Ghosts (A Christian Yelich Story)

Chapter Forty-Seven: Ghosts

This is my favorite chapter so far; it's also the titular chapter. Thanks for reading.

***

"Why are we watching the Golden Globes?" my brother, Cameron, whined. "There's a Lakers game on."

"He's still pining over his long lost love . . . who rejected him twice," Collin remarked. His comment led me to elbow him in his side. Hard.

"I'm just curious if she's going to win." I shrugged and tried to come off as only vaguely interested. In reality, I wanted to see her in her dress. I also wanted to see who she brought as a date. I'm sure she brought someone. No one went to these things alone.

When she left the party a week ago, I told myself I was done. That I'd stop yearning for her and put our brief and unrestrained relationship behind me, but I couldn't. I thought about her constantly. The way she touched me, the way she played with her hair when she was nervous, the way she smirked a little when you made a dumb joke at her expense . . .

"What category is she nominated in?" Collin asked, disrupting my thoughts.

"Uh, um, best supporting actress in a drama? Something like that."

"Oh, yeah, for that insanely sad movie we saw. That was a fucking bummer, man," Cameron mumbled.

"Yeah, but it was great, and Annie was incredible in it," Collin added. "I hope she wins."

I sighed. "I hope she wins too. And I hope it makes her happy. She deserves to be happy."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, bro. I think she missed out on something good." Collin was always the most empathetic of the three of us. Cameron just rolled his eyes.

When her category was announced about an hour into the ceremony, my stomach started to churn. When her name was stated as a nominee, the camera panned to her, and she gave the camera an awkward, shy smile. It was perfect; she was perfect.

She was sitting next to a man, but I didn't know who he was. I just knew it wasn't Asher or James, and that made me feel a little reprieve. At least they're not better than me.

When she was proclaimed as the winner, Collin hollered and clapped. Cameron asked if we could "turn this garbage off now," and I watched the television with a scowl as she hugged her date. The hug seemed platonic, but maybe I was just telling myself that to feel better. Who knows? She looked surprised and happy, though. That was something.

I listened as she thanked the producers, director, and the cast and crew of Minnetonka. She then thanked her fellow nominees and informed the audience that she was lucky to be included with such a talented list of actresses. She didn't sound nervous at all – cool and collected. She was ready for this moment. I wondered what would change for her now that she won a big award. I didn't know how Hollywood worked.

She thanked her friends and family last and called out her brother, Zach, for joining her as her date, and her friend, Hannah, for making her life easier. So it's her brother. My relief was obvious. My mood was instantly lighter. Sure, she wasn't mine, but she wasn't anyone else's either. That was something.

"Dude, you gotta get over her," Collin said.

"I know," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. "But how?"

"Find someone new. That publicist of hers is pretty hot."

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the side. Again.

A couple of hours later, while I was desperately seeking sleep, my phone dinged and a simple message appeared on my screen; it was a message I had been hoping for every night since New Year's Eve.

Annie: I miss you. I wish you were here with me.

***

"Good morning, sunshine," Hannah declared as she walked into my room and opened my blinds.

"No, no, no. I can't handle the light." I shielded my face from the brightness. "I drank too much last night."

"You drank way too much last night!" Hannah validated, her voice a bit too excited. "But you had fun, right?"

"I did," I admitted. "But I don't remember some of it. Did I do anything too stupid at any point?"

"Not at all. You were just really friendly with everyone; people love you. But you have to wake up. You have auditions this afternoon."

"Can we cancel them?" I asked her. "Or reschedule them at a time when light doesn't hurt me?"

Hannah laughed before giving me a stern, "No."

I sighed and literally rolled out of bed and onto the floor. "Fine. I'm going to shower."

"Before you do that, how does it feel to be Annie Delaney, Golden Globes Winner and media darling?"

"Honestly, I think I'm going to be sick," and, with that, I ran to the bathroom to allow my body to reject all the sugary poison I consumed last evening.

I rarely drank, so having a hangover wasn't a regular occurrence for me. I was not someone who was particularly good at being sick, so I avoided most opportunities that might lead me down this path. "Fuck," I muttered out loud as I finished up. I hugged the toilet and laid my head on the seat in an attempt to regain some strength.

After I finished brushing my teeth and showering, I decided to check my phone to ensure I didn't send any regrettable messages while my brain was on an alcohol-induced vacation.

I sat down on my bed and opened up my texts. My heart dropped when I read one of the conversations I had initiated late last night. Drunk Annie was objectively the worst brand of Annie.

Annie: I miss you. I wish you were here with me.

"Goddamnit, Annie, you ignorant slut," I muttered under my breath. Why was I so self-sabotaging?

Christian: Where are you? Are you okay?

Annie: Some awards show after party. I think I'm at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Who knows, though?

Christian: Are you drunk, baby?

Annie: I'm so, so drunk, Christian. Remember when we drank at lunch with your trainer while we were still in England? Like that, but plus eight shots. Maybe ten. I think I might die later. RIP me.

Christian: If you knew for sure where you are, I could come get you? Could you ask someone?

Annie: Hannah says I have to "talk to the people." I always have to talk to the people.

Christian: I know that feeling all too well. You looked beautiful tonight, by the way.

Annie: You watched?

Christian: Yeah, of course I watched. I'm so proud of you.

Annie: My speech was dumb.

Christian: No, it was short and sweet. I loved it. I love you.

Annie: I'm sorry we can't be together.

Christian: Why can't we be?

Annie: Just too many ghosts, you know?

Christian: What does that mean?

Christian: Annie?

Christian: Fuck, Annie.

Christian: Talk to me. Please.

Annie: 👻

And that's how my brilliant, drunk mind ended an emotionally taxing conversation. With a ghost emoji.

I'm such an asshole. A horrible, manipulative, hungover asshole.