It was all so quiet. That used to panic Dave. Once he had needed strong lyrics with stronger words and themes. But three years alone change a person. He hadn’t repaired the ache he felt at losing Jerrod but built around it, keeping the hole ragged but there. He needed quiet for that.

His pockets always held remnants of their time together. He pulled out a small doll of cheap black cloth. Once it had white thread features, but after so much touching and rubbing and the occasional bit of salty tear the face had worn smooth. Six years ago it had been an impulse gift, just one among many that beautiful Jerrod was always bringing him.

A finger caressed the edges of the small body. The touch brought back that weekend spent with Jerrod in New Orleans, making love in small puddles in the park at night. Then, still muddy, they sat down and pretended everything was calm while sipping chicory coffee at Cafe Dumonde until dawn.

His insides were churning, acid brewing. He looked up and scanned the beach for anything pale. Without moonlight he’d have to watch carefully or risk missing his boy.

One night not long ago, he told everything to this girl next to him at a crappy bar. Somewhere in the shadows early Goth music that no one listened to anymore played. Siouxsie and the Banshees moaned because few cared.

The girl just nodded, her dyed-black bangs falling over a surgically-aligned nose.

Maybe an annual rendezvous with a ghost was nothing new to her. Maybe it wasn’t. With her manufactured features she didn’t look quite human anymore.

“Why not kill yourself? Just wade into the water? Then you could be with him always.”

Dave shook his head a few times, the fourth shot of vodka affecting his base movements. “No, doesn’t work like that. I’d just float out to sea and be left alone. Trust me on this, I’ve asked around.” The last was a lie to shut her up; he was just guessing. Truth was, he was afraid.

She undid the clasps on the black metal lunchbox she apparently used as a purse, reaching in for a clunky vial and small paintbrush. “Silver nitrate,” she whispered as she painted her mouth. “Burns like hell, but stains the lips.” Her half-smile glistened sickly with an odd shade, almost gunmetal gray.

He just stared at the shot glass.

Dave leapt down to the sand dune below, ignoring the sign that threatened a thousand dollar fine for walking over the dunes. He tread over the brown grass, leaving fresh impressions in the sand behind him. Some nights he ached so fiercely for Jerrod that every muscle along his spine would lock and he’d be left crying on the tub floor while scalding water from the showerhead would ease his back.

The wind teased with half-uttered words that almost sounded like his name. But Jerrod’s ghost never spoke. He would have begged to have heard that soft voice again. Even only a sigh or those wonderful little groans that twisted Jerrod’s face during passion.

Hands stuffed in his coat pockets to keep them warm, he started pacing up and down the shore. HeÕd stay all night if he had too, maybe sleep under the boardwalk; he had done that once before.

His boy always appeared from the corner of the eye. One moment the shoreline was clear, and then a glimpse.

Jerrod waited there, just at the waterline’s edge, dressed in whatever Dave wanted him to wear that night. Yesterday, he had seen some boy walking through the city streets in a long coat and so that’s what he saw again tonight: the ends flapping in the wind, the collar turned up to protect that smooth neck. Jerrod’s black hair caught every gust and was almost lost against the sky.

Dave ran to him like he did every time, worried that he might not reach him before Jerrod disappeared – as had happened the first time. Too much cheap red wine at dinner. Dave nearly collapsed on the beach, while his boyfriend teased him with a midnight swim. By the time Dave realized he could not see Jerrod in the water, it was too late. He was left alone.

They embraced immediately. Alone on the beach, he pressed close, eager to share his warmth. A small rivulet of water slipped from Jerrod’s mouth and down his chin. Dave licked it before a drop could fall. His mouth filled with the savory nature of his late boyfriend. Salty. He tasted like the sea.