Ghosted by Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall

Author:Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781593762957
Publisher: Soft Skull Press
Published: 2010-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

41. Silence is golden.

42. I usually want more salt.

47

They were difficult days. The only thing he liked about them was Willy—being with her in his bed, talking and making love. But that had its difficulties, too. She couldn’t feel anything, and then suddenly she felt too much. It was tricky getting her drugs; Chaz disapproved of heroin and was edgy since the raid. Mason dodged conversation with him and avoided certain things with Willy. He told her Soon had shelved the performance piece for a speaking tour in Iceland, and she didn’t push it. She was the same as Chaz that way, kept curiosity on a leash like a dog.

When Willy slept, Mason didn’t. He hadn’t slept for days. He went to Ho-vee’s and drank milkshakes laced with vodka, his heart rate spiking every time a fat girl came through the door.

He went to the library and searched for “Circe and the Stallion.” Finally he found it, in The Glimpse of a Bruise—a collection of poetry by Jonathan Follow.

He started phoning various Follows.

He drove back to the Old Jackson Bridge, and looked into the squalls.

And once, when the fog came in, he went down to the lakeshore—a random spot on the docks that was usually full of people. He imagined Warren hurling himself in. He stood there for a while, listening to the water as it slipped against the moss-covered moorings a dozen feet below, trying to make it seem deadly. All he could see was fog—or rather, the path of moonlight through it—all the particles of air and water together with the shimmering light of a heaven moon. And he felt like he couldn’t breathe, because of the overwhelming ratio of water to air and all the unnameable beauty … Then suddenly the fog began to part, just slightly—a thin slice that made the moonlit air dance in swirls, reaching from the surface of the invisible lake straight up like an inverse funnel.

This tall swirl moved towards him, cutting wider through the fog with the moonlight dancing over it. And then, from the lake, he heard a voice …

“Quack,” it said.

And he knew he needed to sleep.

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