Chasing Ghosts Excerpt : Chapter 1.

Fin

"I’ll never understand why it’s so hard for him to answer a simple text." Fin tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, frustration simmering. Three texts, no response. They’d tentatively made plans to meet Molly at the Rusty Nail, but Jax's silence was starting to feel like a pattern. It had been months since they’d last hung out, and Fin hated that. He used to dismiss the idea that the older you get, the fewer friends you have—but lately, with their conflicting schedules, he was beginning to see the truth in it.

"Get out of the way—come on!" Fin muttered, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. He was stuck in rush hour traffic. Roanoke wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough to make anyone frustrated when they were trying to get home on a Friday night. But truth be told, it wasn’t the traffic that had him worked up. Nor was it that Jax hadn’t texted him back. What really occupied Fin’s mind, what gnawed at him, was something deeper. It was the thing he hadn’t anticipated when he left Roanoke to study philosophy, nor when he graduated with his master’s and moved back home, planning to stay only briefly before diving into his PhD program.

Fin was starting to wonder if all his best-laid plans had really been worth the effort. Since his freshman year of philosophy in high school, he had dreamed of studying the subject and teaching at a university. But now, sitting in the quiet of his car, waiting for the light to turn green, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had sacrificed something along the way. While the other boys in school were out on the field, tossing footballs around and chasing after girls, he had spent his teenage years curled up with books—Marx, Aristotle, and a long list of philosophers who seemed to speak to him more than anyone else. He didn’t care about popularity, or fitting in with the crowd. Most days, he didn’t even care to make new friends. He and Jax had been friends since second grade. Molly wasn’t far behind, just a couple of years at most. In a way, their friendship had always been enough. But now, that feeling was starting to shift. Was it really enough to just have them? Was he settling for less than he wanted out of life? He had always thought he was content with his choices, but now, the question lingered—had he been fooling himself?

Fin finally arrived home at 6:10pm, his 2002 Honda Civic crawling into the driveway. The car had been a graduation gift from his parents, and over the years, it had become something of a constant in his life. He cared for it like it was a child—never missing an oil change, always taking it to the mechanic at the first sign of trouble. It wasn’t that Fin was a car enthusiast; he just believed in taking care of what he had. Besides, it wasn’t like he could afford to replace it anytime soon.

Jax still hadn’t responded to his text, so Fin gave up hope of hearing back. He tugged off the uninspiring uniform he wore as one of the school administrators at Blue Ridge College. The tie always felt like a noose, and the school-issued slacks made him feel like a cog in a corporate machine. This wasn’t the life he’d envisioned for himself. Every day, he convinced himself that this was temporary, just a stepping stone. Soon, he’d start his PhD, and then he could finally pursue the career he truly wanted.

Cold beer in hand and sweatpants on, Fin flopped onto his old couch and clicked the TV on. He laid his head back, letting out a long sigh. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Jax hadn’t texted him back. After a long week, a little relaxation might be just what the doctor ordered. I really should text Molly, though, he thought. It would be a shame if she showed up at the Rusty Nail alone. 

Fin: Hey, have you heard from Jax?
Molly: …..No. Haha. I was just about to text you. Classic Jax. Still wanna meet up?
Fin: I don’t know, I just put my sweatpants on. Haha.
Molly: The ones I got you like five years ago for Christmas?
Fin: The very ones…
Molly: I’m surprised they’re not full of holes by now, you wear them so much. I’m buying you a new pair this Christmas. Haha.
Fin: Why? I love these.
Molly: Ha. You’re ridiculous….miss you.
Fin: Miss you too. I’ll text you if I hear from him.
Molly: Sounds good. 

Fin placed his phone on the old coffee table he’d found on the side of the road and flipped through the channels. He was one of the only people he knew who still watched live TV. He didn’t have any subscriptions like his coworkers. He often pretended to have seen the latest popular shows, hoping no one would ask too many questions.

His mind wandered back to Molly. He did miss her, and maybe it would be good for her to have a break from constantly taking care of her needy dad. Maybe I should text her back. The worn in couch invited him to entertain a contrary thought.

Fin’s search through the channels ended on a wildlife program titled Big Cats in the Wild. It was good enough to nod off to. His eyes were growing heavy as the narrator described the cheetah on screen, calling it a lightning bolt, striking its prey with fury. It felt good to rest for a change. Aside from the tentative plans with Jax and Molly, Fin hadn’t planned anything for the weekend. It was all his, which usually meant cracking open a new commentary or reading one of his well-worn classics. Either way, a night in was becoming more and more desirable.

Rumble, rumble, rumble.The sound of Fin’s phone shook him from his rest.

“Are you kidding me?” Fin muttered as he saw Jax’s name light up his phone. Of course, Jax would respond the moment he decided to get comfortable for the evening.

Jax: Can't wait to hang out with you guys! Been too long!!

Fin rolled his eyes, his body resisting the command to sit up and get dressed again. He had long since decided that if he and Jax hadn’t been friends since childhood, they probably wouldn’t have become friends at all. Jax was a rebel by nature, someone who bristled at being told what to do or how to do it. Structure felt like a prison to him, which made holding down a job a consistent struggle.

