Vintage: A Ghost Story (10 page)

There were still more surprises that day. Around four o’clock, Maggie walked into the shop.
I had met most of Trace’s clique when we had all driven out to one of the last remaining drive-in movie theaters in the state. School had just let out for summer and Maggie reveled in the freedom. She began the night showing off her latest tattoo, a crown inside of a heart, inked onto her lower back.
At first, she intimidated me, being so open about her sexuality, unafraid to whistle at any remotely cute girl walking nearby. I had been quiet about being gay and thought only Trace knew.
That night, in the middle of the flick, some bad vampire movie, Maggie and Kim got out of the car for a snack refill and told me to come along.
A boy our age worked the concession stand. Sorta cute. As he dumped more popcorn into the bag, Kim leaned over and read his nametag.
“So, Bobby,” she said, while chewing on a straw, “are you a boring guy that goes home after the drive-in closes, drinks some warm milk, and slips under the covers? Or do you like to have fun?”
He half smiled at her, looking suddenly nervous. “Uhh, sure.”
I inwardly groaned and looked out at the field of cars lined up before the big screen. Trace had warned me that Kim liked attention. Maggie ignored her and knelt down to tap the glass in front of the candy. “Oooh, wish they had Valomilks.”
“Well, which is it?” Kim leaned in further, no doubt to offer him a bigger view of her limited breasts through the gauzy top she wore.
“Yeah, I have fun.”
“Cool, cool. So I’m thinking some snogging is long overdue.”
“Snogging?” Snackboy Bobby asked.
Kim laughed. “Kissing. Heavy. Duty. Kissing. You like that sort of thing, right?” She grabbed at my shoulder and turned me around to face him, slapping me rudely on the back. “My friend here hasn’t snogged a boy in ages. He’s moist at just the thought of you and him.”
I stood there, mortified, face burning, unable to look away at his expression of disgust.
Maggie came to my rescue. She stepped in front of me, pounding a fist onto the glass counter and making Snackboy jump. With the other hand she jabbed Kim hard in the sternum. “Thanks for reminding me there are bitches in the world,” she said and grabbed my hand and led me back to the car.
Kim came back a moment later with popcorn and soda. “Too bad. You and Bobby would have made a tasty couple.”
“Why the hell did you do that?” Maggie snatched the cup, tore off the lid and took a gulp.
“That was done because,” Kim motioned back to the snack bar with a greasy hand, “one, he looked like a dork and you’re supposed to play with guys like that.” She popped a kernel and looked straight at me. “Two, I can’t stand a virgin. Three, you’re so scared, little boy, of telling anyone you’re gay.”
Maggie dumped the soda over Kim’s head. The scrawny Asian girl shrieked, lifting up her arms and spilling the bag of popcorn all over herself too. Kernels stuck to her face and fingers like odd yellowed growths. “Kim, surprised you’re not melting.”
In the car, while an oblivious Trace watched the movie and Kim sulked while drying off with paper towels from the restroom, Maggie put her arm around me and told me that not everyone needed to be out to be proud.
Since then I’ve come to care for Maggie and her girlfriend Liz. It’s really great to see them together—even when they fight, it’s like part of some odd game that they each want the other to win.
Standing there in the shop, Maggie offered me a cheerful, “Hey kiddo.” The coppery eyebrow ring she wore matched her hair. She rested her elbows on the counter, the alphabet charm bracelet on her wrist, with its silver blocks spelling K I N G, sliding down.
“What’s up?”
“Same shit.” She loudly snapped her chewing gum. “I thought of doing something special for Liz this Halloween.”
“Aww.”
“Heh, so I need a sexy costume.” Maggie winked at me. “That stuff at the mall is awful, so I came here.”
“Hmm.” I glanced around the store then considered what we had upstairs. “You’re a size ten?”
“Eleven. A flapper would be damn cool.”
I went to the showier clothes that Malvern had hanging against one wall. The go-go dancer dress from the 1960s was an ugly yellow and obviously too tight for Maggie. She liked running her hands through all the fringes though. She cooed over an older dress that would fit, a strapless one in black Chantilly lace over taffeta. It looked like something an old movie starlet might wear to a cocktail dinner. But the price tag of $145 almost made her choke.
She had a few twenties in her wallet and, after scrounging through her camouflaged backpack, she found enough to bring her total to just over sev enty dollars. I tried not to frown, knowing there were few full outfits she could afford.
“This is just for Liz, right? No one else will see you wearing it?” An idea had come to me.
“Nah, we’re not going trick-or-treating or anything.” She pulled a long, pink strand of the gum from her mouth, twirling it around her finger.
“How about a peignoir?”
“A pen-what?” She nibbled away until the gum returned to her mouth.
“Peignoir.” I went to the steps. “French. It’s a loose dressing gown.” I started to climb. “Very sexy.”
“Oh?” She called up from the foot of the stairs.
“Hold a sec,” I answered. Back on the third floor, I went to one of the stacks I had sorted through with Second Mike that morning. I stopped and touched my lips and thought of him for a moment. His kiss had been so different from Josh’s: nervous and rushed. I couldn’t help wonder what might have happened next.
I brought down a dusty cardboard box and set it on the counter. “Malvern told me he tried to sell lingerie a few years ago, but too many peo ple fingering the pieces ruined them, plus there were some thefts, so he stopped.” I opened the box and lifted out the topmost satin garment. “He never sold off these peignoirs. He’d be thrilled to get a decent price for them.”
They came as a set, a gauzy nightgown that stopped at the knees with a wrap of sorts that covered the shoulder and back. Several fit Maggie’s figure. I thought she’d choose the silky nylon peignoir the color of coral with white lace along the neckline but she hesitated over one black and more lacy.
“Liz likes color,” I suggested.
Maggie again picked up the coral lingerie. “How much?”
I looked over the sheet of paper that had been left with the lingerie. Malvern’s handwriting. “Fifty.” He would not complain over making a few dollars.
“How about thirty and pictures?”
I laughed and rang her up on the old cash register. I felt good helping her romance Liz. She thanked me with a hug as I wrapped up the outfit for her.
“So, Trace told me we’re hanging out this week.” She jangled her car keys. “You’ll be there, right?”
“Definitely.”

