time to wake up and go back home.

To Hidden Lake.

To Claire.

Claire

The drive home was mostly silent. Obviously, there would be no explaining to Drew why I had wandered off alone in the dark. What would I tell him, anyway? That I was playing hide-and-seek with my dead crush? Rather than make up some far-fetched story, I kept my mouth shut as he drove, the stereo blasting through the strain. I just hoped he wasn’t the gossipy type.

When Drew dropped me off, I mumbled a sort-of apology, unable to look him in the eyes. I didn’t know exactly how to say sorry, so I gushingly thanked him instead, and then he left me alone beneath a cascade of moonlight.

The porch light flickered on much too quickly as the door creaked open to Mom’s cheerful face. She probably had insanely high hopes that Drew would solve all of my problems. I was sorry to disappoint her, but still offered a weak smile, pretending. She really had no idea how far from despondency I truly was.
If she only knew
. Then again, I was pretty sure she would send me off to the shrink she’d been threatening for the last three months if I told her how my evening really went.

“How was it, hon?”

“Fine.” I found it nearly impossible trying to play casual while bursting inside.

“Did you have fun?”

I sunk to the empty bench and sighed in frustration, wishing I could tell her the truth, but knew that was out of the question. How could I tell
anyone
I wanted to be with someone who was dead but occasionally came back to life? Chills trickled down my arms and legs when I replayed in my mind the moment Daniel swung me around and said my name. I
loved
the sound of his voice.

“Not much to talk about?” Mom asked, putting her arm around me.

“Not really. It was fine,” I said, though I was beginning to sense some sort of premeditated lecture.

“Did you like him?” she asked too eagerly. “Was he nice?”

“Sure, Mom. He was nice. Not my type, though.”

“Claire, you’ve got to try–”

There. She’d said it—the one thing I was sick of hearing everyone tell me—that I needed to “try harder,” that my loneliness was all my fault, and if I would just give more guys a chance, I might actually end up liking one. I was so done with that guilt trip.

“Mom,” I stopped her, sitting up straight.

She quit mid-sentence, but hesitantly placed her hand on my leg, as if her gesture would make up for what I knew she was thinking about me.

“Drew wasn’t my type. It had nothing to do with anything. I’m not depressed. I’m not on the verge of suicide or anything.
Please
don’t lecture me about it again.”

“I’m sorry, Claire.” Mom stood, apparently annoyed at me as she tucked her rusty brown curls behind her ear and looked toward the lake. I turned away from her, hoping she’d let it drop. “Well, at least you went. That’s better than nothing,” she said, then went back inside and left me alone on the bench with the quiet.

I dozed off twice because I was too lazy to get up, but finally managed to drag myself inside to bed. An antique clock on top of the tall chest of drawers ticked at me, along with a too-loud chorus of crickets coming in through the open window. I could feel myself drifting, but also kept thinking of Daniel. I wondered where he had gone. Was there some special place where he bided the time? I doubted he slept or ate, or did anything temporal like that…but then again, maybe old habits persisted there, too. Maybe he traveled the world, gliding in and out of all the impossible and forbidden places he always wanted to go like the Middle East or Bangkok. Did he somehow know more now? Was he sad about dying? Is that why he’d returned, or was some great mission preventing his departure?

My mind eventually drifted away into the mysterious place that captures all of us every night, holding us prisoner until the great sleep ransom has been paid. Tonight, I welcomed imprisonment without resistance, though just before defeat, a single question echoed through my mind like the persistent, ticking clock.

When will I see Daniel again?

Daniel

She was asleep now, though I didn’t watch her through the window or anything. That would probably freak her out. Instead, I hung out on her front porch and stared out at the lake, watching for patterns made by the moonlight. Sometimes I wished to be able to fall asleep again and wake up the next morning, refreshed—eight hours vanished, just like that. Instead, I had to patiently wait the night out minute-by-minute, second-by-second.

The wind was blowing now, though I couldn’t feel it myself—not even the sense of something pushing on me, or moving a strand of hair. But I still remembered the way it felt on my face. Trying to imagine again, I closed my eyes at the sound of fluted chimes hanging from the eaves of the house next door. They stopped and started over and over again through the night as the breeze hung on.

These were things I noticed in the absence of living. I couldn’t help it.
Details
. Maybe if I’d paid more attention when I was alive, Claire would’ve come under my radar sooner than a couple of weeks before I died.

Chills started climbing up and down my arms and legs like little biting spiders, burning into me so that it almost hurt. I drifted across the grass, then up the street and back again, trying to find another ghost. “I know you’re here,” I called out while hovering over the porch railing, swinging my legs. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

But there was only silence.

I hadn’t heard from that other ghost since that confrontation in the fog weeks ago. I’d even forgotten about him until now. Hopefully, these goose bumps didn’t mean I was in for a repeat visit.

“Why don’t you grow up and show yourself, already,” I said to the mysterious intruder while tapping my fingers along the peeling rail, trying to figure out my next move.

Claire.
She
was my next move.

I shifted into her room to make sure she was okay. But there was no need for alarm. She was fine, all curled up in her covers, okay for now, even though the chills kept climbing up my limbs. To be safe, I spent the rest of the night skimming every inch of the dark house, rotating from one room to the next.

Just before the first speck of sunlight popped up over the horizon, I returned to check on Claire one more time, hovering impatiently in her doorway while brainstorming ways to get rid of an unwanted ghost. What was left of the moonlight drew a soft outline of her elongated shape, making her look so peaceful there as she probably dreamt about normal, safe things not involving ghosts and dead boyfriends. I inhaled unnecessarily, realizing I wanted to hold her and hear her say my name again.

She sighed and turned to her other side while mumbling something I couldn’t understand. Then she let out a gigantic snore. I burst out laughing, though I felt guilty for watching her sleep. I could only imagine how red she’d turn if she knew I was there, so I drifted back to my spot on the porch to be hypnotized by the wind chimes all over again.

While gazing out across the lake, I saw someone—a woman, this time. She was hovering above the surface of the water, her dark hair flying all over the place, watching me. She looked slightly familiar, but I couldn’t remember why. Tonight my mind was being uncooperative.