In Jax’s words, he was a “free spirit,” someone the system couldn’t handle. Fin couldn’t help but find it ironic that Jax’s latest job was at a Walmart—a glaring contradiction to his usual anti-consumerist rhetoric. Then again, even revolutionaries needed to pay the bills sometimes.

Fin: Awesome. Really looking forward to it.

With a long sigh, Fin stood and dressed himself. He combed through his well-organized closet in his one-bedroom apartment, settling on his favorite burnt orange sweater. Molly always teased him, saying it made him look like a famous fat cat from Saturday morning cartoons, but he didn’t care. He loved it. A black beanie and a pair of slacks rounded out the outfit, and he was out the door.

The chilly March air hit him as soon as he stepped outside, chilly for Virginia, at least. He had spent his undergrad years in Hanover, NH, where winters were so harsh they could squeeze the breath out of your lungs if you didn’t cover your face. His time in New England had been formative, but by the end of it, Fin was more than content never returning—at least not in the winter.

Fin parked. The Rusty Nail was far from fine dining. The yellow glow of the neon sign flickered, almost as if it were waving to welcome patrons. Tucked away on a dusty back road, it remained hidden from all but the locals.

The door creaked open as Fin stepped inside, the dim light inside a stark contrast to the fading daylight. Smoking in public places had been banned for nearly 20 years, but the walls and décor still held onto their past. The stale stench of smoke lingered in the air—offensive to some, but oddly familiar to Fin. It reminded him of home, like the smell of baked cookies at Grandma’s house, though far less appetizing.

Tucked in the corner, a sticky table with an uneven leg had been the longtime spot for Fin, Molly, and Jax. Fin instinctively made his way to the back of the room, knowing they'd be in the booth.

“Fin!” a cheerful voice called from behind the bar.

“Hey, Tammy,” Fin responded, “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know me, hun," she said with a wink, "Same old, same old.” Tammy cackled, her round belly and double chin bouncing with the rhythm of her laugh.

“I hear that,” Fin said, joining in her laughter.

“Just the regular?” she asked, already reaching for the glass.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Molly and Jax in the back?”

“Where else?”

Fin found his companions where he expected. "I see you got started without me," he said, a grin spreading across his face as he approached the table.

"Thought you’d never get here," Jax said, standing up to hug his friend. "What took you so long?"

"Traffic, you know," Fin replied, moving to hug Molly, who greeted him with a tight squeeze.

"I’ve missed you, Finny," Molly said warmly. "I told you he’d wear his orange cat sweater, Jax," she added, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder. "Looks like you owe me a drink."

"What? I don’t remember making that bet," Jax replied, his smile making it clear he was just as pleased to see Fin.

Just then, Tammy greeted the group with frothy cups from the tap.

“Tammy, you brilliant Southern belle!” Jax said theatrically. “Every time you set a drink down, it’s like you’re painting a picture. You know, this place, the drinks, the clinking of glasses— it’s all one big metaphor for life, isn’t it?”

Tammy rolled her eyes. “Oh, is that right, Jax? I didn’t take you for such a lightweight. You’ve only had one round.”

“Just enough to unlock my mind,” Jax mused. “Come on, Tammy—haven’t you ever wondered if this cloudy cup is half full, or half empty, just waiting to be filled with some great drink? Makes me think about life. Doesn’t it, you?”

“Oh, you’re such a poet,” Molly interjected sarcastically.

“He’s a poet, alright,” Tammy playfully added. “I got a poem for you, Bobby Snow.”

Fin smiled, assuming their sweet barkeep probably meant Robert Frost. He had no intention of correcting her.

“A poem for me? My beautiful Dionysus, please, may I hear it?”

“Words are cheap, don’t make a peep, save us the headache, Jax, shut up and drink.” Tammy bowed, earning applause from Molly and Fin.

“Tammy—my heart!” Jax held his chest dramatically, as if pierced by a sword. “You’re the boss, though.” He smiled, accepting the cold beer from the middle-aged woman. “Love you, Tam.”

“Love ya, kid.” Tammy said, exiting.

Fin found his chair and took a long gulp of beer. The cold liquid felt like a small reward for a long week of work. He was glad he’d come, and his momentary frustration with Jax’s delayed communication faded as soon as he saw his old friend. Jax had a way of doing that to you. One minute, you’d want to punch the smug smile off his face; the next, you'd be swept away by his idealistic ramblings. He was a good friend, even if he wasn’t the most reliable.

“So, kid, how’ve you been?” Jax asked, his unnecessary sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Kid?” Fin laughed. “I’m like three months younger than you.”

“You learn a lot in three months, Finny,” Jax teased, grinning.

“You’re ridiculous. But I’m good. You?”

Jax leaned back in his seat, the booth’s aging leather creaking as he moved . “Oh, I’m doing just fine. I’ve got an exhibit coming up. I’ve been documenting the lives of my co-workers. Calling it The Lives of the Oppressed.” He motioned in the air, as though his title would magically appear like on a children’s show. “It’s an exploration of my co-workers, forced to work slave labor wages just to make ends meet in this country. The rich get richer, the poor get poorer.”

