Drifting. A word most think they understand. It has a specific definition, an exact meaning. Like all things do, all the normal and right things in the world. Though, you'll never truly understand something until you experience it. That's what I'm doing: experiencing what it truly means to drift. I drift through things and places, old and new. I drift through my many thoughts and unspoken words.
I'm dead. One might call me a ghost or a spirit, energy or manifestation, but the terms are irrelevant. I can't be sure how long it's been, but I tend not to think about my death often -- on purpose anyway. It was 1914 and I was sixteen. I know that my family were religious, and while I wasn't strong in that faith the way they were, I knew I expected something Holy at the end. But there were no golden gates, no angels, no reaper to accompany me into death. Just me and the wind and the lifeless body below me. Whether there isn't a heaven or I just wasn't invited, I wasn't sure. What I was sure of is that I was stuck somehow. I'm not sure that I ever really accepted my death; one second I was breathing, the next I wasn't and that was it. I don't feel sad thinking of it, though I have found it difficult to feel much of anything anymore.
My current existence consists of thinking and wandering. I've paid enough attention to notice the changing world and what comes with it, hearing the adaptations in speech as it changed and watching as technology emerged and became something I don't truly understand. What I find myself doing most often, though, is watching the various interactions that happen all around me, the emotions and expressions I hardly remember the names for. If I were to be envious of anything, if I were able, it would be the ability to communicate. It gets lonely in this head of mine. Just the thought of someone talking to me again, looking at me instead of through me, sends faint echoes of excitement through my silent chest.
Time, such an abstract concept I've come to realize, seems to have shifted into the 21st century. That's where I am now, or rather when I am, walking the crowded streets of Portland, not far from where I'd lived. I swung my arms lightly as I ambled down the busy sidewalk. I passed through many people, staring down at the snaking cracks of the sidewalk, sending visible goosebumps down arms and causing the the tightening of jackets. The ghost of a smirk shifts my face and warms the air slightly; somehow it still amuses me how aware the living seem to be without realizing it. I'll be subconsciously passed along as a mere shift in the wind or the effect of the slow changing of seasons - some rational explanation - but something in them notices me. The thought should comfort me, but actually only dims my sliver of a smile. In the beginning, when I felt more and these things were new, it had been a little fun to experiment with these ghostly things, trying to grasp the attention of those around me, even if only for a second. After a while it had become more of a sick joke, knowing that my strongest impact was nothing more than a breeze and maybe a shiver down their spine. Almost everything got old after enough time doing it, so I constantly searched for new things to fill the void that death left behind. It wasn't just my body that I lost that day, but my being felt hollow as well, like something important had been torn away with my last breath, something I hadn't known I possessed until I no longer did. So I'm often wandering through small stores and shops, every one of which made me feel that small prick of envy. Being stuck eternally in a tattered and bloody sundress makes it hard not to wish. Not to mention the snarled mane of hair, ragged and windblown from its former braid.
A loud laugh caught my attention over the hum of the crowd. I turned, my curiosity piqued. A boy sat on a low stool near the window of a coffee shop, a golden haired girl beside him, both with strikingly similar, and beautiful, features. They shared a wide smile and a sharply angled nose. Their prominent cheek bones gave their wide green eyes dominance on their face. For a reason I couldn't fathom, they intrigued me. Maybe because of the light that seemed to surround them both, a radiance of peace and content that I usually didn't see on others. This was what I noticed most, the laughing and smiling and the authenticity of it. And there was something, almost physical, drawing me toward their moment. As I subconsciously moved closer, I examined the boy, whose face I could most clearly see from this angle. His eyes glittered as he spoke, bright in the sunlight, and his dark hair fell just above his eyes. There was a distinct shimmer around his halo of curls, a colorful and physical ripple that seemed to dance every time he smiled. If I could name it, I would say it looked like happiness. Drifting close as I was, I could just make out his voice.
"You're joking though, right?" He said, replying to something the girl had been saying. His deep voice sounded sarcastic, though his smile was bright and seemed kind. The girl laughed, sounding nearly identical to his, rolling her eyes.
"I mean, I know how it sounds, but honestly I don't see why you're so shocked." Her shrug and teasing tone pulled me even closer, my curiosity growing. And something else, something close to impatience, pressed me nearly against their table, eager to hear them fully over the bustling of the sidewalk. I wanted to know what they were talking about.
"Oh, you're right. Why should I be shocked?"
"Come on, Ryley. I see him all the time -- he's practically attached to you. It was bound to happen."
He nodded, his eyebrows raised and his expression more serious, though in a way I somehow recognized as mocking.
"In that case, I should send him that picture I took of you this morning, just so he can get a good glimpse of what you have to offer."
Her smile dropped, and her eyes darkened slightly. "What picture?" Her tone was deathly serious now, suspicious irritation growing in her expression.
"Maybe I'll send it right now." The boy -- Ryley, I corrected mentally -- laughed, shrugging and reaching into his pocket.
Within a millisecond, the girl was leaping across the table, toward his hands. Before she could make contact he was out of his seat and running directly at me. Out of old reflexes that refused to fade with the rest, I began to jump out of his way, but before I could, he passed through me.
He practically skidded to a halt, the girl running right into his back and grasping the object, a phone I now realized, from his hands at his sides. She looked at him, confused, as he stood there.
"What?" She asked, bewildered.
He didn't answer. He was looking around, searching for something, a wildly confused look in his eyes.
"What?!" She repeated, louder this time.
"Hold on for a second." He held up his hand, still searching.
