Art

They say that ghosts don’t exist. Take my word for it they do.

Ian gave me a smile, “Tell the bitch to get a life. Come on! Just tell her. You know you’ve always wanted to tell your patients that,”

I ignore him. Even when he comes behind me and starts rubbing my hair and calling me “Kiddo” I still ignore him. I look Chelsea in the eye, “How does that make you feel?”

She looked skeptic at first. Finally she replied, “I don’t know really….sad I guess.”

Ian sat on my lap. He made a comical sad face and said in a whiny voice, “Yeah, Art. It makes me sad,”

I continue to ignore him. “Would you like to go into more detail, Chelsea?”

Ian got off of my lap at sat on Chelsea’s. “Allow me,” he said before clearing his throat and putting on a girl’s voice, “It’s just so hard being a stupid spoiled whore. Oh, Dr. Jeremy, you just don’t know what it’s like to have everything. It’s just, like soooooo hard. Ohmagod!”

A smile begins to form around my lips. I try to hold back the laugh.

“Dr. Jeremy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie, “just peachy. Continue.”

An hour later I’m ready to see my last patient of the day. He just also happens to be the one that Ian makes fun of the most. Tom. A Goth kid or as the kids today call it: Emo. God it’s gonna be a long session.

After the nonstop insults on Tom, I pack up my briefcase. Miles is singing “Thriller” while attempting (and miserably failing) to do the moonwalk. I begin to close my briefcase when he walks up behind me, aligning his mouth to my ear. He’s already at the third verse.

He sings at the top of his lungs,

“They're Out To Get You, There's Demons Closing In On Every SideThey Will Possess You Unless You Change The Number On Your DialNow Is The Time For You And I To Cuddle Close TogetherAll Thru The Night I'll Save You From The Terror On The Screen,I'll Make You SeeThat This Is Thriller, Thriller Night'Cause I Can Thrill You More Than Any Ghost Would Dare To TryGirl, This Is Thriller, Thriller NightSo Let Me Hold You Tight And Share A Killer, Diller, ChillerThriller Here Tonight.”

“Shut the hell up!”

Ian gives me a look of false sympathy, “Am I angering you, Art?”

“Yes!”

“Oh. Do you want to explain how you feel?”

“Why won’t you get lost?”

Ian gave me a look. One that said he was offended. “How can I say that? I’ve been here since you were a kid. You were my favorite brother,”

“You were alive then. Usually when people die, they stay dead. Why can’t you STAY DEAD!”

“I was there when you got your psychology degree,”

“You died when I was fifteen!”

“So? I was right next to you when you got your degree. I saw mom crying. She was so happy,” Ian then let out a loud gasp. “Hey, Art? I think she was excited. Don’t you think? I wonder what was going on in her head,”

He’s really starting to annoy me now. “Don’t even-”

“I know exactly what she was thinking,”

“Stop now!”

“Here’s what she was thinking:

I'm so excitedI just can't hide it,I'm about to lose control and I think I like it,I'm so excited,” he stands on the desk, knocking over all of my papers.

“SHUT! THE FUCK! UP!”

“Come on! Lighten up!”

I leave my office and enter my silver sedan. I start the engine and drive home. Ian sings along with the car radio. My little brother Ian. Wait? Little brother? I was fifteen when we crashed. Ian was nineteen.

Just another useless thought. I don’t know why Ian kept stalking me. They say that ghosts don’t exist. Take my word for it they do.

I sit down in my favorite chair in my living room. I look for the remote. Wait. You don’t like T.V. Art. Remember? Yeah, sure. Ian loves television. Not me. That’s right. As I think this Ian comes out of my kitchen with a beer, “You need a television. One of those big, flat screen mother fuckers,” He started doing a weird dance. Like he just scored a touchdown. Most people would love being able to talk to a ghost. Take my word for it. It ain’t that great. With a draft beer and an annoying grin, ian takes a seat on the floor in front of me. He then stands up and turns on my stereo. Rolling Stones. No! That was Ian’s trash. Bobby Darin is what he turns on. Beyond the Sea.

“Somewhere- beyond the se-”

I cut off the stereo. I look him in the eye. “Sit down. Shut up.”

Ian obeys. He starts to pout. “Why do you always pick on me?”

“Cause you’re a twerp!”

He starts acting like a Goddard child. “Look at me Ian. I did not get a PhD so you could constantly bother me. I just get angry sometimes, okay. How can I make it up?”

“Get me a beer float,”

“Ewwww. Fucking twerp,”

“Fine. Let’s look at the year book together,”

I walk to my bookshelf and grab a 1976 year book. Leafmore High. I flip through the pages. “Ian!” I call. No answer. I merely shrug and turn to the page dedicated to my little…..-big brother. A picture of a nineteen year old youth smiles. The footer at the bottom reads: ARTHUR JEREMY 1956-1976.

Wait! Arthur Jeremy? That can’t be right! I read it again. The words don’t change. “Hey, Art! I’m tired! I’m going to bed!”

I should get some shuteye too. And that’s what I do. I have a dream. No. A flashback.

1976. Ian is riding shotgun and I’m darting the car at full speed down the road. It’s winter the roads are icy. Ian is scared to death, “Artie! Slow the fuck down!”

I don’t listen. The car hits a tree or something. The next thing I know, Ian is holding my body in his arms. “Artie! Wake up!”

Even though the body looks like me it’s not. I’m standing right behind Ian. “What is it twerp?”

Ian turns around and looks at me. “What the-”

I look around. I don’t feel the cold wind. I don’t feel anything,

I wake up with a cold sweat. That’s not how it went.

“Yes it is,” Ian says standing over my bedside. “That’s exactly how it happened,”

Ian hold up a frame with an award or something on it. I scan the document. A PhD. It reads Ian Jeremy.

“Now leave me alone! How come every day you do this? Stop fanaticizing about being alive! It’s not that great! Let me sleep!” Ian storms out of the room.

I shoot out of bed and run out of the room. The walls of my house crash around me. I stand still in my living room.

“NOOO!” I scream. What is happening? A bright light flashes in front of my eyes. It’s too bright to see.

I gave Ian a smile, “Tell the bitch to get a life. Come on! Just tell her. You know you’ve always wanted to tell your patients that,”

“How does that make you feel?” Ian says to the drama queen ignoring me. My little bro knows I hate being ignored.

I stand behind Ian, desperate for attention. I begin to rub his hair. “Come on Kiddo!”

The stuck up bastard keeps ignoring me. The drama queen says, “I don’t know really…sad I guess.”

I sit on Ian’s lap. “Yeah, Ian. It makes me sad!”

“Would you like to go into more detail, Chelsea?”

I’m tired of this. Ignoring me. I sit on the blonde girls lap. “Allow me. It’s just so hard being a stupid spoiled whore. Oh, Dr. Jeremy, you just don’t know what it’s like to have everything. It’s just, like soooooo hard. Ohmagod!”

Ian holds back a laugh. I got his attention.

They say that ghosts don’t exist. Take my word for it they do…