Amongst the Aspens
1. Benji
A crunching sound followed by a sudden cloying smell pulls me from a dead sleep; my lungs filling with the scent of decay and damp earth. It’s been nearly fifteen years since I last experienced this particular smell and my eyes pop open in horror as I suddenly come into awareness. My first coherent thought is that Jessica, my best friend since fourteen, is dead. My second thought is that she has almost certainly been murdered.
What remains of my former friend is standing at the foot of my bed, staring at me with gray sightless eyes. Her auburn hair flows down past her shoulders in gentle waves, decaying leaves litter her hair, and a matching set of handprint bruises paint nearly the entirety of her neck. Her body has a strange translucent nature to it that I’ve seen exactly once before.
“What the fuck?” My own voice causes me to startle in the darkness and for a moment my breath is trapped in my throat as I try to swallow down a sudden wave of nausea. My heart is pounding so loud that I almost miss her final request.
“Find me.” The two words are no more than a whisper and then she vanishes, leaving only the smell of autumn decay in her wake.
For a moment, all I can do is stare at the streak of moonlight along the floor where her ghost had been standing. I’ve only seen one ghost in my entire life before tonight and after nearly a decade without another experience I had come to assume that it was a fluke. So, I wrote the whole solving a murder because a ghost asked experience off as a total one-off, a novelty never to be repeated.
I run a hand through my chocolate curls, snagging on a few small tangles leftover from what had started off as a good night's rest. I reach for my phone and the bright screen lights up and I stare at the clock for a moment before deciding to call Jessica.
Surely, this whole thing has been a fucked up dream. Jess will answer with a tired voice and we can spend a few minutes laughing about how I’m a little too old for nightmares.
The phone rings and rings, the dial tone shrill and piercing in the quiet of the night. In the pit of my stomach I know with eerie certainty that she isn’t going to answer but hope and denial are powerful drugs and I find myself pressing the call button again after going to voicemail. The dial tone is screeching but I can hardly hear it over the intense pounding of my heart against my chest.
After the third try, I hang up and let my phone drop to my lap in defeat. The still silence of my small place feels deafening and I consider my options. It’s the middle of the night and it’s not like I can call the police to report that I’ve seen a ghost so they better get on finding my friend. I also know I won’t be sleeping anytime soon, not after waking up to the sight of Jess’ lifeless eyes.
Logically, the best course would be to stay home and wait until morning but a bitter sort of energy is coursing through my veins. Jessica has been my entire world for nearly half my life. We’ve spent all of our best and worst moments together. Every heartbreak, every embarrassment, the highest of highs and lowest of lows. She is, or I suppose…was, my ride or die.
I can’t help but think about her contagious laugh or the way her smile had a way of lighting up an entire room. I never fully understood why she took a shy little twink like me under her wing but she’s earned my loyalty a thousand times over and the very least I can do is drive over to her place to make sure she’s okay.
My hands tremble as I push off the covers and make my way to the bathroom. Thankfully, I live in a small apartment alone and can take a hot shower at nearly three AM without disturbing anyone.
The hot spray does nothing to reassure me that I’ve been dreaming and that anxious energy that’s building just under the surface doesn’t die down as I try to force my body to relax. I’m not sure how long I mindlessly stand under the rain shower head trying to let the water wash away the smell of leaves. Eventually, the water begins to turn cold and I’m forced into action.
I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a massive Costco bath sheet that hangs nearly down to my feet. I let myself have another moment of comfort before pulling on some pajama pants and a sweater.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection and can’t help but cringe because I look like I’ve seen a literal ghost, and while I have actually just seen a literal ghost, I hadn’t expected it to be quite so obvious. My skin looks almost translucently pale and it makes the greens in my eyes look almost cartoonish. Sleep deprivation is not a good look on me.
I sniffle and try to hold back a few burning tears that threaten to spill down my cheeks. I’m hoping Jessica is completely fine but that sinking feeling in my stomach is unshakable. I know it wasn’t a dream. The smell of leaves is still filling my nose with each breath. It’s a constant reminder with each inhale that something truly terrible has happened to my favorite person in the world.
I know the first course of action is driving over to Jess’ to wake her roommate. There’s a chance she didn’t answer because she was actually sleeping and the rational part of my brain begins to cling to that small hope even as a voice in the back of my head whispers about the dangers of false hope.
Jessica’s apartment is directly off a busy street and parking has always been a pain. The half mile walk normally wouldn’t bother me but when the sun goes down the high desert gets extremely cold. The fog from my breath is a constant companion as I huff my way up a third flight of stairs to arrive at her door. I have to actively resist the urge to rub my hands together for warmth.
I knock on the door loud enough to be heard but with a friendly six tap so that Jess’ roommate Kristie isn’t startled awake by loud banging. For a second there is only silence and then the sound of shuffling and the lock clicking open.
