Towards the edge of a little lake in the center of a small valley is a lemon tree, the base of the trunk half submerged in the water yet still heavy and drooping with the weight of dozens of porous, yellow fruits. It's the season for lemons, truly, and the tree extends out over the water to soak up sun as it attempts to feed the lemons weighing it down like little children on each arm. And next to this lemon tree, swaying branches and shaking leaves like a severe gust of wind, leans a long and lanky young girl.
She hugs a branch with one arm as she reaches for a fruit bobbing in deep water in the gentle wake of passing ducks. She hadn't worn anything but a t-shirt and pants rolled up past her knees, and no dry clothes sit ashore, so she stands in the shallow water near dry land and stretches out until her fingers catch the lemon to pull it out of the water. It's slick and dripping, and she wears a look of concentration as she digs her nails into the top and bottom of the fruit for leverage and pulls herself back until she stands fully upright again, slightly out of breath. She examines the lemon with a wry smile, turning it over in one hand as the other clasps the tree, before meeting the gaze of a semi-translucent figure at the shore of the lake. The figure stands - no, floats, the feet hovering ever so slightly over the sand-and-dirt mixed ground as water gently laps at the space barely a foot in front of it. And it gazes back, something plaintive but curious in its watch.
After a brief moment, the girl breaks off her stare, tucks the fruit into a deep pants pocket, making a bulging lump, and wades her way to dry ground until she stands in front of the apparition. Up close, its colors are muted, almost like shadows under a night sky despite the blazing sun up above. It is a little boy, she thinks, or was, no older than twelve, and he stands (floats?) nearly a couple heads shorter than she. Not quite silvery or gray, but dim, and she can see the background blurred through him like she's looking through warped, colored glass.
After giving a small swallow, the girl clears her throat and says, "Hey there, um, kid. My name's Mandy. I saw you watching the tree, and I thought you might want a lemon. I just didn't know if you could," her eyes flick sideways and down to the water before dragging back up to the spirit boy, "reach it or not." Her hands moving in unconscious sign language to mirror her words betray her nerves, but the ghost boy hardly seems to notice, instead flashing an obvious smile and holding out his own palm, face up. It's such an utterly mischievous look that, when she pulls the lemon out of her pocket and drops it where his palm would be, Mandy is unsurprised to see the spirit boy doubled over in the silent laughter of a prankster having well executed their jest after the lemon falls through his hand to the ground with an unsatisfying thunk.
He straightens up as she squats, picking up the lemon again and brushing off the sand clinging to its still damp surface, and she stands back up to watch him mouth the word "Sorry", looking only vaguely repentant.
"Are you a ghost?" she blurts, lemon still in hand, and winces a moment later. "I mean, are you - were you - alive? Who are you? Why are you here? Can you speak?"
The ghost boy gives her a sullen look and slowly but surely shrugs his shoulders, then raises his hand to wave it through his own throat.
Mandy gives a small, self-conscious cough that turns briefly into a wheeze before saying, "I guess that's a no, then." She hesitates a moment, then digs her nails into the lemon rind and peels it open until only flesh and bits of pith remain. "Can you touch the inside of the fruit? Do you want one?" She pulls off a slice and pops it in her mouth, watching as his face turns from sullen to horrified, lips pursing and nose screwing up, and she gives a quick laugh as her nerves fade. "The lemons from this tree are sweet, I promise. And besides," she puts the lemon in one hand and draws out a small pouch of white sparkling sugar from a shorts pocket, "I came prepared in case it wasn't." As she chews, Mandy pulls apart another slice and holds it out for him.
With a doubtful look, he extends his hand out to take it, his fingers like murky water. And, to Mandy's disappointment, the ghost boy's hand falls through her own without taking hold of the peeled fruit. Dropping his arm back down to his side, he shrugs without surprise. With a thoughtful hmm, Mandy breaks the remaining fruit in half and places one half on a bit of lemon peel on a nearby rock along with the pouch of sugar. "Alright, I need to head out. It was nice to meet you!" Eating the slice she had pulled apart for him, sliding her feet into her abandoned shoes and absent-mindedly waving good-bye with her free hand, Mandy weaves her way away from the lake, heading, presumably, out of the valley. She looks back only once, to watch him as he stares at her with furrowed brows. As he catches her looking at him, he waves back, his faded arm catching the light.
