A Ghost Encounter: My Time with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Part Seventy-Seven: Marching Forward

I had a terrible nightmare last night—one that woke me up in the middle of the night several times.

In the nightmare, Soap and I were swimming in a lake. At some point, something lurking beneath the water took hold of him and pulled him under.

When I tried to dive under, the water solidified and I couldn't break through. I had to watch Soap being dragged to the bottom of the lake and drown—over and over again.

Barely waking up, with a killer headache, I sit up on the couch. After rubbing my eyes, I look to where Ghost is supposed to be sleeping and find the spot is empty.

I look around the room and then spot him sitting at the kitchen table, staring at me.

3:55 AM

Jesus, it's early.

We make eye contact but say nothing. I mean, what is there to say?

"Another time," he said earlier.

If he doesn't want to talk I'm not going to force him to. I don't have the energy or the heart.

I rise from the couch, grab my things, and ready myself in the bathroom. After I finish, I return to the kitchen to find Ghost in the exact same spot that I left him in.

He's still staring.

"What?" I huff as I sit down at the table with him.

He scoffs.

"Ghost. Enough," I growl.

"Ghost?" He looks at me with hurt in his eyes. "You're calling me Ghost again?"

He's the one wearing the mask. What does he expect?

"I called you Simon yesterday and that did nothing for me," I deadpan, a child on my shoulder. "Besides, you're the one who is shunning me, pushing me away."

"I am not pushing you away," he counters defensively.

"Oh, no?" I chuckle in disbelief. "I thought we talked about this. I thought we agreed that we wouldn't shut each other out."

"I'm trying," he growls and slams his hand down on the table, hard.

"Are you?" I glare at him, pain lingering in my eyes.

He tenses and then looks down, but not before I can see the flash of guilt in his eyes.

We sit in the tension, silently, for about three minutes.

"You said another time, well, now is another time. Speak," I demand.

"And what would you like me to say, sweetheart?" He tilts his head, his condescension palpable.

"Anything. Everything. Just say something." I look to the side to avoid eye contact.

Ghost takes a deep breath, "I'm not happy with you."

"I can tell," I scoff. "You're not happy because I risked my life. You're not happy because I disobeyed Price. I already know these things." I pause to make direct eye contact with him now. "Tell me something I don't know. Tell me how you feel about Soap's last words."

Ghost's entire body tenses, a muscle in his jaw feathers, and his hands form into fists, the knuckles white with rage.

"I have nothing to say," he spits.

"Bullshit," I retort and mockingly say, "Don't be a scaredy cat now."

Shaking his head in annoyance, he responds, "I couldn't care less that you kissed him."