Cost: Free.99

She was flirting with guys, making them believe they stood a chance and dashing when offered a drink. As she touched their arms, she would make up a laugh. Besides her ponytail, Quinn's eyes were adorned with light, neutral eye shadows and mascara. While drinking, her eyes proved to be the most practical tool. She was gone from home. Her mother was always on her case, believing she was a heavy alcoholic. Lately, her closest friends were Johnny, Jameson, and Jack. Her sister August hadn't answered the questions when asked what was wrong as quietly as she had. During a recent fight, her sister cursed her out and entered a liquor store. Since then, she hadn't seen her. 

While her ten-year-old brother counted up the bills for their distraught mother, she was guilty of ruining their mother. "It's ten thousand dollars," the pip-squeak said. Without saying a word, her mother left the room without screaming or crying. A sigh escaped his lips, along with the words, "This is messed up." A ten-year-old kid giving one a lesson in morals is a hard pill to swallow. She recently dropped out of college, neglected her student loan calls, and most of her friends had left. They were not fans of the ones who stayed. August didn't have to say it, her glare from her glasses did as she sat on the couch reading a book whenever she left. It used to be that August would wait up for her, but she knew they were both sick of her. It had always turned into a screaming match when August tried to talk to her about her behavior. 

It always turned into a screaming match whenever August tried to speak with her about her behavior. Quinn would flip it. She was the victim. Anyone would find it difficult to believe she was a victim when her brother found her in the bathtub every time she passed out. August would run cold water until she woke up. 

Having arrived home late at night, Quinn's father awaited her. A dim light illuminated his presence at the table. He smoked half a cigarette as his brother lay on the couch. This was the first time August hadn't been around. "Where's August?" she asked as she took a seat across from her father. "Overnight," he said. "She doesn't work overnights," she corrected. Her father slammed his fist against the table and asked, "When was the last time you were sober that you talked with your sister?"? She was silent. It had been a while since. "You know your sister is right that Bernice and Shelia are a bad influence," her father continued. All three of them quit their jobs and dropped out of college simultaneously. She looked at her brother, surprised, as he sat up. "At least it wasn't the tub," he said. "What's he talking about?" she slurred. "He has found you passed out in the tub several times in the last few months, thinking you were dead." Her father said. "Don't worry," he said heading to his bedroom, "I'll never be like you." Those were the last words said to her by her brother. 

Before he put his cigarette out and went to bed, her father said, "Get a job by the end of the month or you'll be homeless." The smoke clouded her mind of confusion. She didn't know what she wanted. Hoping to find meaning in life, she floated about, wondering if anyone had a real purpose in life? 

"Quinn?" she heard the bartender asked. He sounded oddly familiar. She hadn't been here since she was fourteen, that's when life took a wild turn. It was the last time her family was down here, the last time anything really mattered. He lived across from where her grandparents lived. "River?" she responded, noticing the chunky monkey had bloomed into a tall and handsome man. He had a tan line of sunglasses around his face. She assumed he must be a lifeguard. It would explain the muscle. He had the biggest crush on her, growing up, but became disappointed when she noticed the tan line of a ring around his ring finger. Of course, he is married or engaged. He talked about this town like it was Santa's workshop in a Hallmark movie. "Oh my God, how you've been, how's the family? Are they with you?" he asked. "Just August, we're in that job program for the summer," she said. "In the haunted house, you couldn't pay me enough," he said. Her eyes blinked in confusion. "What?" she said. "It's haunted that house," he said. "Oh, come on, there's no way." She laughed. "There's a legend of a ghost, she's wicked. The sound of bickering is enough to awake her. Why do you think they completely covered the mirrors in that house?" he responded. "Because everyone here is superstitious for no reason," she said. "The legend has it that the widowed Madame enjoys torturing souls already in distress-it is believed she died after watching her husband screw their help in the garden," he said. "Lovely. Keep preying on the idiots," she said, tapping her polished nails along the wooden bar top. Her drink still overflowing with foam. "There are legends of ghosts who haunt this town. How safe do you feel?" he said. "What’s the worst that could happen? I don’t wake up?" she laughed. "No, you don’t wake up to the life, you don’t know," he corrected. Must be nice, she wanted to say, but she had a thing about refusing to give it to the afterlife, despite her upbringing. "The Madame is a ghost, who what again?" she asked before sipping the foam off the top of her beer. "Gives you what you want but at a price," he said. "For free.99, sounds like a deal," she chuckled. "Your grandpa believed in this stuff," he said. "And my religious grandma did not," she said. "Wouldn't it be cool if he's still planting tomatoes in his garden?" he asked. "Can I just pay for my drink," she said, chugging her glass. "Your one of those, I see," he said. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked. "You know, what it means. It's on me the drink," he said, taking her empty glass.

