You're a Ghost, So Why Can I See You?

“It was nice meeting you too.” I continued to smile, and unlike my other smiles here at work, this one wasn’t fake or forced. I felt giddy and happy.

Ian nodded his head and turned to leave, but stopped and quickly turned around. “Hey, do you work tomorrow?”

I felt my face flush. “Uh, yeah.”

“Okay then. Good.” He held up his bag with the sandwich in it. “Thanks for the sub.”

I was still in a daze when he left. Did that mean he was coming tomorrow…? He probably just liked the way I made his sub and might stop by tomorrow to get another one. Yeah. That makes sense, right? Maybe he’d gone from Subway to Subway looking for someone who could make a good sub and he just happened to like this one.

Even five minutes after he was gone, I still couldn’t believe that someone like him had actually talked to me. Of course guys talked to me all the time at school, but all of them were always jerks. And Ian…he wasn’t. Well, as far as I knew he wasn’t. He didn’t seem like a jerk. There was something sincere about the way he smiled, the honesty in his voice, and the sweetness in his eyes…

God, listen to me go on. I didn’t even know the guy. He could be trying to get in my pants for all I knew.

“Peyton,” Mr. Platt said as he came back front from the backroom. “It’s 8:30. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I glanced at the clock. Huh. How the time flies when one’s having fun! Meh, not really. The whole day had been a drag. It wasn’t like anything exciting happened around here. Get up, go to school, go to work, go home, sleep, and repeat.

“Okay,” I said heading towards the door. “Bye.”

“Wait a minute!” Mr. Platt called after me. I stopped and raised my eyebrows. “Don’t be so stupid tomorrow either. You did crap work today.”

I hesitated before leaving, but then finally did and got into my bright yellow jeep. As I drove down the road towards home, I didn’t think twice about what Mr. Platt had said. That was just how he was. Deep, deep, really deep down somewhere I’m sure he was a really good guy. He just cared about his job a lot and that sometimes got in the way of his kindness factor.

Ten minutes later, I shut the front door as quietly as I could. I never knew if my parents were sleeping or awake, and I never knew where they might be in the house if they were awake. I could easily guess about my mother, dead asleep and drunk. My father…well, I was never sure with him. He may be like Mom, or maybe sitting quietly in the living room drunk while waiting for me to get home.

A cold shiver ran up my spine.

Those were the worst times. Only until a few months ago had I become scared of coming home. It was one cold, rainy night when I came home late from working overtime down at Subway when my perfect relationship with my father turned not so perfect anymore. He was beat drunk, Mom out at some club and more than likely not to be home that night, and was there waiting on my bed when I went up to my room. I remember the screaming, the crying, and the sound of fabric tearing… Ever since then, I had been afraid to come home.

Home.Wasn’t that supposed to be a comforting word? A place of safety and security. A place where a family could eat dinner together and talk about their days, while laughing and smiling together. What about watching the Saturday night movie together, or playing a game of Monopoly? Weren’t these all things a family was supposed to do in a home?

Yeah, well, the only thing is that my family was screwed up. Correction: my parents were screwed up. I was surprised that I came out normal and am still sane. I couldn’t say family because that would be a lie. We weren’t a family. We were three people who were shoved together in a fucked up game, hosted by God, while him and all of his minions watched.

You’re probably thinking, “Why isn’t she going to the police?”. Well, I’m a senior in high school. Imagine all the chaos that would go on if I did go to the police. I wasn’t eighteen yet, so they’d pull me out of my “home”, put me in foster care, take me away from everything I know, and screw up everything. I was a straight A student and I was well liked by all my classmates and teachers. Needless to say, I could handle a few more months of this hell.

After making sure the living room was clear, I tiptoed up the steps and snuck into my room. The lights were off like always, I didn’t see the reason of leaving the lights on and wasting energy, so I stayed still for a moment allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

There was no way in hell I was going to turn on the lights. So many things could go wrong: the light switch could decide to make a loud POP noise when I flipped it up, the bulb could explode, or the light could somehow wake my dad up. If you don’t mind, I’d rather wait the extra minute of my eyes adjusting.

Anyways, when they finally did, I slipped of my shoes and clothes, ran a brush through my hair, and quickly tiptoed to the bathroom across the hall. Once again, no lights. I peed as quietly as I could then washed my hands and brushed my teeth. And finally, my favorite part of the day. Sleep.

I loved to sleep. Everything that happened during the day, or simply whatever’s bothering you, goes away. And if you’re lucky, like I was this particular night, you dream of what good things happened during the day.

Mine, for instance, was a certain blond haired, brown eyed, tan, mysterious boy…