And as she moves out of sight, the little spirit boy turns back to the lemon tree, staring wistfully at the treetop. After a brief moment, he hovers closer to the fruit sitting on the rock and reaches out again with a close to resigned sadness. But this time, as he reaches to grasp the fruit, he takes a hold of it with three small fingers and manages to lift it close to his face before he drops it in surprise. Floating quickly now, he moves after Mandy, opening his mouth as if to call out - but she's disappeared on some unknown path, and his throat makes no noise. Instead, he returns to the tree, hovering cross-legged next to the fruit as he picks it up again and stares at it with open mouthed wonder.
-
Towards the edge of a little lake in the center of a small valley is a lemon tree, branches still and leaves only slightly aflutter with each sigh of the wind. And at the bottom of the tree, toes hovering slightly above the lake water, floats a shadowy figure no older than twelve, staring with determined eyes and a flat-lipped scowl at a lemon hanging some branches above him. He reaches for the lowest limb with a steady hand, "pulling" himself onto it even as the branch remains unmoving and leaves don't crumple under his incorporeal fingers. He sits like this for a bit, twigs sticking through his torso and arms like mini swords, before floating and climbing his way up the tree to sit, intertwined with branches, next to his lemon. With a twinge of hope, he cups his hands around the yellow fruit and pretends to pull, but achieves nothing. Uselessly, he waves one hand through the lemon, only to have a burst of wind ripple through the leaves and gently sway it back and forth. And so he only sits, hugging his knees, and waits.
-
By the time Mandy returns, the ghost boy has watched two sunrises fly above the edge of one of the small mountains surrounding the lake. She emerges while the sun is high in the sky, running freely down the slightly sloping hill into the lake, holding a thick book under her arm. After a brief glance around, she sets the book down and pulls something out of her pants pocket, digging in the sandy dirt with the toe of her shoe. As the ghost boy watches from behind the branches of the lemon tree, Mandy drops the something into the hole, pushing dirt back over it and letting out a recognizable sigh.
Pulling off her tennis shoes and socks and rolling up the hems of her pants, she ignores the book and the dirt and wades into the lake, heading for the tree. As she approaches, the ghost boy swings himself down from the branch he sat on to gently float down to the lake until he drifts just above the water next to Mandy. Even submerged to her shins in the lake she still stands taller than the ghost boy, so he raises himself a little bit more until they're eye to eye. Mandy blinks slowly to see him there before shooting him a grin. "Oh, good, you're still here. I have something for you." She points a thumb back at the book. "Wanna see?"
The ghost boy glances at the shore before shaking his head and pointing at the lemon he had been sitting by.
Mandy lets out a burst of laughter. "Another lemon? Maybe if there's one floating around here somewhere - I don't want to pick one from the tree. See how it's partially in the lake? I don't know how it's still alive, but I would rather keep it that way. C'mon, let's go back for a second." She turns around, making her way back to the sandy dirt of the lakeshore. Reluctantly, he bobs forward after her, still stealing looks at the tree.
As he floats into shore, Mandy sits on a rock and holds up the book she brought, reading aloud, "'American Sign Language, a comprehensive guide.'" The ghost boy looks at the book, then back at Mandy, and then gives her a look so utterly exasperated she has to grin. "Look, it's not just going to be me flipping pages." She sets the book down again and starts signing along with her speech, "I sign at home with my mom, so I can teach you. We can start off with one you might really need to learn." Mandy circles her fist, fingers facing her body, over her chest once. "Sorry." Remembering the previous time they had met, the ghost boy looks away in embarrassment. Before he has a chance to respond, though, Mandy gives a hacking cough, covering her mouth with her elbow to muffle the choking sounds until it slows to a small wheeze. With a weak smile, she says, "Like there, I interrupted, so I would sign," she circles her fist again.
After a moment, the ghost boy repeats the gesture twice, and Mandy grins again and opens the book. "Perfect."
It takes almost until sunset for Mandy to decide it's time for her to leave, and as she stands up to go the ghost boy points at the lemon tree again. I want, he signs, and Mandy chuckles slowly. She walks over, examining the water under the tree - and sure enough, a lemon floats in the shallow water of the lake. In a pinch, she wades back in to grab the fruit, peeling it in her hand as she walks back to the ghost boy. "Alright, I assume that you can touch the fruit, then? I have to run, so I'll leave you to it, but I hope this works. I'll see you soon!"
