Ashes to Ashes

Many ghosts are motivated by a deep psychological issue, about which they tend to be single-minded and obsessive. Be warned that if a ghost makes him- or herself known to you and does not solicit your help, he or she likely means to do you harm.

Reeve doesn’t see it coming, even though I’m there, kneeling on one of the diving platforms. Even though I got the idea from his very own dream.

He takes off his towel. After a few arm circles and knee jumps to get warm, he hops into the water at the shallow end. He pulls a pair of swim goggles down over his eyes, sucks in a deep breath, and begins swimming a long straight lap, right toward me. I lean over the water and wait for him to come up and take a breath. His last. When he does, I’ll be the final face he sees. And then we’ll both be free.

To become visible a ghost must vibrate at the specific life frequency of the intended witness.

I close my eyes and use everything, every last drop of power, to set myself in sync with Reeve. A low buzz turns into the crystal-clear beat of his heart pumping him through the water in my empty shell. The in-and-out and in-and-out of his breath fills my atrophied lungs as he rotates his head from the surface to underwater. The bursts of blood coursing through his veins feel like thousands of electrical pulses waking up my numb extremities.

Reeve swims closer and closer. A few feet out from the wall, he sucks in a big last breath and takes the final stretch underwater. He starts rising back up to the surface, and I reveal myself like I read in Aunt Bette’s book. We lock eyes before he hits the air. His face contorts.

Good-bye, Reeve.

I leap into the water and wrap my arms and legs around his body. Reeve flails and thrashes, but I squeeze him like a vise and sink him down, down, down to the dark bottom of the pool.

He’s fighting me so hard, it doesn’t take long for him to run out of gas. His hum quiets, quiets, quiets.

It’s almost over. I’m so glad it’s almost over.

And then, a shock of white before things come in flashes.

His mother’s face.

Brothers throwing him up to the sky.

A hug from an old woman.

A dog snarling and snapping at his hand.

Running and sliding on wet cement.

His dad, drunk and swinging his fists.

This is Reeve’s life, flashing before his eyes. And because we’re in sync, I can see it along with him. Every bit of this mystery boy is unfolding for me like a movie of a billion different frames.

Baseball home run.

Hiding under a bed.

Walking into the Montessori lunchroom.

A flash of me, soaking wet on the ferry, bawling my eyes out.

Reeve running home, sobbing.

At the ferry the next day, looking for me.

Our teacher, breaking the news.

Reeve vomiting in the boys’ bathroom.

Reeve inconsolable, my pocketknife in his hands.

Opening the blade, staring at it.

It’s starting to hurt now. Feeling every emotion Reeve’s ever felt, all at once.

At the Jar Island lighthouse. Climbing his way up to the peak.

Screaming he’s sorry into the wind.

Staring over the edge.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my death affected Reeve that way. Enough to make him do something so drastic, as drastic as I did. He did care. His skin burns in my grip, crazy hot. I fight the urge to let him go.

A park ranger grabbing him, pulling him down.

The show slows along with Reeve’s heartbeat. He’s dying in my arms. Almost done, I tell myself, because it’s stinging me like fire to hold on. Keep going. It’s almost over. The last image, brighter than bright:

Lillia Cho.

I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it for another second. I drop him.

When I open my eyes, I’m back at my house. Lying on the floor. My cheeks are wet. I’m crying.

I couldn’t do it. After all this time, after all he’s done to me, I couldn’t do it. Through his eyes I saw everything. I felt everything. Pain. Joy. Despair. Regret. Everything. All the things I’ve forgotten how to feel.

Love.

I know now that I’ll never be able to kill Reeve. That’s why I haven’t done it already, when I’ve had so many chances. I’ve been holding back. I’m never going to be able to kill him.

But he still has to pay for what he did. Otherwise I’ll never be free. But if not me . . .

And then I remember.

Reeve was the one who tormented me into doing the unthinkable. Taking my own life. He’s got to be the one to do it. There’s no other way.