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Authors: T. Greenwood
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something to do with his hands.
“Ben, what do you think happens when people die?”
Ben took a deep breath. After Dusty died and they went home from the hospital without her, he’d curled up in his bed alone. He’d waited for someone to come and explain to him what would happen next. What to expect. Not for him, for them, but for her. But neither his mother nor father offered anything. There was no heaven in his house, no God.
Ben shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Shadi wiped away her tears. “My people believe that you shouldn’t cry when someone dies. That too much emotion can interrupt their journey to the underworld. That the dead person’s spirit might attach itself to you, or to a place, or to an object if the journey is interrupted. Do you think that’s possible?”
This time, he nodded. Without heaven, without angels,
Dusty became a ghost. She lived in every particle of dust, in every shadow. She lived in all the empty places; maybe she still did.
“Well,” she said, standing up from the bed. “At least it shouldn’t take long to clear this shit out.”
Shadi put everything into the laundry basket (the books, the clothes, the TV, a small amplifier, and a carton of cigarettes), which Ben carried, and she rode her bike next to him to the truck, the guitar slung over her back. “Thanks for helping me out,” she said.
“No problem,” he said, shrugging.
She took the pears out of the bike basket and threw her bike and Ricky’s stuff into the bed of the truck. Ben drove up Humphreys so they wouldn’t have to pass the doctor’s office on San Francisco and then pulled out onto Fort Valley Road.
When they drove into her spot at the RV park, she got out of the truck and he got out to help her. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said, lowering the bike to the ground and grabbing the rest of the stuff. “Listen, thanks for helping me out and I’m sorry about that earlier. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. It’s not usually my way.”
He waited for her to invite him in. It was early; Sara wouldn’t be home from work for another couple of hours, and he didn’t have to work that night. He wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to stay.
“Okay, I’ll see you,” she said.
His heart sank a little. He got in the truck, and she started to chain her bike to the trailer. He leaned over to the passenger side and rolled the window down.
“Hey, I’m going to see if I can find anything out about the other places Ricky might have gone that night. I’ve got friends who tend bar at some of the other places he might have been hanging out. Somebody had to have seen something.”
She stood up and smiled. She came over to the window and handed him a pear. “Thanks,” she said, and then she unlocked the trailer door and disappeared inside.
He sat in the driveway for a minute. He couldn’t believe she and Ricky had lasted as long as they had, sharing such a tiny space. He wondered what it looked like inside. He wondered what she was doing in there. And then he shook his head, no, this was crazy, and he put the key in the ignition and backed out. On the way home, he ate the pear, just a couple of bites. It wasn’t ripe yet, though, too hard and too green, almost bitter.
“B en?” Sara’s voice came from the kitchen as Ben walked the door.
He took off his coat and poked his head around the corner. She was standing at the counter, making lasagna, layering noodles and sauce and cheese. Ben’s favorite. She’d changed out of her scrubs and was wearing a soft pair of Levi’s and one of his sweaters. Barefoot, her hair loose around her shoulders.
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Her chin trembled. “I’m sorry. I’m just a mess. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch the other day. God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ben. I think everything with that kid, it just finally got to me. I see broken bones and bloody faces all day long, but this is different. At work
“Ben, what do you think happens when people die?”
Ben took a deep breath. After Dusty died and they went home from the hospital without her, he’d curled up in his bed alone. He’d waited for someone to come and explain to him what would happen next. What to expect. Not for him, for them, but for her. But neither his mother nor father offered anything. There was no heaven in his house, no God.
Ben shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Shadi wiped away her tears. “My people believe that you shouldn’t cry when someone dies. That too much emotion can interrupt their journey to the underworld. That the dead person’s spirit might attach itself to you, or to a place, or to an object if the journey is interrupted. Do you think that’s possible?”
This time, he nodded. Without heaven, without angels,
Dusty became a ghost. She lived in every particle of dust, in every shadow. She lived in all the empty places; maybe she still did.
“Well,” she said, standing up from the bed. “At least it shouldn’t take long to clear this shit out.”
Shadi put everything into the laundry basket (the books, the clothes, the TV, a small amplifier, and a carton of cigarettes), which Ben carried, and she rode her bike next to him to the truck, the guitar slung over her back. “Thanks for helping me out,” she said.
“No problem,” he said, shrugging.
She took the pears out of the bike basket and threw her bike and Ricky’s stuff into the bed of the truck. Ben drove up Humphreys so they wouldn’t have to pass the doctor’s office on San Francisco and then pulled out onto Fort Valley Road.
When they drove into her spot at the RV park, she got out of the truck and he got out to help her. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” she said, lowering the bike to the ground and grabbing the rest of the stuff. “Listen, thanks for helping me out and I’m sorry about that earlier. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. It’s not usually my way.”
He waited for her to invite him in. It was early; Sara wouldn’t be home from work for another couple of hours, and he didn’t have to work that night. He wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to stay.
“Okay, I’ll see you,” she said.
His heart sank a little. He got in the truck, and she started to chain her bike to the trailer. He leaned over to the passenger side and rolled the window down.
“Hey, I’m going to see if I can find anything out about the other places Ricky might have gone that night. I’ve got friends who tend bar at some of the other places he might have been hanging out. Somebody had to have seen something.”
She stood up and smiled. She came over to the window and handed him a pear. “Thanks,” she said, and then she unlocked the trailer door and disappeared inside.
He sat in the driveway for a minute. He couldn’t believe she and Ricky had lasted as long as they had, sharing such a tiny space. He wondered what it looked like inside. He wondered what she was doing in there. And then he shook his head, no, this was crazy, and he put the key in the ignition and backed out. On the way home, he ate the pear, just a couple of bites. It wasn’t ripe yet, though, too hard and too green, almost bitter.
“B en?” Sara’s voice came from the kitchen as Ben walked the door.
He took off his coat and poked his head around the corner. She was standing at the counter, making lasagna, layering noodles and sauce and cheese. Ben’s favorite. She’d changed out of her scrubs and was wearing a soft pair of Levi’s and one of his sweaters. Barefoot, her hair loose around her shoulders.
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Her chin trembled. “I’m sorry. I’m just a mess. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch the other day. God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ben. I think everything with that kid, it just finally got to me. I see broken bones and bloody faces all day long, but this is different. At work
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