Mandy sets the peeled lemon down on the same rock, waving goodbye and jogging back up out of the valley. He watches her leave before squatting down to pick up the lemon again and turning to the mound of dirt she had covered the something in that morning. Lifting the lemon just by its edge, he uses the fruit to brush away the dirt, pushing away bits of glass and paper until what Mandy had buried is exposed to the fading sun. As it comes into the light, the ghost boy sits back on his haunches and stares at it, an unsettling feeling pressing against his chest. A pile of at least eight pills, four white, a couple red, a blue, and a purple, sit amongst dirt and sand next to the rock. Hesitantly, he does his best to smooth the dirt back over the pile, but he's unsure why he's hiding it. Instead of sitting, though, lost in thought, the ghost boy throws the lemon into the lake, stands, and returns to his position in the lemon tree. And so he waits.
For the next couple weeks, Mandy returned nearly every day around noon. At least once a week, possibly more (but really, the ghost boy didn't bother counting), Mandy hid her pills somewhere in the vicinity of the lemon tree. Once, he watched as she tossed them into the lake, but her look of distaste for the activity made it clear she didn't want to do it again.
Up until about halfway through the lemon season, the lemons on the tree beginning to thin out, Mandy didn't say or sign a word about her activities. And so, as she sits on the rock she always leaves his lemon on, the ghost boy is caught by surprise as she signs Can I tell you a secret?. He mimics the word for secret, though, truth be told, he could recall its meaning.
"A hidden thing," she says aloud, "something few people know. Secret." The ghost boy nods, awaiting her following sentence with some dread. I'm dying, she signs, a small laugh escaping her mouth as she signs it. "Every day I wake up knowing I'm still alive when I shouldn't be. But honestly," her words switch to hand movements, I'm kind of looking forward to it.
The ghost boy leans back, hands still as he thinks of something to say. It's okay, he signs finally. I'm dead. I think. Mandy leans too, laying back until her head drapes over the edge of the rock and her hair brushes the dirt. "Ah, well, the dead and the dying. My mom says we'll go to see the ocean once it's all over, but I think we both know that's a lie. She's already let me do whatever I want, so I can't really have much time left. I'm supposed to be taking these meds to slow down the, I don't know, spread or something. Give me a few more months, I guess." She straightens up, staring off into the distance. "'Amanda', my mom tries to convince me, 'They'll save you'. That's not what the doctors say, that's for sure. I've been so eager to just get it over with that I've been - don't say I'm stupid, I know what I'm doing - just neglecting the meds." The boy signs Idiot anyway, not knowing what other words to say nor how to sign them.
Mandy stands up, giving another one of her lung-rattling hacks, and the ghost boy can hear the pain in each cough. As it clears, she glances back at him and says, "I used to think I'd go on an adventure, planned out this whole adventure Atlas to do it. But this is my own little adventure, you know? It's as exciting as anything I've ever done, that's for sure." She grins again, stretching. "Alright, that's enough of me. Secret for a secret, kid. Start off with your name, please."
The boy drifts to standing too. I don't know.
Mandy wades into the lake, struggling for a second before pulling herself onto the lowest branch and wincing with the effort. "You don't know? What do you mean, you don't know? What do you know?" He floats over to follow her, imitating the way she pulled herself up and hovering on the branch next to her. Nothing. Only the lake. He stares at the lemons. And the, his hands pause and he points. She signs and says, "Tree? Lemons? Lemon tree?" He nods. Lemon tree. Who? His shoulders shrug. I don't know. Why? I don't know. Mandy stares at him for a brief second before nodding back. "So, you need a name. What about?Larry?"
The ghost boy gives a vehement shake of his head, looking somewhat disgruntled, and Mandy gives out an uncharacteristic snort. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with Larry. I know a perfectly nice Larry. Alright, fine. Josh? Josh, um, suits you." He wrinkles his nose, signing, No. Thank you. Mandy flashes a smile, crossing her arms in mock dissatisfaction. "At some point, I'm just going to pick a name and you're going to have to deal with it." She taps her nose for a second. "I like Liam. Liam?" The ghost boy's lips flatten into a grimace, but Mandy ignores him. "Liam it is. Kid, you're no longer Kid. You are now and forever henceforth Liam." She taps her nose again. "Can you help me create a name sign?"
If Liam could groan, he would, but he instead follows Mandy as she makes her slow way back into the lake and onto shore, where the American Sign Language book lays splayed out and semi-forgotten on the dirt.
Liam hovers at the top of the lemon tree, guarding the last remaining lemon. Lemon season has long since officially ended, but he remains vigilant as he waits for this last one to drop, watching for birds and bugs and Mandy. It's been at least a week (though by the time Liam bothered counting, he was sure it had already been another one) since she last came by, and he's eager to show her his new trick. Slowly, the wind shakes the lemon tree, and Liam watches as the lemon shudders once, twice, and falls into his open palms. If he concentrates, he can feel the lemon peel against his skin, and he grins as he floats off the top of the tree with the fruit in his hands.
