8. Callum Maslow

Chapter 8

Callum Maslow

N ow that everyone was asleep, the house was quiet.

What kind of house did I grow up in? Somewhere noisy, where we all laughed and made fun of each other like these brothers?

Or was I an only child? Something told me my house was calmer, that I had more time to myself so I could focus on drawing and painting. My upbringing probably wasn’t as loud or as chaotic as Sekani, River and Waylin’s.

I was dying. It wasn’t as if it really mattered if I had siblings, or how I grew up. Would something change once I was officially dead?

Since I was already a ghost, what would happen next?

More importantly, why couldn’t I just sink into my body, now that I knew where it was? Why couldn’t I just wake up ?

Maybe I had to remember more about myself—like if I had a brother or sister, or if my house was loud and busy—before I could.

Sekani hadn’t had a chance to look through my phone yet, not with the pair of us running after Isla. My case file probably wasn’t going to shed any light on who I was. It was pitifully empty.

Maybe I should be at the hospital right now, spending whatever time I had left around my mother. But would going to sit with her, watching my body die, be giving up on myself?

“I can hear you thinking from the far side of the living room,” Sekani said.

“N-No you can’t.” He couldn’t read ghosts’ minds, could he?

“Are you sure?”

I frowned at him; actually, I wasn’t.

Was it one of his gifts? How much could he tell about ghosts? About me?

Sekani laughed. “I can’t, just for the record. But your energy is uncomfortable as hell. What has you distressed?” He popped up off the floor. Isla had been given the bed—he was camped out in the living room with River and Waylin.

His gray sweatpants were slung low on his hips as he walked over to where I was sitting on the floor.

I was distressed about a lot of things. I put my sketchbook and pencil down, not even sure where to start.

“I just feel like I have a ticking clock over my head.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “And once I’m really dead, why would knowing who I am even matter?”

Right now it seemed important—like the key to unlock something—but if I died, who cared? I’d be dead—pull curtains. The End.

“Knowing who you are might make it easier to pass through. But I’m going to do my best to make sure your door isn’t even an option for another sixty or so years,” Sekani said as he sat beside me.

I looked over at him. “It’s not fair,” I whispered.

My eyes burned and I reached up, rubbing at the sockets. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of Sekani, but I was in a coma because some dickhead decided to drink and drive.

“I thought it could have at least been something cooler—a murder mystery or something. But being hit by some drunk sounds lame.”

“I think there might be more to it than that, Callum. If you were just run over, you wouldn’t be tethered here like this. Something happened that night that isn’t in the file—something only you know. But the accident scrambled your brain, so the thing keeping you stuck is the very thing you can’t recall.”

Sekani dropped his arm over my shoulder; I leaned into him.

“What could have happened that would make me want to stick around?”

“Only you can tell me. How about we look through your phone for some clues? Neither of us is gonna be getting any sleep.”

“If there’s anything embarrassing in there, it’s not my fault.” I said.

“It’s your phone,” Sekani countered, but he got it from his jacket pocket and brought it back. The lock was already off. Either I had no fears about people taking my things or my mom took it off already.

I could feel the heat wafting off Sekani as I pressed against his side. He lifted his arm and I tucked myself against his ribcage. It was nice, being touched—even like this.

“Where do we look first?” I asked as Sekani flicked through the screens. I had all the popular social media apps, a banking app, some random games, other miscellaneous apps everyone seemed to have.

“Recent calls, text, email, social media, dating apps.” Sekani said.

He went into my text messages first. There were a few people pinned to the top and then a list of names and numbers.

“Your mom mentioned Luke was your best friend.” Sekani tapped the picture of a smiling guy with black hair who was listed as Loser Luke.

Only a best friend would save their best friend’s contact like that.

Loser Luke:

Okay. Let’s talk about it

So you’re going to ignore me now?

Callum, don’t be childish

Callum?

