TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE
"Kinsey, please don't hate Steve anymore. He didn't mean to hurt me, and I came back home, and I forgave him, and I love him...and when everyone hates him, and he's hurt and sad about that, it's like it hurts me, too...and...and...I love him," Ghost whispered the last part, and looked so sad with his pleading, his face tear streaked, that Kinsey's heart went out to him.
"Ghost, I know you love Steve. I hated what he did, but I don't hate him. I know I've been hard on him, and maybe unreasonable, but I just couldn't have him around me, reminding me...so...I guess if you can forgive him, then I can try."
He hugged Ghost. "Y'all come over to the club when you're ready. It'll be cool with me, and I'll pass the word along that everything is worked out with you two, and just let it be."
Ghost nodded, "Can we play our music there again?"
"Yeah, that'd be good. I missed the music, and all the kids ask for y'all," Kinsey said. "Ghost, there's something else I need to talk to you about. I don't know what all went on with you while you were gone, and it's none of my business, but you did call me that time. I was really worried about you. Then, I got this in the mail a few days later. I don't know what it means, but I have a bad feeling about it."
He pulled out the flyers, and showed Ghost. Ghost looked at them and frowned. "You got these in the mail?"
"Yeah, I know this is the one Steve had made and put up everywhere he went, looking for you. This other one..." Kinsey tapped the flyer of Ghost and Maxy's band with the note written on it. "Is this the guy you were singing with?"
"Yeah..." said Ghost. "For a while...but, it didn't work out so good."
"Were you and this Maxy together...in a relationship?" Kinsey tentatively asked.
Ghost paused a minute, remembering his time with Maxy. "Kinsey, I thought I was in love with him. It was good at first, but then, I don't know...he got too controlling. I...I...knew it was over before I could actually leave. He took advantage of me, used me, and hurt me. I finally escaped. I just left, and came back here."
"What do you make of this note he wrote? Do you think he'll come looking for you?" Kinsey asked
Ghost shrugged, "I don't know, I hope not. Guess if he does, Steve will kick his ass...and Steve hits way harder than Maxy does...oh, shit...did I just say that?" He leaned over with his hands over his face, his pale hair streaming down, and sobbed.
Kinsey was startled by Ghost's reaction, and by what Ghost had said. "This poor kid has been through hell," he thought. He rubbed Ghost's back, as he tried to comfort him. "It'll be ok...just let it all out. I'm here if you need me, and I'm sure Steve is, too," and he meant it.
After making sure Ghost would be ok, Kinsey left. Ghost was left with his thoughts, so he tried to write them in his journal, and his lyric book. Writing always had a calming effect on him. It always helped him focus. He wasn't much of a drinker...an occasional beer, and he did like his Scuppernong wine. He and Steve smoked weed, when they had it, but he always had his notebooks to write in...and the walls.
He'd added new entries to his wall already. It was an obsession. Steve always liked to read what he wrote. Sometimes he was a little embarrassed to let anyone see, but mostly, he didn't mind. After writing awhile, he fell asleep on the couch, notebook open across his chest, markers, minus their tops, scattered around.
That's where Steve found him when he came in. "Typical of Ghost," he thought. "Hey, wake up," Steve shook Ghost. "I'm home."
Ghost startled awake, then stretched, and smiled. "Hey, how did it go today?"
"It went good...I didn't blow up at anyone, didn't cuss at anyone, and it did feel good to get back to work."
They ate the potato soup Ghost had made; he told Steve he'd wanted some for so long...and it was good. Steve sensed Ghost wanted to talk about something, but didn't push him. He'd talk when he was ready.
"Ya wanna beer, Steve?" asked Ghost, as he grabbed his bottle of wine.
"Yeah, but let's go out back for awhile...Terry gave me some smoke."
Back behind the house, in the woods, was the old Civil War graveyard. They'd spent many times out here, in the past. Smoking weed, drinking, and Ghost talking to the spooks, long dead. They'd been coming out here since they were kids, to sneak away from Ghost's grandmother. They'd pretend they were explorers, or Civil war heroes, or just to talk about secrets that were too powerful to speak of in the light of day.
They knew every inch of the old graveyard, and all it's markers. Ghost swore he could hear the souls of the moldering corpses talk to him. Scared the crap out of Steve when Ghost started in, and of course Ghost would jazz it up in a spooky voice, when he told Steve what his visions were. He had no reason to doubt. He'd seen Ghost in action when he sensed something, predicted something, and had outlandish dreams that actually did come true.
They leaned against a couple of crumbly gravestones, sipping their drinks, and passing the joint to each other...just relaxing. It was getting dark, and the moon hadn't risen yet. Ghost's face and hair lit up like an orb, floating alone, whenever he'd toke on the joint. Pretty eerie, Steve thought...and he wondered when the spooky stories would start.
But, when Ghost begain speaking, it wasn't about the past of long dead soldiers. It was about the future...his and Steve's future.
Next installment coming soon!
Peace, Love, & Writing