Chapter 26
Sawyer
We make decent time to Santa Monica. Or decent by Los Angeles standards. In twenty-five minutes, we’re parking outside Ariana Harrison’s house. Thank you, Saturday-morning traffic-free highways.
Morgan reaches for her purse in the back seat. She seems to startle, and while I watch her in uncomprehending interest, she looks back over her shoulder to inspect the contents she’s rummaging through.
Withdrawing her hand, she holds the dragon mug. “Zach, why?”
Zach looks sheepish. “I don’t know. I just do it without thinking,” he says, rubbing his elbow. “Can we go in? What if my unfinished business is at this party?”
Morgan’s gaze finds mine. We exchange a glance like we’re the annoyed but adoring parents of a grown ghost child.
“Of course,” Morgan replies. She returns the mug to her purse for safekeeping.
The home is lovely. It’s the sort of Spanish Colonial meets suburban style I saw Kennedy work on often.
Morgan admires the lively combination of hedges and cacti as we walk.
On the front steps, the scent of home-cooked food wafts through the heavy wooden front door.
I follow Morgan inside, where we notice streamers and HAPPY BIRTHDAY banners hanging over doorways.
“Zach,” Morgan murmurs, “is today Ariana’s birthday?”
Zach walks with us into the entryway. His footsteps hover just over the rust-colored tile. His stare sweeps the room intently, like he’s searching the home for clues. “I…can’t remember,” he confesses. “Maybe?”
It feels promising. I wonder if Zach’s Ouija board message has led us here so he can get some closure with his sister on her birthday. I’m not usually one for optimism, but everything this morning with Morgan has me feeling unexpectedly upbeat.
We continue through the house and into the backyard, following the sound of voices.
In the home’s expansive, welcoming backyard, kids play on a small swing set while the adults have gathered around an unlit firepit.
The scene is picturesque. The Technicolor green grass, the cooler stacked with ice, the cans of seltzer and craft soda condensing on the concrete cylinder of the firepit.
Confused glances greet us. Since no one can see Zach, I know we look like random strangers wandering into this birthday party.
Until Bill Harrison notices us. Zach’s father’s worn features light up. “Sawyer! Morgan!” He gets up from his deck chair. “These are Zach’s friends,” he explains to surrounding family. “I’m so glad you came!”
Mr. Harrison hustles our way from the patio. He sweeps us both into a hug.
It’s unexpectedly meaningful. My heart does this unusual wobbly thing I’ve noticed lately. I’m touched. Morgan has a similar lopsided smile, and I know she is, too.
“How are you?” Bill inquires like he really wants to know.
“We’re good, Mr. Harrison,” Morgan replies earnestly.
“Really good,” I hear myself concur. “How are you?”
Bill gets teary, which I understand well. When Kennedy died, the simplest things could send my emotions into overdrive. The happiest reprieves were still sad. “I’m good, too,” Bill replies. “Today is a happy day.”
On cue, the hostess herself emerges from inside the house. I recognize Ariana_Scuba87 from her social media. Compared to Zach, Ariana Harrison is strikingly grown-up, effortlessly put together in understated California style.
What she shares with her sibling is her smile. When she spots her newest guests, her expression lights up, matching her father’s enthusiasm despite her having never met us. She deposits the ice she’s carrying in the drink cooler, then veers toward us.
Zach stands in her path. He stares, looking overwhelmed, like every memory of one of the most important people in his life has just returned to him.
“Ari—” he starts to say.
His sister walks right through him.
Zach’s form shimmers. He’s understandably stunned.
Morgan recovers seamlessly. “Hey, Ariana!” she greets Zach’s sister. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”
“Oh, of course. Please, feel free to get some food,” she says. “Zach’s friends are always welcome.”
Past my eagerness for that smoky, spicy scent, I feel Ari’s invitation deep in my chest. Zach’s friends.
The most idyllic part of this scene isn’t the emerald grass or the laughter in the sunshine.
It’s the feeling of community. I haven’t been part of one in years, and Zach’s family doesn’t even know me.
Yet their kindness has me feeling impossibly welcome.
Feeling like I shouldn’t have ignored my lost friends’ outreach. Feeling like I should have left my haunted house long ago.
“So, um,” Ari prompts us pleasantly, “you wanted to ask me some stuff about Zach?” Sudden mortification casts over her. “Please don’t tell me he owes you money.”
Morgan smiles. “I mean, he did break my shower curtain, but no. It was worth replacing just to hang out with him.”
“Aw, Morgan.” Zach has recomposed himself. He materializes, sitting on the edge of the firepit near us. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”
Morgan ignores him.