Aimless, Liam drifts his way over to Mandy's rock, hovering above it and peering at the ASL book opened to a wind-blown page. Still clutching the lemon, he examines the image of the fist circling the chest and reads, Sorry, mimicking the gesture absentmindedly before glancing up to Mandy's usual path into the valley. But, like the scene that it's been for at least a week, there's nothing. And so he makes a split-second decision.
Lying on her side towards the edge of a little bed in the center of a small room with two chairs to the side and a large, beeping machine in the corner, is a long and lanky girl shrunken to fit the tiny space. A far cry from the lemon tree, the closest she gets to outdoor light is a fake window put up by one nurse or another that thought LEDs could satisfactorily emulate the sun. Still, Mandy is grateful for any little light she can get, only wishing she could actually step outside.
Sometimes she reaches for the Atlas her mom brought her that sits on top of her blanket at her feet, kicking it forward until her IV-injected arms can pull it towards her face and flip through it, reading the marked off entries until her medically-addalled mind allows her to cry, alone, over the places she won't see and the people she won't meet.
Sometimes Mandy just stares at the wall, debating whether or not Liam had been a hallucination brought on by her sick senses. Most days she comes to the conclusion that he never existed. Some days, deep in drug stupor, she demands that, since he never existed, her mind makes him come talk to her as she lays trapped in the deep whites and grays of the hazy building.
Sometimes she does nothing at all, staring at the gray window above the door that leads to the hall and waiting, waiting, hoping, for the sweet surrender of deep, never-ending sleep.
So by the time Liam floats his way through a slightly ajar hall door, pulling a golden fruit through the crack, Mandy isn't sure of anything but her want for rest. He sets the lemon down on her stomach, leaving his hands free and his eyes wide with a fear that makes him look utterly too young to be watching Mandy in her waning state. Through half-slitted eyes glazed with medication, she watches his hands. Mandy, he signs, You didn't come.
She lets out a wheezy laugh, signing back, I tried, L-A-R-R-Y. I couldn't get out of bed. Stupid reason.
He scowls, signing back his name sign. Liam. Idiot.
Mandy wheezes again. My fault, Liam. Her eyes slide fully closed, but her fingers move slightly, and he catches, Thank you so much for the lemon. Finally she circles her fist, fingers rubbing against her chest in a circle over her heart, and goes terribly, horribly, still.
Liam's feet connect with the floor for the first time with a heavy thump as a long, drawn out beep fills the air. His legs crumple beneath him with the sudden weight of holding a body, like a bowling ball knocking his knees in, and for a second, he just lays there in shock. After a moment, Liam uses shudderingly corporeal fingers to touch Mandy's, picking up her hands and clasping them around the lemon. As he tries to stand, his eyes catch on the Atlas lying at the foot of her bed, and, in the spur of the moment, he grabs it in his stunningly real real hands. He pushes himself up, staggering forward and running into the door, water droplets tracing strange paths down his cheeks.
The door doesn't bend around him, and instead he uses the knob to pull it open and run through, straight into the solid body of a person. Hiding the Atlas up his shirt, he allows the person to drag him back into the room with Mandy (Mandy) and onto a chair as another person races in. They squat next to the poor girl, long and lanky looking tiny without her constant movement, and one gives a small shake of their head. The other lets out a deep sigh, rubbing their face with an incredibly weary look. Both adults turn back to look at him before conversing in hushed tones, one standing to exit and the other walking over and sitting in the chair next to him.
"Hey there, kiddo. What's your name?"
-
Liam pulls a large, crumpled bag from his backpack along with a worn and slightly tearing book. Flipping to a specific page, he grabs two yellow lemons from the bag and drags one nail across one, just enough to gather the zest to make a yellow mark on the page. He's long and lanky himself, now, with a light scruff on his chin and a weary look in his eyes. After marking Cabo de San Vicente cliffs off in the book, he sets it and the lemons down and sits, cross-legged, on the dry grass.
Pulling out a glass and a bottle of champagne and setting them both down too, Liam signs, Last one, the adventure's almost over. He pops the champagne, pours up a glass, peels the lemon that was scratched, and stares out at the ocean for a second. Then he pours the glass over the cliffs into the water, tossing the unblemished and unpeeled lemon along with it. The other he separates carefully into slices, popping them into his mouth one at a time and chewing slowly. Once he's done, he signs to the wind, Now this is where you should've seen the ocean. See you, Mandy.