She zipped around town on her bike, which she bought for the summer. She's not supposed to drink and drive, but wonders if there's an exception here. She rides by the house where her grandparents lived. It was not a big house, but it was large enough to accommodate one family at a time. Her parents stuffed her and her siblings in a car as soon as they got here the day after the hurricane. They found her grandparents dead in each other's arms. Coming down was exciting, but what she encountered was not. The place smelled of mildew. Every inch was soaked in water, the rosebush across town, and the garden her grandpa kept up was destroyed. Her father wanted to check out the place, but it was too late. She saw them dancing in wedding attire at least twenty years younger. Her dad looked concerned at her when she told him that. Her mom attributed the incident to pure trauma. While standing there, she lost track of how much time had passed.

 Across the street, a neighbor called out, "Quinn Simmon, is that you?” When she emerged from her trance, she saw River's mother rocking back and forth on her porch. As she walked her bike across the street, she pretended to smile. "Hello Georgia," she replied. "Where's your family staying," she asked. She hadn't been down here in possibly six years. "Just August, we're working for the summer," Quinn replied. "In that cursive house?" she laughed. "How's River, still living with you, married with kids yet?" Quinn inquired. "He lives in a shed in the backyard, made a nice little house. I don't have any grandbabies yet and his fiancé cheated on him," his mother responded as she winked. "None of that, Georgia," Quinn said, wagging her finger in disapproval. "Well, if you're interested, stop by the museum on your day off," she said. As she hopped back on her bike, riding off to hopefully the right block, she said, "Goodnight, Georgia!”

_____________________________________________________

“Have you been drinking alone in your room?” Riley asked, opening the window, looking down at the trolley roaming with tourists. “What does it matter and close that.” She replied. “Is Ms. Perfect hiding anything else from me?” He asked. “Damn, I’m sorry I didn’t know hooking up with your ex would bother you this much,” she said, still sitting on the floor, taking a swig of whiskey every so often without wincing. “I’ve never been perfect. You just thought my fat ass couldn’t get lucky, bitch,” she mumbled, getting up to close the window. “I didn’t say that you couldn’t,” he said. “Your one to talk about looks,” she spat. “Excuse you,” he said. “If I’m straight you 're gay,” she said. “August, don’t you think it’s a little late in life to be like yes dick and tits?” He replied. Of course, it was, that's what made it even more unnerving. 

“Riley, it’s not like the body dysmorphia is messing with your head.” She said. She was about three hundred and fifty pounds, a hundred pounds lighter after two years of pushing herself and never cheating and calculating everything she ate. In hopes, she’ll lose more. When she felt uncomfortable in her body, that’s when the attention started. That’s when Riley told her to get over herself. She had feelings for him in the past, but had shot her down. She moved on and she thinks it always bothered him a little that she apparently gained confidence where she was playing what he deemed the game.

“And you choose my Ex-girlfriend to use? "He questioned. “Oh my God, you guys weren’t together, and you were drooling over a meathead,” she said, refusing to take her hand off the window. “Aug come on,” he said. “Riley, is it possible we’re both wrong?” She asked. He grabbed the bottle from her hand and took a gulp. He nearly choked, forgetting she drank strong liquor like it, was candy. “If I was looking like your exes, this would not be a conversation,” she snapped. “She didn’t want to be seen in public with you,” he said. She glared at him, there’s a mixture of tears and anger trying to fight each other. “No, that’s you, you only knew me and her were going down on each other is because Bernice couldn’t keep her mouth shut, why was she even at a gay bar?” August questioned. His eyes outlook the window, both avoiding the truth. She was not careful. She wouldn't say it aloud. Why was it so important he knew, but not her sister? 

