Ghost of You

Gordon was at the kitchen table sipping from a mug when I walked in, the newspaper unfolded in his hands. He set his mug down and traced over me with his eyes.

“You're back,” he said.

I nodded, looking around. The house was hot, even with all the windows open.

“Simone was worried about you. She woke up and you were gone, no note or nothing. Where were you?”

I slanted my eyes at him. What was he, my keeper? “I just took a walk. Had a bad dream.”

Gordon glanced at the clock. It was nearly 2:30 in the afternoon. He tapped his fingertips against the wooden table.

“You've been gone for hours, Tom,” he said. I shrugged. “So, where were you?”

“I told you!” I exclaimed, exasperated.

“That doesn't mean anything, dammit!”

Gordon stood up quickly, his mug twirling around on the table. I stepped back quickly, my eyes searching around him. He was breathing heavily, his body tensed. I whimpered, ready to peel out the door. Gordon relaxed, running his hand through his brown hair, his rings sparkling.

“Where's Mom?” I rushed. “Mom!”

Gordon folded his arms across his chest, staring at the floor. “She took off,” he snapped.

“She... what? What did you do to her?!”

He looked up at me, his eyes fierce. “What do you mean, 'what did I do'? I didn't do shit! She's the one who took off all pissed. I simply said she needed to go looking for you, but no, her precious little baby would be just fine all by his lonesome. I told her if she took better care of people, maybe poor little Billy wouldn't have died.”

I stood still, glaring. And then it struck me: Gordon was drunk. He was slurring his speech and staggering around. I had never seen him like this before, so angry. He had never been a violent person. I didn't even know he drunk. Fear took over my body then.

“Where did she go?” I asked in the calmest voice I could muster, my hands trembling.

He shrugged, his arms doing an odd jerking motion.

“Why don't I call her cellphone? I'm sure she'll come back after she knows I'm all right.”

I took a step for the wireless phone on the small coffee table next to the couch. Gordon advanced and I hopped back. His lips were pulled back like a snarling dog, his eyes half closed, his hands fists. “No, that won't be necessary. See, I plan to take care of you myself for being disobedient.”

“G-Gordon, let's not be hasty...”

He laughed, tilting his head back. He leaned forward, wobbly, and let out a belch. He grinned down at me, using his finger to beckon me forward.

“Gordon,” I cried again. “Please. I didn't know you would mind if I left...”

“No, no, Tom, why would I mind? You're just some obsessed, terrified, unruly teenager wandering the streets with all your hoodlum friends, causing trouble.” He tapped his chin. “I'm surprised you haven't been brought home in handcuffs already.”

“I'm not a bad kid, Gordon,” I pointed out. Where was he getting all this from?

He shook his head, making an odd shushing noise. “Bad boys get bad punishments, Tom,” he slurred. “And if you try to run, I won't be a very happy camper, with you or your mother.”

I felt my eyes go wide as I searched behind my back for the doorknob.

“Now, Tom, you wouldn't want me to hurt anyone, would you? I don't like hurting your mother, but that doesn't mean I won't do it.”

I let out a sob, pressing myself against the door.

“Now, come over here and take your punishment like a good boy, and we'll forget this ever happened, hmm?”

I shut my eyes, whispering for God to not let this happen.