Kristie eyes me tiredly, a look of confusion morphing into concern as she takes in my appearance. My pajama pants have surprised Pikachus, I’m wearing my most beat up pair of kicks, and I’m rocking a sweater with a literal hole in the armpit. It’s not my classiest look but I could barely think when I was getting dressed, let alone come up with an appropriate outfit.
“Uh, Jessica isn’t here.” Kristie’s voice is thick with sleep and confusion.
“Fuck, I was worried you’d say that. Do you know where she is?”
“She went on a date with someone she met on an app, some lumberjack looking guy from the pic she showed me. I assumed when she didn’t come home it meant it went well. Have you tried calling her?” I stare at Kristie for a moment and force myself to pause before responding because of fucking course I called her before driving over at three in the morning.
“Yeah, a ton of times. I’m really worried about her. Lumberjack guy? Is that someone she knew from Tinder or what?”
Lately, Jess has been casually seeing a few guys and trying out her options. She always joked that her life goal was to grow up to be the old Duchess from the Artistocats: rich, surrounded by cats, and single aside from the occasional gentleman caller. I’m all for her living her best ho life but it makes it challenging because I don’t even know this guy's name, let alone where he lives.
“I think so?” She sounds uncertain and an edge is creeping into her voice. I know Kristie works at a bakery and keeps insanely early hours so her patience is likely running low.
“Right, well if Jess does come home can you let her know I came by?” Even as I say the words they feel false and I know deep down Jess won’t be coming home.
“What do you mean if she comes home? I’ll let her know when she gets here but I’m sure she’s fine. I think you’re super overreacting Benji. Jess goes on dates and stays out overnight a couple times a month.”
Of course I know that Jess doesn’t always come home and often enjoys spending her time with whatever new transplant has moved to the area. Bend, Oregon has a constant influx and outflow of people, making it both impossible to date seriously and also very easy to hook up. Jessica has had a long running interest in being the vacation fling for handsome tourists and has often joked that vacationers are how she copes with living in a town with such a small dating pool.
I have a tendency of living vicariously through Jessica’s love life and she often spared no details when discussing her flavor of the week. Unfortunately, this lumberjack is a new flavor and Jess hadn’t dished any details yet.
“I’m sure she’ll turn up. Sorry for waking you. I’ll buy you a coffee next time I come by to make it up to you.” I know it’s quite likely the next time I come by it’ll be to pack up Jessica’s things but I don’t say that and instead give a small smile before heading back down the stairs.
The walk to my car is frigid without the false hope I had been clinging to warming me. An empty, hollow feeling is taking up residency in my chest as I begin to panic about what I need to do next.
Jessica’s parents passed away a couple years ago in a bad car accident. The only family she has left is her older brother Jack. Jack who hates my guts and always has for some indiscernible reason. I know where I can find him, he lives in the apartment above his small bar, but I also know he won’t be nearly as accommodating as Kristie was.
The absolute worst part about Jack, aside from the fact that he’s charming and friendly to literally everyone else in the world, is that he’s incredibly handsome. So hot it’s hard to even be in the same room as him and despite the scowl he always has when he looks at me, I can’t help but feel an intense attraction to him. Much like Jessica, he has auburn hair that looks nearly red in the sun. He’s tall, towering over me, with a masculine jaw and a pronounced cupid’s bow on his upper lip.
My long, unrequited crush on my best friend’s older brother has made dating a real challenge because I constantly find myself wondering what could have been if he had felt anything other than animosity for me. As pathetic as it is, I think I would happily drop to my knees and start bobbing Jack’s apple if he showed me even the slightest bit of interest.
I don’t know his number so it’ll have to be a house call. Given the bar has long since closed, it also means I have to wake him from a dead sleep to ask if he’s heard from his sister.
Jack didn’t believe me in high school when I started blabbing about seeing a ghost in their house and something being really suspicious about the tree in their backyard. Even after it turned out there really was a skeleton under the tree, Jack was quick to dismiss the entire experience as either a hoax or a coincidence. After years without another experience I had begun to write the whole thing off as a fluke myself.
By the time I’m sitting in my beat up Civic, drumming my fingers on the wheel, my anxiety is really starting to ramp up. I know Jack is going to be pissed when I show up at his place and I can already picture the look of disbelief and anger when I tell him I saw his sister floating in my bedroom.
I rack my brain trying to come up with any plan that doesn’t involve knocking on Jack’s door but I come up short. Jess only had a few friends, we kept our group small in high school and with the crazy cost of living here most of our old friends have flown the coop. All roads lead back to Jack. He’s the only one who might possibly believe me and I have to think that if he knows I’m genuinely worried for his sister he’ll step up and help me search for her.
Except, the last time I saw Jack was at the grand opening of his bar and the last words out of his mouth had been, “You aren’t welcome here.”
Great. Just great.