And, just for a second, he almost sees the shadow of a girl grin and sign, Thanks, Liam.
The end
She hugs a branch with one arm as she reaches for a fruit bobbing in deep water in the gentle wake of passing ducks. She hadn't worn anything but a t-shirt and pants rolled up past her knees, and no dry clothes sit ashore, so she stands in the shallow water near dry land and stretches out until her fingers catch the lemon to pull it out of the water. It's slick and dripping, and she wears a look of concentration as she digs her nails into the top and bottom of the fruit for leverage and pulls herself back until she stands fully upright again, slightly out of breath. She examines the lemon with a wry smile, turning it over in one hand as the other clasps the tree, before meeting the gaze of a semi-translucent figure at the shore of the lake. The figure stands - no, floats, the feet hovering ever so slightly over the sand-and-dirt mixed ground as water gently laps at the space barely a foot in front of it. And it gazes back, something plaintive but curious in its watch.
After a brief moment, the girl breaks off her stare, tucks the fruit into a deep pants pocket, making a bulging lump, and wades her way to dry ground until she stands in front of the apparition. Up close, its colors are muted, almost like shadows under a night sky despite the blazing sun up above. It is a little boy, she thinks, or was, no older than twelve, and he stands (floats?) nearly a couple heads shorter than she. Not quite silvery or gray, but dim, and she can see the background blurred through him like she's looking through warped, colored glass.
After giving a small swallow, the girl clears her throat and says, "Hey there, um, kid. My name's Mandy. I saw you watching the tree, and I thought you might want a lemon. I just didn't know if you could," her eyes flick sideways and down to the water before dragging back up to the spirit boy, "reach it or not." Her hands moving in unconscious sign language to mirror her words betray her nerves, but the ghost boy hardly seems to notice, instead flashing an obvious smile and holding out his own palm, face up. It's such an utterly mischievous look that, when she pulls the lemon out of her pocket and drops it where his palm would be, Mandy is unsurprised to see the spirit boy doubled over in the silent laughter of a prankster having well executed their jest after the lemon falls through his hand to the ground with an unsatisfying thunk.
He straightens up as she squats, picking up the lemon again and brushing off the sand clinging to its still damp surface, and she stands back up to watch him mouth the word "Sorry", looking only vaguely repentant.
"Are you a ghost?" she blurts, lemon still in hand, and winces a moment later. "I mean, are you - were you - alive? Who are you? Why are you here? Can you speak?"
The ghost boy gives her a sullen look and slowly but surely shrugs his shoulders, then raises his hand to wave it through his own throat.
Mandy gives a small, self-conscious cough that turns briefly into a wheeze before saying, "I guess that's a no, then." She hesitates a moment, then digs her nails into the lemon rind and peels it open until only flesh and bits of pith remain. "Can you touch the inside of the fruit? Do you want one?" She pulls off a slice and pops it in her mouth, watching as his face turns from sullen to horrified, lips pursing and nose screwing up, and she gives a quick laugh as her nerves fade. "The lemons from this tree are sweet, I promise. And besides," she puts the lemon in one hand and draws out a small pouch of white sparkling sugar from a shorts pocket, "I came prepared in case it wasn't." As she chews, Mandy pulls apart another slice and holds it out for him.
With a doubtful look, he extends his hand out to take it, his fingers like murky water. And, to Mandy's disappointment, the ghost boy's hand falls through her own without taking hold of the peeled fruit. Dropping his arm back down to his side, he shrugs without surprise. With a thoughtful hmm, Mandy breaks the remaining fruit in half and places one half on a bit of lemon peel on a nearby rock along with the pouch of sugar. "Alright, I need to head out. It was nice to meet you!" Eating the slice she had pulled apart for him, sliding her feet into her abandoned shoes and absent-mindedly waving good-bye with her free hand, Mandy weaves her way away from the lake, heading, presumably, out of the valley. She looks back only once, to watch him as he stares at her with furrowed brows. As he catches her looking at him, he waves back, his faded arm catching the light.
And as she moves out of sight, the little spirit boy turns back to the lemon tree, staring wistfully at the treetop. After a brief moment, he hovers closer to the fruit sitting on the rock and reaches out again with a close to resigned sadness. But this time, as he reaches to grasp the fruit, he takes a hold of it with three small fingers and manages to lift it close to his face before he drops it in surprise. Floating quickly now, he moves after Mandy, opening his mouth as if to call out - but she's disappeared on some unknown path, and his throat makes no noise. Instead, he returns to the tree, hovering cross-legged next to the fruit as he picks it up again and stares at it with open mouthed wonder.
