Ghost Girl
John Michael Zorko
The woman was
found on a deserted beach at 4am, bleeding from a hole in her arm; a burnt spoon and a used syringe at her side. A homeless woman, no less; a haggard, fallen-through-the-cracks-long-ago into a neverworld, neverminded. She was taken to the closest hospital, where she lay on a bed with rails (as if her addiction wasn’t prison enough), a plastic strap on her wrist, eyes closed as fluids dripped from above, fed her. A slow beep and a jagged line played like a sad violin to the beating of her heart.
A faint knock sounded on the window of her hospital room. A knock, twelve stories up, where knocks do not go, and a small set of eyes, perched atop a tiny nose and a tiny mouth, framed by a tiny face, at once young yet somehow colored with the experience of many years, peered in.
The woman had had a hard life. A troubled childhood, a divided home, the urgency of youth and decisions far too hasty for her own good. An unexpected expulsion from her home, the result of an unwanted advance that led to an unplanned pregnancy, put her out into the world rudely. Though she hated him for what he had done, she carried the baby –first inside of her, then outside. Things changed then. She was joy, this child, She gave the woman purpose, she loved unconditionally. When the baby cried, the woman rushed to comfort her. When the baby laughed, the world dripped with the color of the brightest paint, and smelled sweeter than the sweetest flower. Baby grew into little girl, and the happiness she gave the woman was only equalled by the sadness when she was taken away. A six-year-old heart stopped in its tracks by the destiny of a bullet, fired in anger, meant for someone else.
“I cried every time the needle entered your vein.”
A downward spiral of despair followed, and the woman never stopped crying. God damn it, it never stopped. Give it to me damn it, put it in, make it go away if only for a little while and the color drained from the world. The aroma faded from every flower. Job after job, all lost. Places to stay came and went –apartments turned into alleys. oh fuck it hurts, god damn it hurts... give me something anything The years took their toll as mercilessly as the needle.
A small hand ran across the rail of the hospital bed, then touched the arm of the woman. She stirred, opened her eyes. Something small and frail stood next to her. The IV continued to drip from above, and as the blurriness faded, she saw the small face, the streaks of black hair, the eyes that took her in, now sunken, yet still with a remnant of that brightness which moved the woman so many years before. And though the color had drained from the little girl, and though she no longer smelled of flowers, the woman recongized her instantly.
“You’re my –” a small hand stilled her lips, a cold yet soft touch.
“I’m your ghost girl. Nothing more.”
With that, the walls disappeared, replaced by the wonder of a full moon and the beauty of the world it illuminated. And the woman and the girl glided aloft, the winds swept over them and the girl held the hand of the woman as they flew.
“I’m the shadow in the corner,” she said softly. “I’m the flash of light, just outside of your peripheral vision. I’m the little voice that you tried so hard to escape from. I’m the feeling of disappointment when the point touched your skin, and I cried every time the needle entered your vein.”
“You’re my ghost girl. You’ve never left my mind.” the woman said. “You made me so happy, yet the memories of you haunted me so. A piece of me died when you did, and I took it upon myself to kill the rest of me to be free of it. You meant so god damn much to me, I put my whole value as a person into you. You filled me like nothing before. You made everything worth it.”
An angry look crossed the face of the girl. “No, you made everything worth it. For me. Didn’t you see that? Didn’t you listen to me before you put the needle in? Didn’t you hear me scream ‘No!’? Didn’t you hear me cry afterwards? Why didn’t you listen? Why did you try so hard to shut me up inside you? Why did you defile yourself – you that I loved, you that made my world – to escape the only gift I could give you, the memories of me? Why? Do you have any idea how much I cried? Heaven fucking wept! Did you know that? Damn you!” screamed the girl as a sullen look forward the woman’s face, and sat there. Long seconds passed, silence.
“I know,” said the woman. “I’m so sorry. I loved you so – I couldn’t bear life without you. Please,” begged the woman, as a sadness of a magnitude she had never known swallowed her. “Forgive me.”
The ghost girl looked away, and then looked back. “I understand,” she said, as she guided the woman towards the ocean.
“I’ve always loved the ocean,” the woman said. “Ever since I was a girl.”
“I know. I’m bringing you back here because of that, to make it a bit better. I have to let you go. This is how it must end. You’ve paid the price for your mistakes, there is only one toll left. You have to fall. You have to hit the water and let it all go. You have to let that spark within you be extinguished, only then will you –and I– be free.”
The woman wept as the sandess enveloped her even more, a sadness no drug could ever alleviate to any degree.
“But know this,” said the girl. “I loved you then, I love you now, and I forgive you. I could not have wished for a better mother, a better person to bring me into the world. I cherish every moment, however few, that we shared together.” Mother and daughter embraced one last time, and tears flowed. They held each other tightly for moments that both seemed like forever, yet passed all too quickly.
And then they let go, and the woman fell. In her hospital bed, the beep ended its music, the jagged line now flat. Through the window, a shooting star burned brightly for one last moment before plummeting into the sea.
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