Chapter 5 Collins #3
My dad nodded. “Have you seen Earnest yet?” Earnest was a permanent Toades resident.
His anchor object was a large record console from the fifties.
It came to the shop when Clarke and I were probably seven or eight, and we loved it.
To us, it felt like when you opened the top, you were opening up a mini concert.
Earnest would sit with us while we listened to music, and sometimes he’d point to a record he wanted to hear.
He got more talkative with time. We would run through the front door at Toades after school to tell him about our day.
He would show us stuff in the shop we’d never seen before.
We also taught him about the present. Our first lesson involved explaining and showing him what a Pop-Tart was. He was fascinated.
We got so attached that when someone wanted to buy the console, we threw a cataclysmic fit.
And it worked.
My parents didn’t sell the console. It was still the only way they played music at Toades.
Earnest was the reason we knew we couldn’t just see ghosts but could hear and communicate with them too.
He was why we knew that they weren’t tied to one form.
When we were kids, Earnest was a kid, and when we were teenagers, he was a teenager.
Earnest died when he was twenty-one. He’d lived in Sweetwater Peak his whole life. He died on his way up to the Sweetwater River. Someone ran him and his Buick off the road and into a tree.
“Poor Little Fool” by Ricky Nelson was playing on his radio.
Earnest was our friend, and he was a constant for our whole family. He moved my dad’s tools and played little jokes, and he always found a way to alert my mom if she tried to leave while the coffeepot was still plugged in.
He was the reason that I liked talking to the ghosts—why I got attached to them and the stories they told me.
Not being able to talk to him would break my heart. I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“That’s surprising,” Mom said. “I’m sure he’ll make himself known soon.” I nodded but stayed quiet after that.
—
After dinner, I decided to walk home with the basket of fruit that Clarke gave me. She couldn’t help but take care of me. It was equally annoying and endearing. I had expected her to bring up the developer—that was the whole reason I was here, after all. Well, at least, as far as she knew.
But I guess she wasn’t ready to broach the subject. It was surprising, really. Clarke didn’t really back down from a fight—even if that fight was with our parents.
Maybe she had her own shit going on, too.
The walk back to the apartment was less than ten minutes. It was unseasonably warm for this time of year at this elevation, so I couldn’t see my breath as I walked. It was actually pretty concerning when I thought about the big picture of the planet, but it was nice for right now.
There were no cars on the road. There wasn’t even any wind rustling through the trees.
It was dead silent. I couldn’t remember a time when the streetlights actually worked, so all I had to light my way was the moonlight.
The shadows around me felt familiar, but I felt different.
In the dark, the hollowness in my chest felt more pronounced—like if I tapped on my sternum, it would echo through the night.
God, why did I think coming back here would fix anything? I wasn’t like the ghosts. I didn’t have an anchor point that I could get closer to and feel more like myself. They could float with no consequences. I couldn’t. They didn’t need jobs or a place to live. They didn’t get stuck.
I did.
I was.
I am.
I’d thought coming back here might help, but all it had done so far was remind me how loud and heavy the silence was.
When a howl cut through the silence of the night, I picked up my pace. The hair stood on the back of my neck as I walked down the alley that led to the back entrance of Coop’s and the apartment.
Instead of going inside right away, I sat on the steps outside the back door. I brought my knees close to my chest and dropped my head to rest on them. I didn’t want to be here—not in Sweetwater Peak and not in this apartment that only reminded me of exactly what I’d lost.
But I didn’t want to be anywhere else either.
I didn’t want to explore the world anymore. I didn’t want to take pictures. I didn’t want to try and fix my life.
I didn’t want to do anything.
I wanted to exist in this dark void that I’d created for myself—where nothing could get to me. I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and then another.
There was another howl in the distance, and I lifted my head to look up at the full moon. Was I going to feel this way forever?
The door opened behind me, and light flooded from the opening.
“Oh,” Brady said, surprised. I turned my body halfway, so I could see him. He was carrying a black trash bag. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to…disturb you.”
“It’s fine,” I said, and scooted to one side so he could get around me. His steps were tentative as he did—like if he treaded too loudly or heavily, it might break me. It wasn’t out of the question.
I kept my gaze on the moon as Brady walked over to the dumpster and slung the trash in. When he started walking back toward the door, his steps slowed a little.
“A-are you…okay?” he asked.
I sniffled. “Yeah,” I said without looking his way. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. I could feel him thinking, wondering what to do with me. I almost told him that it was okay—that no one knew what to do with me.
“C-can I get you anything?” I shook my head. “Do you want to go inside?” I shook my head again and heard Brady sigh.
I finally pulled my eyes off the moon, and more tears fell when I blinked. Brady was right in front of me, wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of dark sweatpants. “You must be cold,” I said, and he shrugged. The concern in his eyes was clear.
“Are you okay, Collins?” he asked again softly. I liked the way he said my name—the way it looked when it rolled off his lips.
“No,” I said this time. After all, I was clearly crying in the moonlight—there was no use in lying to him.
Brady bit the inside of his cheek—again, wondering what to do with me. Leave me alone, I thought. I want to be alone.
“Do you want company?” Brady asked.
“No, I really don’t,” I said—quicker and harsher than I meant to, which was evident in the way Brady’s eyes widened, just a little.
He nodded slowly, then walked up the three steps and through the back door without saying anything. It shut with a firm click—leaving me in the silence and the dark.