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But…
She was pretty, but in a way that felt real. Well, it felt tired, but I don’t mean that in a bad way. In fact, the cracks on her surface made her more beautiful, like one of those vases they repair with gold or whatever. I saw one once at some kind of Asian art exhibit with my pops, but he wasn’t exactly keen on seeing that stuff after the war. My mom loved it, though, and that same beauty, that same tired grace, was in her eyes, too. Probably from dealing with schmucks all their lives. My pops and the asshole this girl had brought with her didn’t seem all that different.
She felt brutally, painfully, beautifully human. Being near her made me almost remember what that felt like. Almost. I’d bet that my own human experience wasn’t all that human. What the hell did I know about a normal, simple life? Even when I was living, my life was far, far from traditional.
Although, judging by this girl’s look, normal might have been a stretch for her too. I wasn’t surprised to find that I loved it. Back when I’d been alive, girls didn’t have purple hair and dark lipstick. Seeing it on her, I thought that was a damned shame. People used to be concerned with looking “proper” or “ladylike,” but despite what my contemporaries would have thought… her dark-rimmed eyes, her long lashes… all of it only accentuated what was already there. It wasn’t just ladylike. It was downright queenly.
Which didn’t exactly match the guy I’d seen beside her. He was the court jester to her queen or maybe the royal shit shoveler. Either way, he didn’t seem worth a lick, and he definitely didn’t seem to be worthy of barking up this particularly beautiful tree. He was maybe ninety pounds soaking wet, with the kind of greasy hair and thin mustache my buddies and I would have given him hell for. His pants were about two sizes too small, and he had on a white tee with the shirt sleeves cuffed like he was trying to be, well… me. Except he’d topped it off with a bandana in his pocket and some well-worn cowboy boots. I could tell he’d never done anything someone could call cowboy-like. I bet he thought those boots made him look tough.
They didn’t.
The woman—Marnie, he’d called her—cleared her throat and seemed to steel herself. I liked her name. I didn’t hear it much nowadays, but it reminded me of girls I used to know.
“Okay,” she whispered. “This is gonna be good, girl. You wanted this. He’s going to change. You know he’s going to. Do not throw away two years.” She tucked two long strands of purple behind her ears and smiled at her reflection. “Time to unpack.”
This time, she yelled loud enough for the guy to hear her, her tone bright and lovely. “Well, I think we’ve done the grand tour, babe. Wanna help me unpack?”
Footsteps clomped below, and I followed her as she jogged out of the bathroom and downstairs. I tried to keep my eyes above her waist, but the damned pants she had on may as well have been painted on. I hadn’t seen an ass that sinful in a long time. And remember, I’d been to Hell.
“Beck?” she called again hopefully, trotting into the kitchen. She did one lap, then another, as if Beck might materialize in the room. When she spun in a circle and drew close to me, I noticed her skin erupt with goosebumps.
“Geez,” she murmured, wrapping her arms tightly over her chest. “What is with the temperature in this place?”
I jumped back and gave her a wide berth, examining the kitchen as I did. It was weird to see the old room repainted and shined up, though I could still see what it used to look like just underneath the fresh coat of paint. Also, focusing on the room’s changes kept me from focusing on Marnie. She was like a lightbulb, and I was a moth. Okay, her ass was kind of the lightbulb, and I was feeling a little uncomfortable by how much it was drawing me in. I might be dead, but I’m not… dead if you catch my drift. Y’know, I’m pretty alive below the belt.
Though, if I was being honest with myself, it was more than just the caveman physical processes my body was responding to. In a way, I was used to that. That sort of thing was more than commonplace in Hell, where lust lived right beside anger. But there was something else. Something in my chest was kicking on, as rusty and clunky as a busted radiator, but it was there. My heart didn’t beat anymore, but there was something there, like the burn after a shot of strong whiskey. It was like an old car cigarette lighter, a pinhole of red fire pressed flush to your forearm.
No, Gabe, I told myself. Not you. None of this is for you. You had twenty-one years, and you get nothing else.
I swallowed uncomfortably and tried to ignore the small swell of emotion, that small sun in my gut. I tapped my fingers absentmindedly on the countertop. Marnie, that beautiful girl, she might make a meal on this counter one day. She might craft something with love for that skinny fella. The only thing I ever knew in this house was hate. All I ever knew anywhere. Probably all I ever deserved.
Marnie called out once more. “Beck?”
I heard the clip-clop of his asinine little boots as he strolled back in from the living room. “Babe—”
Marnie held up one finger. “Okay, I get it. It’s not a mansion, and it’s got a… colorful history, but can we just please give it a shot? Beck, I know your mom’s house was comfortable for you, but it wasn’t for me. Can you understand that?”
Beck—what kinda name was that—raked his hand through his hair. “I suppose—”
She closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around his waist, then kissed him. I felt a flash of sudden, surprising anger as I watched them embrace. The guy’s posture softened, and he wrapped his arms around her. Apparently, kissing him was a good way to shut him up and win him over. As much as I hated seeing it, and as much as I was dripping with jealousy, I couldn’t blame the guy. If someone like her kissed me like that, I’d do just about anything she asked.
He broke apart from their kiss. “Not fair.”
She tiptoed her fingers down his chest with a devilish grin. “Just think… we can be nice and loud here without your mom around. We have a whole house…. to ourselves. For whatever.”
The innuendo was as subtle as a brick, and it made the uncomfortable spear of jealousy in my gut burn hotter.
“Marn, I just… Listen, we can stay for a month.” The thin, weaselly man looked down at her with a guarded expression. “I mean, this place could be great for my narrative. I really think I could write a few songs here. You know, murder is really big in the country scene these days. TikTok calls it y’allternative, but you know me, babe. I’m really trying to hit those American roots. Nashville is so big right now.”
I did my best not to throw up in my mouth. When the heck had outlaw country… or at least that’s what I think he meant… become a fashion trend? In my day, we had Waylon and Johnny Cash, even though I liked stuff that had more swing. Still, those guys woulda mopped the floor with a patsy like this.
“So, it’s a yes?” she said, bouncing excitedly in his arms. Her smile could have lit up the damned night sky.
He cupped her chin and ran a thumb along the bottom of her lower lip, then kissed her. My whole body thrummed with something I couldn’t fully describe, and the room darkened as if a storm cloud had enveloped the entire home.
“Mm,” Marnie said suddenly, pulling away from Beck with a little shake of her shoulders and a chatter of her teeth. “Do you feel that? It’s so cold all of a sudden!”
Beck pulled her tighter, and she giggled. For a second, all the tension I’d observed between them earlier melted away, and I could see how they worked as a couple. At least I could see what had drawn them together.