Ari looks relieved. “Good,” she says. “We had a GoFundMe for his funeral, but I’m not sure ‘Pay Zach’s ex the cost of his freeloading’ would get the same community support.”
Zach laughs.
“Hey,” Bill interjects. “Don’t talk about your brother like that.”
“Why not?” Ari shrugs, and I see more of Zach in her. The irreverence. The love found in honesty. “I was always ragging on him. And he ragged on me. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean I’m going to treat him any different. He wouldn’t want it that way. It would be way too sad.”
Zach has grown serious hearing Ari’s explanation. “She’s right,” he says to me and Morgan. “It would legit suck if my sister stopped making fun of me. Then I’d feel really dead.”
I feel compelled to speak up where the ghost can’t. “Zach was a good sport,” I say. “Teasing just meant he was the center of attention, which of course—”
“He loved,” Ari finishes.
Her smile is wide and uncomplicated. Like a cloudless sky.
It seems impossible to me. I watch Zach’s sister closely, feeling like she’s holding the key to some equation or long-secret code.
I’ve just…never experienced this form of grief.
When Kennedy died, I shut down. I isolated myself from people and experiences.
I lived in loss for so long I never saw how it looks on the other side.
Now I do. Zach’s family still misses him, but they’re making more joyful memories. They’re remembering Zach with jokes and smiles.
They’ve figured out how to reverse the chronology of what I recognized in Bill. Yes, no joy is without sadness. But here, Zach’s family has learned how to wrap sadness in the warm embrace of joy. If Zach weren’t invisible in our midst, I suspect he would still feel close right now.
Fortunately, while I’m contemplating grief, Morgan remembers our objective. “We were wondering if there was anything you needed help with? Anything Zach maybe left in the middle of doing that you could use some help resolving?” she says, plying Ari gently.
Zach’s sister looks grateful and surprised. “That’s really sweet.” She pauses. “I guess…”
We hold our breath. Even Zach.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where his car keys are, would you? I haven’t been able to find them, and he left his van parked in my driveway,” Ari explains with a hint of humor. She looks to the sky. “Nothing like free parking for all eternity, right, bud?”
“Whoops.” Zach rubs his chin. “Totally forgot about that.”
Morgan and I deflate. I hope Ariana doesn’t notice. Inconvenient parking? This isn’t unfinished business worth living in limbo for.
I fight hopelessness. It’s what Zach would want. Does want? I’ll inquire with the man himself on whether he prefers past tense these days. “We’ll see if we can find them,” I reassure Ari. “Anything else we could do for you, or for Zach? Anything that might help lay his memory to rest?”
Ari looks like she wants to help. Like she understands the importance of our interrogation. Oh, if only.
“You’re really devoted friends,” she says.
“But of course you are. Zach was the kind of guy you let break your shower curtain and park in your driveway forever, wasn’t he?
No,” she says reluctantly. “Nothing else. Zach was happy.” She gestures to the table on the patio.
“Please, have some cake before you leave. For Zach.”
Morgan hides her disappointment effortlessly, but I know her well enough to know she’s doing it. “We will,” she promises.
Honestly, I could go for some cake. My whole breakfast was thank-you coffee this morning.
Glancing where Ari gestured, I find the cake table. The tablecloth is dragon-patterned.
I survey the yard, intrigued. Dragon streamers, dragon-shaped paper plates, dragon napkins. Even the cake depicts the remaining half of a green dragon’s face. Unless she’s really into fantasy novels, I realize, this party is not for Ariana.
“Wow,” I venture. “I’ve never seen so many dragons in my life.”
Ari grins proudly. “It’s my son, Henry. He’s turning seven today.” She points out a dark-haired boy pushing a little girl on the swings. “We’ve read every book that features dragons in the library multiple times,” Ari assures us.
Morgan watches Henry wide-eyed.
I do the same.
She finds her voice first. “If…if it’s okay with you, Zach gave me something to give Henry.”
“He—” Ari swallows. Past the tears that leap into her eyes, she looks puzzled. “He did?”
Zach seems overcome looking at his nephew. The sunlight shines through him for a moment, making him seem like he’s glowing. I can’t imagine how many memories are returning to him.
“Yes,” Morgan replies, clearly thinking fast. “When we were…He mentioned Henry to me. He—we found this amazing artist,” Morgan elaborates. “Zach had something made. He knew his nephew would love it.”
Ari wipes her eyes. “Please.” She clears her throat like she’s fighting her tears. “Please, give it to him. Oh, Zach,” she says to herself.