Keep the Ghost by Scott Kelly

Author:Scott Kelly [Kelly, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: teen-fiction, mystery, literary fiction
Published: 2015-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

32. Reunited

Time spent with a gun pointed at my head is not like normal time. It passes in increments that shouldn’t be defined as “seconds,” because that implies each interval can be measured separately from the rest. This is a tumbling stream of cubed moments, a shambling mess of static and broken thoughts. The mass of these will sit in my memory like hot coals, untouchable and immovable, scarred into my experience.

Cole and I stand, sweating, rubbing the wounds we’ve inflicted on each other. Occasionally, between heaving breaths, he shakes the gun and jabs it in my direction, like he’s going to shoot. The panic this generates in my mind is so consuming, I have to look down and check my clothes to make sure I’m not shot.

At some point, we hear a car pull into the driveway. Cole keeps the gun pointed in my general direction as he walks to the living room window, pulls back the curtain and stares outside. I consider running, but the pain in my skull and leg dissuade me.

Can’t see from here, but I hear the faint thud of a car door slamming, then the jingle of keys as someone approaches the door. Cole walks over and opens it before the keys are turned.

He steps back, and Morgan enters the house—silent, face ashen, black purse tucked under one arm. Gleaming black shoes emerge from granite slacks and tap the ground with authority.

Cole lets the gun fall to his side, seemingly staggered. His eyes are wide, mouth open, skin sickly pale behind splotch-pink blemishes.

“I mean, I knew,” Cole stammers. “I was pretty goddamn sure you were alive, you know. But seeing you…I spent years thinking you’re dead, then the past year convinced I’m crazy for thinking you might be alive.” He raises spread fingers to his head, touches his forehead and pushes the hand outward.

“You’re right here. That’s you, that’s my Lauren. The woman who ruined my life!” He shouts this as he holds the gun sideways and levels it at her chest. He’s a few feet away, pistol halving the distance between them.

Morgan only stares, unflinching. “Shoot me and lose your son forever,” she says.

Cole bends over as though struck again, but keeps the gun pointed at Morgan. “It’s a boy?” he croaks.

“A healthy three year old,” Morgan answers. She hooks the purse around her arm, holds it near her body. “He’s somewhere safe, leading a pampered life.”

“We tried for years to get you pregnant, and you stole him! All you ever want is to hurt me,” Cole says, voice ragged.

Morgan doesn’t respond to this.

I sense motion in my peripheral vision; the moment before I turn to glance, Morgan’s eyes flit to mine. She says nothing, but I remain still. Something passes by the glass panes in the back door, momentarily blocking the sun.

“What’s his name?” Cole calls, straightening himself out again.

She’s still silent. Her face is porcelain, but there’s a sheen to her eyes. A wet light.

“Tell me his name!” Cole shouts.

The back door opens, silently, slowly.

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