-
Towards the edge of a little lake in the center of a small valley is a lemon tree, branches still and leaves only slightly aflutter with each sigh of the wind. And at the bottom of the tree, toes hovering slightly above the lake water, floats a shadowy figure no older than twelve, staring with determined eyes and a flat-lipped scowl at a lemon hanging some branches above him. He reaches for the lowest limb with a steady hand, "pulling" himself onto it even as the branch remains unmoving and leaves don't crumple under his incorporeal fingers. He sits like this for a bit, twigs sticking through his torso and arms like mini swords, before floating and climbing his way up the tree to sit, intertwined with branches, next to his lemon. With a twinge of hope, he cups his hands around the yellow fruit and pretends to pull, but achieves nothing. Uselessly, he waves one hand through the lemon, only to have a burst of wind ripple through the leaves and gently sway it back and forth. And so he only sits, hugging his knees, and waits.
-
By the time Mandy returns, the ghost boy has watched two sunrises fly above the edge of one of the small mountains surrounding the lake. She emerges while the sun is high in the sky, running freely down the slightly sloping hill into the lake, holding a thick book under her arm. After a brief glance around, she sets the book down and pulls something out of her pants pocket, digging in the sandy dirt with the toe of her shoe. As the ghost boy watches from behind the branches of the lemon tree, Mandy drops the something into the hole, pushing dirt back over it and letting out a recognizable sigh.
Pulling off her tennis shoes and socks and rolling up the hems of her pants, she ignores the book and the dirt and wades into the lake, heading for the tree. As she approaches, the ghost boy swings himself down from the branch he sat on to gently float down to the lake until he drifts just above the water next to Mandy. Even submerged to her shins in the lake she still stands taller than the ghost boy, so he raises himself a little bit more until they're eye to eye. Mandy blinks slowly to see him there before shooting him a grin. "Oh, good, you're still here. I have something for you." She points a thumb back at the book. "Wanna see?"
The ghost boy glances at the shore before shaking his head and pointing at the lemon he had been sitting by.
Mandy lets out a burst of laughter. "Another lemon? Maybe if there's one floating around here somewhere - I don't want to pick one from the tree. See how it's partially in the lake? I don't know how it's still alive, but I would rather keep it that way. C'mon, let's go back for a second." She turns around, making her way back to the sandy dirt of the lakeshore. Reluctantly, he bobs forward after her, still stealing looks at the tree.
As he floats into shore, Mandy sits on a rock and holds up the book she brought, reading aloud, "'American Sign Language, a comprehensive guide.'" The ghost boy looks at the book, then back at Mandy, and then gives her a look so utterly exasperated she has to grin. "Look, it's not just going to be me flipping pages." She sets the book down again and starts signing along with her speech, "I sign at home with my mom, so I can teach you. We can start off with one you might really need to learn." Mandy circles her fist, fingers facing her body, over her chest once. "Sorry." Remembering the previous time they had met, the ghost boy looks away in embarrassment. Before he has a chance to respond, though, Mandy gives a hacking cough, covering her mouth with her elbow to muffle the choking sounds until it slows to a small wheeze. With a weak smile, she says, "Like there, I interrupted, so I would sign," she circles her fist again.
After a moment, the ghost boy repeats the gesture twice, and Mandy grins again and opens the book. "Perfect."
It takes almost until sunset for Mandy to decide it's time for her to leave, and as she stands up to go the ghost boy points at the lemon tree again. I want, he signs, and Mandy chuckles slowly. She walks over, examining the water under the tree - and sure enough, a lemon floats in the shallow water of the lake. In a pinch, she wades back in to grab the fruit, peeling it in her hand as she walks back to the ghost boy. "Alright, I assume that you can touch the fruit, then? I have to run, so I'll leave you to it, but I hope this works. I'll see you soon!"
Mandy sets the peeled lemon down on the same rock, waving goodbye and jogging back up out of the valley. He watches her leave before squatting down to pick up the lemon again and turning to the mound of dirt she had covered the something in that morning. Lifting the lemon just by its edge, he uses the fruit to brush away the dirt, pushing away bits of glass and paper until what Mandy had buried is exposed to the fading sun. As it comes into the light, the ghost boy sits back on his haunches and stares at it, an unsettling feeling pressing against his chest. A pile of at least eight pills, four white, a couple red, a blue, and a purple, sit amongst dirt and sand next to the rock. Hesitantly, he does his best to smooth the dirt back over the pile, but he's unsure why he's hiding it. Instead of sitting, though, lost in thought, the ghost boy throws the lemon into the lake, stands, and returns to his position in the lemon tree. And so he waits.
