Page 38 of Challenge Me

“I’ll drive,” I said.

Ghost didn’t argue. That alone unsettled me more than any mechanical noise could have. He silently obeyed, vanishing from behind the wheel and reforming in the passenger seat as I climbed inside.

“Did you talk to him?” He asked.

My knuckles tightened against the leather.

I had delivered death notices before; In my previous line of work, I was usually responsible for the death, and occasionally for the notice as well. I would have thought I’d have a better handle on the job, but none of that had prepared me for this.

“Not exactly,” I muttered, turning the key in the ignition.

The engine struggled to turn over. I grasped the steering wheel, trying to figure out the best way to break the news.

Ghost was anxious. I could feel it. The car sat lower to the ground; he was quieter, and his gear shift was reluctant to move.

“Let’s go for a ride,” I declared as the motor finally started, my foot easing off the clutch. This wasn’t the time to play the passenger princess. Right now, Ghost needed me, and I needed time to figure out the best way to deliver the worst possible news. So we drove. I wasn’t sure where I was taking him. Away from any painful memories, I guess.

The whole drive, I felt his gaze on me. Watching, waiting.

I finally dared to meet his eyes when we pulled into the empty car park of an abandoned truck stop. A recently built highway had stolen all traffic away from the old rural road, and, like most mom-and-pop stops, this one was closed, boarded up, and forgotten. I sat for a moment, listening to the creak of the old sign, working up my courage.

“Ghost? Come sit with me for a minute.” I stepped out of the car, reaching into my pocket and fishing out a pack of cigarettes as I did. I’d confiscated them from Al a couple of days ago; he wasn’t supposed to smoke, and I gleefully tortured him under the guise of concern. I had intended to throw the pack away eventually. Instead, I kept forgetting it was there.

I placed one cigarette between my lips and searched my pockets for a lighter.

Ghost appeared beside me before I found one. He leaned close, his face inches from mine, and touched the end of the cigarette with the glowing heat of his lips. It flared orange, then settled into a bright ember.

“What did he say?” Ghost demanded, watching me inhale a lungful of smoke. The bitter sweetness gave me something to focus on; I held it for a moment before letting the smoke spill slowly between my lips.

“He didn’t say anything.”

Ghost stared at me.

“He wasn’t there,” I added.

“Where was he?”

I sighed and looked toward the boarded truck stop, buying myself one more second. There was no good way to deliver the next line. I could only hope the old muscle car was built strong enough to survive the impact.

“He’s dead.”

Ghost’s engine died. Not with the reluctant sputter of an old machine losing power; every sound simply ceased at once, leaving the countryside unnaturally quiet.

I turned toward the shadow beside me. His features were almost gone, with barely a glow where his eyes were. I reached out to make sure he was still there, and he vanished as I touched his cheek, my fingertips passing through the empty air.

I didn’t push. I didn’t ask if he was okay.

Of course he wasn’t okay.

A loss for most humans is devastating. Family, lovers, friends, pets–it hardly mattered what shape love had taken; it still hurt when it vanished. But for Ghost? Whoever John was, he had been Ghost’s everything. Cars didn’t have parents or children. All they had to lose were their owner and themselves.

Right then, Ghost was losing everything. Yes, he had me. Legally, financially, and increasingly against my better judgment, he had me. But we had known each other for only a few weeks. I could not be offended that those weeks did not outweigh the thirty years he’d spent with John. I knew the difference between blossoming affection and love already lived.

I leaned back against Ghost’s side and smoked in silence, the cigarette burning slowly between my fingers. Ash collected at the tip before dropping into the damp grass, and I watched the cherry creep closer to the filter, brightening whenever the wind moved through it. Ghost remained hidden, though now and then I felt a faint tremor pass through the metal supporting my back.

When the heat reached my fingers, I let the cigarette fall and crushed it beneath my boot.

“He didn’t leave you,” I said.