“Come on, you were not her type, you know it.” He said. “And why is that?” She demanded. “Don’t make me say it,” he laughed. “Have you never looked in a mirror?” She said. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He said. “You have high expectations, but I see nothing special about you,” she responded. “And for someone so fat, I see a lack of tits.” He said. “Typical,” she scuffed. “It’s hot in here,” he whined. Typical indeed, glossing over the argument of hurtful words. “They said to keep the windows close,” she said, refusing to move her hand from it. He went to touch it, but the glare from her glasses said it all.

“Wait, you actually believe in ghosts?” He laughed, walking towards the mirror covered in multiple sheets. “Riley!” She shouted as he pulled it. There was a face staring at them. August assumed it was what the mourning would wear. She looked at them with a sinister smile. “No, Riley covered that now,” she screamed as her voice cracked. Riley looked at what was a perceived widower. The black apparel from her time was a giveaway. He jumped back, grabbing August’s hand. “Always have to test everyone and everything.” She replied. “Hello,” the widower said. “Why did you remove it,” she panicked gasped. “Two bickering souls,” the ghost tsk. August could feel her hand becoming drenched in sweat. Riley’s grip was firm. She could barely breathe. She was trying not to hyperventilate. “What would you know,” Riley scuffed, with his fingers engrossed with each other. He could feel her hand trying to slip through his, but he’s refusing to release her from his grip. They were mad at each other but refused to separate. Who knows if they were both drunk or dreaming. Either way, they were praying this was a delusion.

"I know more than you want," the ghost said. "Shut the fuck up," Riley snapped. "Maybe don't tell a ghost to shut the fuck up," August muttered, her free handshaking, wanting to run but paralyzed from shock. Her body was good at betraying her. They both knew it. When she needed to speak in high-pressure situations usually caused by her sister, she just became numb. The words would not escape her mouth. "No, please don't stop on my accord," the ghost said. "You sound like you want to say something," he said. "Lover's quarrels are so boring," she yawned. "Lover's quarrel?" he laughed. "You haven't let go of each other since I arrive, but I may say I never have come across a woman being the breaking point in a relationship," she said. Great, even a ghost was calling her a whore. How could this possibly get worse? "It's more complicated since your day," Riley said. "Riley... I'm scared," she mumbled, with tears coming from her eyes, her body shaking. She couldn't stay still. Usually, she's the one well put together, usually, she's usually the one fighting, or maybe it was all an act. He thought to himself. Maybe it was an act. Who isn't hiding behind a mask?

"Do you

love

them

Or

Are they expectations?

The pressure from society

Or

Is the self-infliction

The excitement of knowing your human

Or

Is the desire for hope

The fact you're not alone

In the desire of human connection

The feelings that oversight

Your desires

Is it desire?

Or the desire to be desired"

the ghost said. 

She held his hand tight as she felt the floor spinning beneath her feet; she was trying to her balance. She was heavy, and he pretended to lift. It was showing at this crucial moment as the window opened at wild, there was a strong wind surrounding them. “Enjoy the life you want,” the ghost screeched. Riley and she embraced each other, the glass cracked as she felt dizzy, she always got vertigo at the worst time. Riley hadn't stopped looking at the windows that had opened by sheer force, he tried to guide her to the bed, she was trying to control her breath as he pushed, Her grip was strong, he went down with her, he could feel he sprained it. He didn't see it but he could feel the tears coming down. Maybe it was a bad dream, maybe he was sleeping on his arm and that's why it felt so heavy. Maybe he ate a bad brownie and this was a bad trip. Her glasses were fogged, she could barely see anything, she felt her stomach rumble, probably wasn't a good idea to drink on an empty stomach. It had worked for her sister but was causing her cramps at the moment. She never told people when she was hurt, but Riley always knew. "It's going to be okay," he said. It drove her crazy, he could read her better than anyone else. "No it's not," she mumbled. He hated when she was right, he knew she was right. He had no way of knowing what would happen? His eyes became heavy, he could feel her hand slipping, with every inch in his body, he managed to take not to let go. "That's sweet," the ghost said. It sent a chill down his spine, the hairs on his neck fight to stay down, he is becoming drenched in sweat, the floor is shaking, he's concern August is quiet. "Aug, it's going to be alright," he reminds her. She mumbles "I hope so," His eyes can no longer remain open but he can feel her nails digging into his palm.