For the next couple weeks, Mandy returned nearly every day around noon. At least once a week, possibly more (but really, the ghost boy didn't bother counting), Mandy hid her pills somewhere in the vicinity of the lemon tree. Once, he watched as she tossed them into the lake, but her look of distaste for the activity made it clear she didn't want to do it again.
Up until about halfway through the lemon season, the lemons on the tree beginning to thin out, Mandy didn't say or sign a word about her activities. And so, as she sits on the rock she always leaves his lemon on, the ghost boy is caught by surprise as she signs Can I tell you a secret?. He mimics the word for secret, though, truth be told, he could recall its meaning.
"A hidden thing," she says aloud, "something few people know. Secret." The ghost boy nods, awaiting her following sentence with some dread. I'm dying, she signs, a small laugh escaping her mouth as she signs it. "Every day I wake up knowing I'm still alive when I shouldn't be. But honestly," her words switch to hand movements, I'm kind of looking forward to it.
The ghost boy leans back, hands still as he thinks of something to say. It's okay, he signs finally. I'm dead. I think. Mandy leans too, laying back until her head drapes over the edge of the rock and her hair brushes the dirt. "Ah, well, the dead and the dying. My mom says we'll go to see the ocean once it's all over, but I think we both know that's a lie. She's already let me do whatever I want, so I can't really have much time left. I'm supposed to be taking these meds to slow down the, I don't know, spread or something. Give me a few more months, I guess." She straightens up, staring off into the distance. "'Amanda', my mom tries to convince me, 'They'll save you'. That's not what the doctors say, that's for sure. I've been so eager to just get it over with that I've been - don't say I'm stupid, I know what I'm doing - just neglecting the meds." The boy signs Idiot anyway, not knowing what other words to say nor how to sign them.
Mandy stands up, giving another one of her lung-rattling hacks, and the ghost boy can hear the pain in each cough. As it clears, she glances back at him and says, "I used to think I'd go on an adventure, planned out this whole adventure Atlas to do it. But this is my own little adventure, you know? It's as exciting as anything I've ever done, that's for sure." She grins again, stretching. "Alright, that's enough of me. Secret for a secret, kid. Start off with your name, please."
The boy drifts to standing too. I don't know.
Mandy wades into the lake, struggling for a second before pulling herself onto the lowest branch and wincing with the effort. "You don't know? What do you mean, you don't know? What do you know?" He floats over to follow her, imitating the way she pulled herself up and hovering on the branch next to her. Nothing. Only the lake. He stares at the lemons. And the, his hands pause and he points. She signs and says, "Tree? Lemons? Lemon tree?" He nods. Lemon tree. Who? His shoulders shrug. I don't know. Why? I don't know. Mandy stares at him for a brief second before nodding back. "So, you need a name. What about?Larry?"
The ghost boy gives a vehement shake of his head, looking somewhat disgruntled, and Mandy gives out an uncharacteristic snort. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with Larry. I know a perfectly nice Larry. Alright, fine. Josh? Josh, um, suits you." He wrinkles his nose, signing, No. Thank you. Mandy flashes a smile, crossing her arms in mock dissatisfaction. "At some point, I'm just going to pick a name and you're going to have to deal with it." She taps her nose for a second. "I like Liam. Liam?" The ghost boy's lips flatten into a grimace, but Mandy ignores him. "Liam it is. Kid, you're no longer Kid. You are now and forever henceforth Liam." She taps her nose again. "Can you help me create a name sign?"
If Liam could groan, he would, but he instead follows Mandy as she makes her slow way back into the lake and onto shore, where the American Sign Language book lays splayed out and semi-forgotten on the dirt.
Liam hovers at the top of the lemon tree, guarding the last remaining lemon. Lemon season has long since officially ended, but he remains vigilant as he waits for this last one to drop, watching for birds and bugs and Mandy. It's been at least a week (though by the time Liam bothered counting, he was sure it had already been another one) since she last came by, and he's eager to show her his new trick. Slowly, the wind shakes the lemon tree, and Liam watches as the lemon shudders once, twice, and falls into his open palms. If he concentrates, he can feel the lemon peel against his skin, and he grins as he floats off the top of the tree with the fruit in his hands.
