Chris Kempton stared blankly at the river, shaking his head. He really thought she knew. How could she not have known? That day at the river when Charli had almost drowned, she had looked right at him. She had seen him. At first, he couldn't understand how it was possible but later he was overjoyed about that fact. But he really thought she knew he was dead. Someone who could see ghosts. No one else had been able to see him.
He still couldn't believe he was a ghost. It had taken him a long time to realize that he was no longer alive, and sometimes he still battled to come to terms with that sordid, extremely ungraspable fact. Most of the time he just lingered around the river where the accident had happened, and other times he found himself wandering around the school grounds, but he never went home. Not after he discovered that his father had packed up and moved away. But where to, Chris had no idea. He once ended up at his mother's old address back in the city, but she no longer lived there. In the beginning, he had visited his grandparents' place, but that was too depressing, so he stopped going there. The fact that he had died was a hard-enough fact to grasp, but being alone, not knowing where to find his parents - that was even harder to digest than death itself.
Being able to talk to Charli had been a light in his dark world, it was amazing, and he really needed it. She was a remarkable girl and he had grown quite fond of her. No, he should stop lying to himself. His feelings for her ran deeper than fondness. Charli was unlike anyone he'd ever known. It was not just her breath-taking angelic face and creamy complexion that held him captivated. Nor was it just her strikingly emerald-green eyes or lovely daunting smile, or the fact that she had the most gorgeous reddish-brown hair which made him want to desperately run his fingers through. It wasn't even her gorgeous slim, build that allured him most of all. It was the unusual combination of her outward innocent, almost angelic appearance that so strikingly contrasted her inner strength and determination that struck him. She exuded such inner strength - it was as though she had a lion's spirit in a kitten's body. He had to admit, he was crazy about her and it tore him up inside that he would never get to be closer to her than a few feet away. They were two worlds apart - spirit and flesh. If only he had met her before the accident, he would be with her every waking hour of every day. He would never let her go. But it was an impossible dream. The fact that she did not even realize he was dead, frightened him. If she found out, it would frighten her away. Deep down inside he knew she harboured feelings for him too, he could see it in her eyes. That was the main reason he had to let her go. She had been through so much already. He didn't want to add to her pain and suffering. When she had opened up to him and spoke about her life, after losing her father, he had so desperately wanted to hold her, comfort her, and remove her pain. It pained him, almost madly so, that he was incapable of helping her.
Sadly, he sat, drinking torment as if it were tea, and watched the river stream by, all the while his heart ached to see Charli. He harboured the hope that she would come back to the river, but then again, if she did, he would have to hide from her - for her own good.
Chris went over the scene of his accident again, which he had done over and over a million times since the accident. He went over the details of the fight he had had with his father, on the night of the accident. He had been so angry with his father. All because his mother had left them, and his father hadn't even tried to convince her to stay. If only he hadn't left the house driven by anger. His anger had blinded him – he hadn't realized he was speeding. Nor had he registered that he was fast approaching the narrow bridge over the river – this blasted river.
He looked up at the bridge and sighed. The roads had been slippery that night, from the massive rainstorm. He had lost control of his vehicle and plunged into the bridge wall and was instantly flung out of the vehicle, over the river's bridge where he fell to his death – here, where he now spent most of his time – lost in time and space, and all alone. Life was filled with ironies. If he could throw up, he probably would have right now.
"Chris?" He was so deep in thought that he hadn't heard Charli's footsteps.
"Chris?"
He jumped up.
"Charli!"
They were lost in each other's gaze for what seemed like an eternity before she finally broke the connection. She battled to put her thoughts and emotions into words, and it was just as much of a battle to stop her hands from trembling. Was she really seeing him, or was he merely a figment of her imagination? Endless questions reeled through her mind. Was she going crazy? First, she saw her father, now Chris.
"What are you?" she asked.
Then it dawned on Chris that she now knew the truth.
"I'm so sorry, Charli. I thought you knew. When we talked..."
"I don't understand." Charli was close to tears.
"I don't either. I never believed in ghosts, not until I - became one." Chris scoffed at yet another irony.
"So, it's true, you're a ..."
"Ghost. Say it."
She shook her head, tears pouring down her face. "I don't understand. I've never had the ability to see ghosts before. Why now? And why you?" she protested, and her chin trembled.
"Maybe because of that fall you had. You kind of hit your head pretty hard. Come to think of it, I've heard that certain people who were involved in some sort of accident, and who sustained serious head injuries, would suddenly develop extra-sensory abilities. Perhaps that's what happened to you," he offered.
Charli wanted desperately to accept that explanation, but she had seen her father's image before going to the river – before her fall. Had that image been her father's ghost too?
With a despondent sigh, she plonked herself onto the grass. A few African Emerald cuckoos flew around them and then circled the area. Charli watched with remote interest. A few white and yellow butterflies tried to grab her attention as they fluttered their jolly wings energetically around her. If only she could feel some of their joyful energy but all she was endowed with was misery.
Chris sat down beside her. And for the first time, she noticed he made no sound at all. Why hadn't she noticed that before? She shook her head with indignation then sucked in a deep breath of air. The air was doused with a combination of dry leaves and the refreshing scent of the river. It was intoxicating and managed to move her into a languid state of relaxation, which she welcomed. It almost managed to remove her from all association with her life but then Chris spoke again, which immediately yanked her out of her momentary escape.
"Talk to me, Charli." His voice was a soft, low humming that Charli had come to love. Love! She had fallen in love with a ghost. Why was this happening to her? Why was everything happening to her at once? First losing her father, then being treated like a leper by her own family, now this – befriending and falling in love with a ghost – someone she could never be with. Anger and resentment tore through her like a knife running down the length of her body, carving jagged lines in her flesh. Swiftly was stood, fuelled by anger and resentment, that ran fiercely through her being, and marched to the riverbank. She started to trot back and forth in an effort to release her boiling combo of emotions.
Chris waited patiently. She needed to get all her anger out of her system. But he kept a close eye on her just in case she decided to fling herself into the river. In her state of mind, he wouldn't put it past her.
When she was exhausted, she sat down again, but far away from Chris, and refused to look at him while she brewed in her bane of emotions and memories.
"This is absurd!" she croaked and jumped up again. A surge of energy, she had no idea she possessed, spluttered through her core, and she suddenly took off, practically running all the way up the rocky climb to the bridge. She didn't spare a single glance at Chris.
Chris gingerly watched her go, fearing that she might slip and fall. He wanted to run after her but knew she needed time to digest all that had happened to her. He couldn't blame her. If he were in her shoes he would probably have been scared out of his wits and would have run halfway to the city by now. He pondered on her strength and courage again and his admiration for her only grew. He kindled the hope that she would return, and soon. He needed to see her. He always needed to see her. What if she didn't return? The question hit him like a blow to the stomach. Should he follow her? Would that be classified as haunting her? No, he would rather suffer an eternity of anguish than cause her any further distress. So, instead, he decided, he would live on the hope that she would return to him when she was ready. Resigned to this decision, Chris sighed a sorrowful sigh and sat, languidly, watching the strong currents of the river forever flow by, like time – never stopping, forever moving.