When I started out there had been a few carriages, a few coaches that ran from town to town.Ā But not much more.Ā In those days perching atop the piles of luggage for the length of my town had been interesting but ultimately unsatisfying.Ā I wanted to go further, see more, do more.Ā Ā
But each time at the limit of the town, in the middle of the dust track Iād find myself settled on the ground watching the vehicle move on without me.Ā Ā
Sometimes it struck me how much a metaphor that was.Ā But only later.Ā
First my parents had died and for a brief moment over their beds Iād catch their hands as they cried out once, briefly, in joy.Ā Clutching at me just before they went⦠elsewhere.Ā I couldnāt see where or which direction, just one second theyād finally see me again and the next.
Then my brother.Ā He didnāt know who I was, itād been too long by then I think he forgot Iād ever been alive.Ā An old man stood before me for a second, bewildered, then vanished.Ā Ā
After that it got faster.Ā Like bright lights the lives of the town flickered and vanished.Ā New people born, grown and vanished while I stood next to them and watched them go.. elsewhere.
The town grew. The rides on the carriages lasted longer. The first horseless one scared me into laughter, the realization that as a ghost I had a sudden rush of fear of⦠what, exactly? But I hooked myself up and into the empty seats, onto back bumpers, even a few times the hood with an insubstantial hand wrapped around the figureheads.
The town skipped forward faster, larger, more alien each year.Ā Eventually it was a city big enough I could not walk from one end to the other anymore.Ā My range increased in size but not in limit.Ā Once a decade or so I stood at the edge, looking out, leaning against a wall that only existed for me.
And now I rode buses.Ā Trains.Ā Cabs.Ā Cars.Ā Trucks.Ā Iād even managed a motorcycle once.Ā And while none could see me I could tell they knew I was there in some way.Ā Which is why I was careful to only take empty spaces.
That is until they started putting in sensors.Ā Ā
I read a lot at the library.Ā Luckily Iād been one of the few boys in my town, when I was alive, taught to read.Ā But it helped to keep up. Sort of.
The first time a car beeped about me sitting in the passenger seat Iād been so surprised.Ā The driver, a young woman, kept glancing at the seat almost as if she could see me.Ā But she only frowned and finally pulled over to buckle the seatbelt together.Ā Hoping, and succeeding, at shutting up the alarm.
Cars became something a little more infrequent.Ā It made getting around a little more complicated, but not much.Ā There were still so many ways to ride, just none as personable as inside, listening to their music and conversations over their phones.
But I never could imagine what it would be like to leave.
Until the day, bored and tired of the museums, I jumped into an old battered car.Ā Sitting next to the young man who sniffled slightly from behind his glasses.Ā He was cute, in a way, but in a distracted and gentle kind of way.Ā Dark hair, wet from the rain.Ā Face closed in around someĀ sort of pain or maybe grief.Ā His car was filled with the debris of a life wrecked upon some sort of tragedy.Ā I immediately felt bad for him and the whining of the alarm I caused, sitting there.Ā
If I could have, I would have put on the belt.Ā Instead I sat there as the squealing sound persisted much longer than I expected.
He kept flinching at it.Ā Finally he sobbed once before pulling over.
āGranpa? You said youād ⦠Iām talking to a ca⦠Ok, look.Ā If thatās you, Granpa, Iām sorry I didnāt make it to the funeral.ā
He sat in the intermittent silence of the alarm, parked next to the slick and empty sidewalk in a part of town even I knew wasnāt exactly the safest.
I almost missed his next words.
āI tried. I did. But the scholarship ran out, trying to take care of .. your daughter, working three jobs and ⦠Tommy.ā His voice lowered,Ā āTommy left me.ā
He shut off the car and put his head on the steeringwheel.Ā
āI know you didnāt like that I was dating him.Ā But he was a good guy, Granpa. You really shouldāve..Ā Well I just wish you couldāve seen him like I did.Ā Before⦠before.ā
He turned and laughed at me, or rather where he thought his grandfather was.
āBefore he turned into an ass, actually.ā
He leaned awkwardly on his hands against the steeringwheel.Ā
āI thought I almost loved him as much as I did you.Ā Iām so.. so sorry, Granpa.Ā I really am.Ā I tried.Ā I tried to be there, to do my best.Ā I did. But. It. It just went to shit.ā
With that he finally broke down.
An old man leaned forward from the back seat, startling me as he chuckled.Ā Ā
āItās ok, Mark.ā patting the man.
āYep. Bit busy right now, young man so excuse me a moment?ā
He kept patting Mark on the shoulder.
āItās ok, son.Ā I know.Ā I do. I did. And I just thought.. well, to be honest after I got over it, I thought Tommy was a shit.Ā Frankly he was never good enough for you.ā
The voice was small.Ā My eyes, Iām sure, were huge.Ā They were talking?Ā They were talking!
āI love you.Ā I knew you loved me.Ā Never forget that, ok?ā
I kept shifting from one to the other, shocked.Ā Never in a my very long afterlife had I seen ghost and living talk.Ā And yet as if it was perfectly normal, here they were.Ā Ā
āMark? Son? Iāve got to go.ā
āI know.ā he said in the smallest voice yet.
āBut. Before I go? I want you to do me a favour, ok?ā
āThat alarm wasnāt me. Itās a different⦠person.Ā He looks a little lost.Ā Do you think you could take him for a drive through the city?Ā Maybe show him your place? He looks like he could use a conversation or two.ā
The old man smiled at me and winked.Ā And of all things? Gave me a thumbs up.
Mark lifted his head.Ā Ā āWhatās your name?ā
The silence stretched out. I donāt think Iād said a word in about thirty years at that point.Ā It took a second or five for me to remember how.
Mark nodded once.Ā āHey, Todd.ā
The old man silently blew out a sigh, seeming to relax.Ā Ā āI need a moment with the young man, donāt go anywhere.Ā I donāt have much time, Mark.Ā So remember.Ā I love you.ā
āI love you, Granpa.ā
Outside his jagged crying wasnāt audible over the rain.
āI really donāt have any time.Ā But.Ā Things to know.Ā Mark can hear us, it runs in the family.Ā Heās gonna need a friend.Ā And if youāre hanging around taking joy rides in cars I suspect you probably could use a friend.Ā So, I hope youāre not the ghost of some axe murderer or something-ā
ā-but maybe stick around for a bit and keep him company?Ā Heās a good kid.Ā With a shitty run of luck.ā
He held out a hand to shake mine.Ā He got out a quietĀ āOh, well. Shit.ā before he vanished.Ā
For a minute I stood there.Ā Wondering what to do.Ā Then the car started and Mark said something in the car, I could see his mouth move but not hear the words.
I slid back into the passenger seat, apologizing.
Silence. A deep sigh as he put the car into gear and eased back into traffic.Ā The alarm going for one brief shriek before he thumped the dash and it went quiet.
āOk. So. Where can I give you a lift to, tonight?ā