Safe

Ghosts

You couldn't bear the sound of constant scrubbing and splashing of water, so you paused your work and looked over at Jim. "Hey, Jim. When we find the planet, what will you do with the treasure--if there's treasure?"

Jim looked up and thought for a second. "I don't know. I guess I could buy a large ship, you know? And travel the universe." He waved his hand over him. "That'd be cool. Of course, I'd rebuild the Inn first." He looked up with a grin on his face as he daydreamed the things he could do with an infinite amount of gold.

You nodded once at his reply and rinsed off several dishes without adding your own answer. There was just too much to do and, besides, you wouldn't know what to do except repair Sarah's inn. Instead, you said, "Careful what you wish for, Jim. You might never know the consequences of achieving a dream like that."

"What do you mean?"

"What I meant was...you'll be all alone out there."

"You can come with me. Help me navigate and such. Wouldn't you want to travel the universe again?"

"I'm sorry to say that I don't. I've had enough of ships and space. I just..." You sighed and snatched a pan and scrubbed. "Plus, what about your mom? She's your only family. Will you forget her in your quest to travel the universe? She'll be all alone with worry.

Jim frowned. "I could always write letters. I won't travel my whole life, just to some planets."

You snatched some more plates and bowls and dumped them in your large wooden bucket. You scowled at a rough spot in a pan and scrubbed furiously and said bitterly, "Well, that's what you think until you realize you never want to go back home to your parents who you loved dearly and never saw of them again because you were too curious about the world that you disappeared from their lives, and you from theirs, and next thing you know, you're fighting alongside pirates!" For each word you spoke, you scrubbed harder and faster that your knuckles, on one hand, became red and bloodied from the hard bristles of the brush. You dropped the pan and it landed in the water with a splash.

Jim rushed over and knelt in front of you and took your hands in his. After briefly examining them, he looked at with a frown. "What are you on about? Come on, let's get this cleaned."

You snatched your hand back. "No. I think it can heal by itself."

Jim stared at you in surprise. "Your gunshot wound..."

You nodded. "Yeah. I remember it healed fast. Maybe this will heal any second." You looked at your hand after several seconds of silence and, sure enough, your skin looked clean and delicate like you never scraped them in the first place. There was, however, specks of blood on your knuckles.

Jim stared at it before looking into your eyes. "Let's take a small break."

He pulled you to your feet and led you into the kitchen and poured clean water onto your hands. As he searched for a clean cloth to dry them with, you decided to speak, "I'm sorry about everything I said, Jim. I've just been feeling a little depressed and I couldn't bring it up to you because there was never a right time. I-I had another dream..." your voice failed you as you remembered the realistic feeling of your mother's and father's embrace and the familiar smells that you would sometimes smell in the present that would remind you of that unfateful day.

Jim found a cloth and walked back to you. "Come on, Read. We tell each other everything. You can trust me, remember?" He took your hand and pressed it gently to dry them.

"I know, I know. I just...I keep forgetting." You placed a gentle hand over his and looked at him with a pained expression. "I know what happened to my parents."