I came back to find my aunt’s house dark and silent. I turned on a few lights and put the bag of takeout on the kitchen table.

Even though whispered, Josh’s low voice surprised me and I jumped a little.
He stood in the hallway, dimly glowing, and every inch of him more beautiful than I remembered. The lines of his face, the curve of every muscle in his chest and arms, made me ache.
He turned and walked in the direction of my bedroom. “I’ve missed you,” I caught him saying.
Josh waited for me beside the bed. When I moved closer, he smiled and slowly slipped onto his knees. He looked up at me and I lost all ability to think. He took hold of my hand, sending shivers through me. I wanted us to stay that way all night, him on his knees before me, looking both strong and tender.
I broke everything by reaching out to caress his hair. It felt so light and soft that I could not be sure I even touched anything more substantial than smoke. But he closed his eyes and seemed to like what I did.
I yearned to grasp and pull him with me to the bed and leaned closer to let him know how I felt. His tongue in my mouth was like sucking on an ice cube. Nothing had ever tasted like him. As if my face was immersed in wa ter, but none of it trickled down my throat.
He put his hand over my crotch and lightly squeezed. I jumped a little and then, laid my own on the back of his neck. My pulse at the wrist cooled down, sending chilled blood throughout my body.
He kissed me again and I did not pull my mouth away until every bit of oxygen had left my lungs. I envied his not needing air; I wanted to stay locked with him forever.
Josh started to unbutton his shirt. I was captivated, holding my breath until he revealed a perfect chest. Each muscle visible beneath skin like pale ivory and a vague shadow where golden hair must once have grown around the nipples and a streak heading down to his waist. My hand trembled when it reached out to touch him. Josh remained still like a statue. I worried that once more I’d be lost to his memories, as my fingers reached his skin and went forward just a fraction deeper. Not yet solid, but coming close. It felt like dipping my hand into cool, delightful water. No ripples other than the smile he gave me. I felt relief that my mind remained clear, focused on the here and now. On my ghost.
He reached out to me and lifted up the edges of my shirt, letting his touch slide up my sides. He had taken something so simple and made it so indescribably perfect, that I lost my breath.
Josh then laid one hand on my chest and gently slid the other to the back of my head. I actually sighed when he started to slide his fingers through my hair; it felt like wind blowing against me. I was so hard now; I could feel how I had begun to leak, leaving my boxers cool and sticky.
“Touch you deeply,” he murmured.
I nodded, not really understanding what he meant or wanted, then gasped as I felt his hand push inside my chest. A moment of pain at first contact and then a gentle thrill as he explored me. I looked down and saw his arm end at the wrist against my flesh.
He made me cry out again when his fingertips began to tap like cold drops over the outside of what must be my heart. As he began to stroke me there, I started to shake at the contact, until finally I threw myself against him, hugging him tight, feeling his entire forearm now pressed inside of me. I held onto him with white knuckles and even bared teeth, and moaned.
“Yes,” he whispered into my ear.
My heartbeat slowed under his cold touch, coaxed into relaxing while I shuddered. I thought, now I know what dying is like. Beautiful Josh was killing me. But there was no fear or pain. Fuck, no. I gasped at the pleasure of being touched so intimately. Moments ago I had sprayed the inside of my pants, but the orgasm never stopped.
When I could no longer hold him, even as he became solid and whole, I collapsed onto the mattress. My flesh felt insubstantial, as if I was the ghost. Josh’s arm slid out of me and I cried out hoarsely at losing that touch.
He leaned down and kissed me lightly on the lips. His mouth against mine felt odd. Warm. My limbs shook; Josh had left the cold inside of me. My teeth chattered uncontrollably.
He headed for the shadows and I wanted to cry out for him to wait, to come back and touch me again, but his touch had left me so weak that before I could find my voice again, he had disappeared and left me alone once more.
I managed to bring the blankets over me in the hopes I might get warm but I could barely feel them. The thought of falling asleep frightened me. I might never wake up.