I can’t believe you would do this. It’s not cool

“Trouble in paradise. On the same night you got run over, no less.” Sekani said.

“Maybe I’m stuck because I want to make things right between Luke and me.”

Sekani scrolled through the conversation.

It seemed disjointed, as if there were calls between the text messages.

Loser Luke:

You act like everyone is supposed to worship the ground you walk on

You’re not that good

Callum:

Fuck you. You’re a POS

Those seemed to be the three messages that kicked things off. From there it was petty name calling back and forth for a few days, and then me saying something wasn’t cool.

“Damn,” I groaned as I rubbed my face. “Who am I to actually have phone calls?”

Most people lived life via text. Why wasn’t it all here?

“Maybe the conversation got so heated that texting wasn’t doing it anymore.” Sekani closed Luke’s message thread and started to sift through another. “I need to meet with Luke.”

“You can give him a call.” It wasn’t as if either of us knew where he was going to be otherwise. It was late though. Was now the time?

Sekani didn’t seem to care—he hit the call button, putting it on speaker.

“C-Callum?” an unsure voice, a male voice, answered.

“No. I’m sorry, this isn’t Callum. Is this Luke?” Sekani asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m a friend of the Maslow family. I’m investigating Callum’s accident in conjunction with another matter I believe you could help me with. Clare Maslow said you’re Callum’s best friend? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee sometime this week—after three, preferably.”

“The police said Callum’s case was closed.” I could hear the frown in Luke’s voice. Why didn’t he sound happy that my case was still open? “It was a hit and run.”

“So I’ve been told. I, however, don’t work for the police. As I said, I’m investigating another matter in conjunction with that case and I believe you can be of assistance. Let’s meet for coffee on Thursday at four. The little place at the corner of Meadowlark and Rosewell.”

Luke sighed. “I guess, if you think it’ll help. What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t. See you on Thursday at four, Luke. Don’t be late.” Sekani hung up.

I looked at him, wondering if his detective skills had picked up on anything in that short conversation. This wasn’t a movie, though. He couldn’t just guess if Luke was hiding something from a phone call.

Sekani was looking through my phone again. He had opened my emails and was hunting through them. I looked as well, hoping something would trigger a memory. “You’re in college—a top rated art program, it looks like.”

“I guess I’m even better than I thought,” I said.

“I’m not surprised.” Sekani smiled at me; I smiled back. He really was handsome. And sitting so close to him made me feel . . . a complicated mix of emotions I didn’t want to look at too closely.

“Looks like you emailed your professor a few days prior, for a meeting. The meeting was set for—” he checked the email “—an hour after you got hit. You must have been on your way to see her.”

What was I going to see her for?

“The plot thickens,” I muttered.

Sekani tugged my hair and I laughed. He grinned down at me. “We’re getting somewhere now at least. It’s like a game of Clue.”

“I always liked that game,” I muttered, smiling. “Does that count as remembering something? I’m an art student who likes Clue.” I don’t know where that got us but I was happy to know one more thing about myself.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got it somewhere around here. Up for a round?

I chewed my bottom lip and drew my knees up to my chest. “Maybe in a minute.” Sekani’s arm was still around my shoulder, his body heat warming me. “Can . . . can we just sit like this for a minute?”

He tucked my phone into his pocket and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Come here. I’ll cuddle you for a while.”

My gaze jumped to his face. “Really?”

“Yeah. Come on before I change my mind.”

I tossed my leg over his thighs and fell against his chest. His arms wrapped around my back as I buried my face in his neck. He was warm and smelled like the cheap coffee he preferred, but there was something else too—a burning kind of herb.

“We will figure this out, Callum. I promise.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and soaked up his warmth. “Thank you, Sekani—for everything.”

My first impressions of him were all wrong. He could have kept ignoring me, probably could have forced me through a door not my own instead of helping me, but actually . . . he was a nice person. Maybe after I was back in my body we could get that coffee.

I hoped so, anyway.