Then, as if he saw me, his eyes locked onto mine. Not through me, or in the place I should be, were I there, but really looking into my eyes. He shook his head slightly and whatever it was, was gone. He blinked quickly and I could see his vacant and cloudy stare behind me, the one I'd grown accustomed to. He turned to the girl, somewhat dazed still, and started jogging in the other direction. She turned toward me, where he'd been looking, and searched for herself. Not seeing anything she turned, seeming dissatisfied, and matched his pace until they had turned the corner.
I stared, stunned, at the place they had just been. That had never happened, in all the time I'd stared and poked and prodded the living world, begging for a response, they'd never been that aware of me. I couldn't be sure how long I stood, concrete to the spot as if it held some energy that I was somehow unaware of. Something did feel different, but I couldn't place it. I mulled over each experience I ever had in my attempts, but all I could remember was a palm reader shutting her door a couple moments after I had peered inside, curious to see if she was legitimate. She must have been, but she didn't welcome my presence, tugging on her crystal pendant nervously before pulling the door tightly closed. I'd been amused at that, but it ended there. But I could tell it wasn't some magic in the spot, it was something in me. Something burning and pulling in my chest, clawing it's way up through me. A hollow feeling was beginning in my stomach as well, something close to disappointment, I thought.
I shook my head quickly, trying to shrug it off and noticed how dark it had become around me. I must have stood there longer than I thought. I began to slowly walk down the street. Whether a fluke or a trick of the imagination, though I doubted that, the moment was over and standing there trying to grasp at it would not bring it back. This thought upset me more than I expected. And the hollow feeling did not leave me quickly. The farther I got down the block, no longer noticing much besides the burning knot that was tugging at me. I couldn't quite place the name of the feeling but it was heavy and gnawed in my chest and stomach. As I drifted, my pace increased until I was running, as if I were being pulled by some unseen force at the end of the street. I began to feel frustration with my speed and pushed myself harder, really concentrating on the act of moving forward, something I rarely did. Although I had no heartbeat, I felt as though my dead heart was pounding and racing out of me. My breath came quickly, though with no relief. The wind whipped past me and I heard thunder roll distantly, the sky darkening ever so slightly. Suddenly I found the word for the feeling: anxiety. Something I'd not felt since my death, I realized. I was impatient as well, for what I didn't know, but I couldn't shake the feeling I was late for something.
I couldn't help my thoughts flickering to the boy and girl with the green eyes, wondering if it could have anything to do with such a new experience. It felt too much to be a coincidence, but I couldn't imagine the correlation they could possibly have.
Maybe it was closure? Was I 'passing on' finally? That thought only worried me more, I wasn't sure I was ready for that.
Abruptly, as I was nearly around the corner, the urgency and anxiety stilled, not quite leaving me, but hiding in me as if it were waiting for something. I turned, confused, trying to understand. I looked at the building beside me, glancing into the small antique shop burrowed between a laundromat and a computer repair office. The quiet hum of of a radio flowed from the room, the sound a mix of an orchestra and static. The tether was back in my chest, less intense, but still tugging at me. It was more concentrated this time, like a rope around my body directing me into the room. I took a small step toward the open door.
Just then I heard a ringing laugh that broke into my attention. I looked toward the sound, spotting the boy, Ryley, and the girl with him. They were talking, laughing from the looks of it, but I couldn't catch what they were saying. I was intrigued again, a flicker of that anxiety poked at my stomach but I waved it off, watching them smile. I found my own expression involuntarily mirroring theirs, though a poor reflection I'm sure, and I knew there was something different about them. They were already familiar to me for some reason, though I knew that I had never met them, I felt an unexpected comfort in seeing them. Nothing had ever affected me quite like this.
A flicker, a new feeling that dug out the knot and relieved its pressure, was forming in me. I had no name for it.
The girl's hair bounced as she walked and her eyes glittered in the same way as the boy's. I was almost certain they were siblings, if not twins, they looked so alike.
They were next to me now, but instead of passing, Ryley stopped in front of the door, right next to me. I turned to him, curious, as he stared inside. His eyes had the same confused and almost crazed look in them. I suddenly wondered if he had felt the pull too. It was very unlikely, but the new lightness in my belly flared at this idea.
Without another thought I reached up and touched his hair, very lightly running my fingers over it, shifting the consistency of that radiating light that was still hovering over him. Only now it was a deeper color, rich and in a hue I'd never seen before. I wondered what that meant. To him the touch should've felt like nothing, like the air around his head.
Instead, his head snapped toward me, eyes searching and still confused. I pulled my hand away slowly, a small, breathy laugh escaping my lips as I watched his expression. The closest comparison I could imagine was a puppy tilting his head. As if he heard me, his brilliant eyes met mine for the second time.
I smiled and the flicker, the new feeling, bursted my being into flames. I felt light all over, my excitement at this possibility illuminating the air ever so slightly. I realized I wanted him to be able to see me, but not in the way I normally felt when I wished for interaction. I couldn't quite place what it was about this boy, but he had some sort of draw that I was beginning to question. I'd never met anyone who'd affected me this way, who held such an energy that I could somehow interact with, but it must have been something even he wasn't aware of. In the back of my mind I acknowledged that my growing obsession with these siblings, and with these emotions that resurfaced around them, was unhealthy. I knew it would hurt when they were gone, but in that moment I found it very hard to care.
I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to know, but speaking seemed to be the first step. But, like before, it was over as quickly and surprisingly as it had started. His eyes went distant and the confusion was back. Whatever it was about him, about what was happening, was not strong enough to hold on to.
With a sigh, I turned, my chest returning to its hollow and dull state. It was not in my best interest to pursue this, knowing it would result this way every time. There were no further possibilities to it, when the connection couldn't last longer than a glimpse. As I turned and entered the shop, the tether and urgent feeling all but dissolved, and I finally put my finger on the new emotion I had experienced. It was hope. And it was gone.