After the knock at the bathroom door, I lifted my head out of the water to catch a breath. “Trace?” I called out.
She opened the door. “Are you okay?”
Another time, I would have laughed. She looked so out of sorts, no makeup, with a dark trench coat over a flimsy cotton nightgown. My phone call at midnight had startled her but I had no choice. With my aunt gone, I needed someone there; I knew I couldn’t last the night on my own.
I lied naked in an overflowing tub. Spilled water was everywhere. Her bare feet splashed on the tile floor.
Trace pulled up the wicker clothes hamper to the edge of the tub and sat down on it. “What happened?”
My arm rose up slightly but the air felt so cold against my wet skin that I quickly let it splash down. I ducked back under the water for a second to clear my thoughts. “Josh came by tonight.”

“And?” She went to brush away some of the wet hair from my face but I shook my head.
“Don’t. I’m still not right.” A shudder went through me, spilling some water out of the tub. The last thing I wanted was to be touched.
She dipped a fingertip into the water around my shoulder and quickly pulled it back. “Fuck, that’s hot!”
“It’s not enough.”
“Tell me what happened. Did he hurt you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” The last words came out with a whine. I ducked my head under again. Trying to tell Trace what happened was hard to explain. How to say that I had lost some integral virginity with my ghost? How to express what it was like to have him inside of me? There was no way I could even come close to describing the sensations.
“Did he hurt you?” she repeated, her voice tinged with frustration.
“We went into the bedroom. He told me how he felt. Then we…” As the water began to turn lukewarm, my arms underneath the water started to shake, sending ripples across the surface. Soon the trembling spread to the rest of me, and I gritted my teeth and clenched every muscle to keep still. “You didn’t?” Her eyebrows rose higher than I’ve ever
seen. “With your ghost?”
I tried a weak grin. “Yeah we did. Sorta.” I clutched my chest beneath the water, which had grown cold again. “And I think it almost killed me. He touched me… it’s like he left ice inside of me.”
“We need to get you warm.”
I nodded as she found some towels. I slid and almost broke my neck. She wrapped me in terrycloth. I shook less than before, but the cold remained inside me. Trace led me into the kitchen looking for something hot for me to drink. She seemed lost looking in the pantry. “Ovaltine, Hamburger Helper, Shake ’n Bake.” Her face was nearly aghast. “Where the hell does your aunt shop? Mayberry?”
“Meals around here can be scary.”
She took a jar to the stovetop and filled the kettle. “Go put clothes on.”
I nodded, my face a rictus with an outburst of chattering teeth. In my room, I stripped off the wet boxers and grabbed whatever clothes were close at hand, trying to cover up as much of me as possible. Two pairs of socks, briefs, sweatpants, T-shirt, and a black-dyed rugby shirt with torn sleeves.
I came out to the song of the kettle, the blanket from my bed wrapped around me. Trace poured what resembled brown chalk dust into a mug while I kept my hands inches above the hot burner. I wondered if my skin would sear if I laid a palm on the glowing coil; Trace would probably have a heart attack.
“Medicine?” I asked when she handed me the full mug.
“Bad hot chocolate.”
I breathed in the steam first. It smelled sickly sweet and made me wonder if chocolate ever spoiled like milk. Froth floated atop an obscene brown liq uid. I closed my eyes and chugged it down in three gulps. The ice that seemed to have coated my insides began to melt, making me feel loose and liquid under my skin.
I grunted, handing back the mug. “More.” I wanted to feel my throat scald.
She held up the jar, full except for the spoonfuls she had just used. “We have enough to party all night.”