Aimless, Liam drifts his way over to Mandy's rock, hovering above it and peering at the ASL book opened to a wind-blown page. Still clutching the lemon, he examines the image of the fist circling the chest and reads, Sorry, mimicking the gesture absentmindedly before glancing up to Mandy's usual path into the valley. But, like the scene that it's been for at least a week, there's nothing. And so he makes a split-second decision.
Lying on her side towards the edge of a little bed in the center of a small room with two chairs to the side and a large, beeping machine in the corner, is a long and lanky girl shrunken to fit the tiny space. A far cry from the lemon tree, the closest she gets to outdoor light is a fake window put up by one nurse or another that thought LEDs could satisfactorily emulate the sun. Still, Mandy is grateful for any little light she can get, only wishing she could actually step outside.
Sometimes she reaches for the Atlas her mom brought her that sits on top of her blanket at her feet, kicking it forward until her IV-injected arms can pull it towards her face and flip through it, reading the marked off entries until her medically-addalled mind allows her to cry, alone, over the places she won't see and the people she won't meet.
Sometimes Mandy just stares at the wall, debating whether or not Liam had been a hallucination brought on by her sick senses. Most days she comes to the conclusion that he never existed. Some days, deep in drug stupor, she demands that, since he never existed, her mind makes him come talk to her as she lays trapped in the deep whites and grays of the hazy building.
Sometimes she does nothing at all, staring at the gray window above the door that leads to the hall and waiting, waiting, hoping, for the sweet surrender of deep, never-ending sleep.
So by the time Liam floats his way through a slightly ajar hall door, pulling a golden fruit through the crack, Mandy isn't sure of anything but her want for rest. He sets the lemon down on her stomach, leaving his hands free and his eyes wide with a fear that makes him look utterly too young to be watching Mandy in her waning state. Through half-slitted eyes glazed with medication, she watches his hands. Mandy, he signs, You didn't come.
She lets out a wheezy laugh, signing back, I tried, L-A-R-R-Y. I couldn't get out of bed. Stupid reason.
He scowls, signing back his name sign. Liam. Idiot.
Mandy wheezes again. My fault, Liam. Her eyes slide fully closed, but her fingers move slightly, and he catches, Thank you so much for the lemon. Finally she circles her fist, fingers rubbing against her chest in a circle over her heart, and goes terribly, horribly, still.
Liam's feet connect with the floor for the first time with a heavy thump as a long, drawn out beep fills the air. His legs crumple beneath him with the sudden weight of holding a body, like a bowling ball knocking his knees in, and for a second, he just lays there in shock. After a moment, Liam uses shudderingly corporeal fingers to touch Mandy's, picking up her hands and clasping them around the lemon. As he tries to stand, his eyes catch on the Atlas lying at the foot of her bed, and, in the spur of the moment, he grabs it in his stunningly real real hands. He pushes himself up, staggering forward and running into the door, water droplets tracing strange paths down his cheeks.
The door doesn't bend around him, and instead he uses the knob to pull it open and run through, straight into the solid body of a person. Hiding the Atlas up his shirt, he allows the person to drag him back into the room with Mandy (Mandy) and onto a chair as another person races in. They squat next to the poor girl, long and lanky looking tiny without her constant movement, and one gives a small shake of their head. The other lets out a deep sigh, rubbing their face with an incredibly weary look. Both adults turn back to look at him before conversing in hushed tones, one standing to exit and the other walking over and sitting in the chair next to him.
"Hey there, kiddo. What's your name?"
-
Liam pulls a large, crumpled bag from his backpack along with a worn and slightly tearing book. Flipping to a specific page, he grabs two yellow lemons from the bag and drags one nail across one, just enough to gather the zest to make a yellow mark on the page. He's long and lanky himself, now, with a light scruff on his chin and a weary look in his eyes. After marking Cabo de San Vicente cliffs off in the book, he sets it and the lemons down and sits, cross-legged, on the dry grass.
Pulling out a glass and a bottle of champagne and setting them both down too, Liam signs, Last one, the adventure's almost over. He pops the champagne, pours up a glass, peels the lemon that was scratched, and stares out at the ocean for a second. Then he pours the glass over the cliffs into the water, tossing the unblemished and unpeeled lemon along with it. The other he separates carefully into slices, popping them into his mouth one at a time and chewing slowly. Once he's done, he signs to the wind, Now this is where you should've seen the ocean. See you, Mandy.
And, just for a second, he almost sees the shadow of a girl grin and sign, Thanks, Liam.
The end
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