“Wow, that sounds heavy, man,” Fin replied. “You still at Walmart?”

“Yeah, for now. At least until the piece is done.”

“You should see the photos, Fin. They’re really good,” Molly interjected.

“You’ve seen them?” Fin turned to Molly. “You guys hanging out without me?”

“Jealous, mate?” Jax poked at Fin.

Fin smiled and pushed him back.

“We got together a couple months ago. You were invited, remember?” Molly reminded him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, that’s right,” Fin said, his gaze dipping to his beer for a moment. “Sorry. That was a crazy few weeks at work.”

“We understand, Finny,” Molly said, her voice warm and comforting. She had a way of making everything feel okay. It was a trait that both Fin and Jax had come to rely on. “Speaking of work, how’s it going?”

Fin took a deep breath. “Fine, I guess.” The words felt flat, even to him. He’d taken the college admin position as a stopgap, something to hold him over until he figured out where to pursue his graduate studies. It was the first time since he was a kid that he didn’t have a clear plan, and the uncertainty gnawed at him in quiet moments like this.

Toward the end of his studies in New England, money had become tight. He’d managed to finish his Master’s degree by taking a job at the college—not exactly the straight path he’d once envisioned, but it had been his only option at the time. He’d sacrificed so much to make it this far, focusing entirely on reaching his goals and tuning out everything else. But now, staring at a future that felt increasingly murky, Fin couldn’t shake the creeping suspicion that all his effort might not lead anywhere at all.

“It doesn’t sound like it’s fine.” Molly’s voice was soft, her brown eyes steady and full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“I mean,” Fin began, hesitating as he spun his cup in slow circles on the worn tabletop. Finally, he drained the last sip of his beer and signaled Tammy for another. “It just feels like... I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. What’s it all worth, you know?”

Jax tilted his head, letting the question settle like the foam of a freshly poured drink. “What’s it all worth?” he repeated, his sunglasses slipping down the slope of his nose. He pushed them back up with a casual flick of his finger, leaning forward. “That’s the question, isn’t it? The nine-to-five grind, the endless hustle with no guarantees. What are we even chasing?”

He paused, drumming his fingers on the scarred tabletop as he searched for the right words. “Look, man, I don’t have it figured out either. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s not about knowing. Maybe it’s about doing. About creating.”

Jax gestured in the air as if sketching an invisible masterpiece. “Taking what feels like nothing and making something meaningful out of it—that’s what I’m trying to do with my photos. Find the beauty in the grind, the story in the struggle.”

He took a long pull of his beer, setting the empty glass down with a soft thud. “But hey, what do I know? Maybe I’m full of it.” With a grin, he motioned to Tammy for another round. “Or maybe the answer’s at the bottom of the next drink.”

“I think what Jax means is that we’re here for you, Finny.” Molly translated Jax’ rambling. 

“Yeah, what she said.” Jax agreed warmly, smacking his lips after a swig of frothy beer.

Fin followed suit, taking a gulp of his dark stout—the perfect companion for the cold weather outside. “What about you, Molly? How are things? Your dad doing okay?”

Molly’s mom had been sick for years, her mind slipping away when Molly was just a teenager. Her dad had never asked for help, but she’d taken it upon herself to care for him. She made the meals, did the laundry, and cleaned the house. Most of the big decisions in her life had been made with Mr. Li in mind.

“He’s doing well. We had a scare a couple months back, though.” Molly’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He got really sick. Ended up in the hospital for a few days.”

“Really? What was it?” Fin asked, his brow furrowing.

“Don’t know. It came on fast and disappeared just as quickly. They said he was dehydrated and hooked him up to some fluids, but that’s about it.”

“Wow.” Fin shook his head. “Glad he’s okay.”

“It’ll take more than that to keep Mr. Li down,” Jax chimed in, leaning closer to be heard over the hum of an electric guitar buzzing through the bar’s sound system. The thump of a muffled drum and the bassist’s “Check, one, two” into a mic signaled the local band gearing up for their weekly set—a mix of country covers and tear-in-your-beer ballads that had made the Rusty Nail a neighborhood staple.

“We hear you just fine, sweetheart. Just don’t chase off my locals,” Tammy shouted from the bar, her voice cutting through the growing din.

“Lly, tell Fin about that creative studio you’ve been writing copy for,” Jax said, tapping his coaster on the table to the beat of a poorly executed Johnny Cash cover.

“What, the Gen 7 stuff?” Molly downplayed her contribution. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Come on, don’t do that,” Fin encouraged her. “Tell me about it. Gen 7’s working with some big acts.”

“No, no—I know it’s great,” Molly shrugged, “Super happy for the work…” She trailed off, unsure.

“What is it?” Fin pressed, sensing her hesitation.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, her voice dipping. “I just… It feels stupid.” She blushed, looking away.

“It’s not what you imagined you’d be writing,” Fin said, finishing her sentence. “Yeah, I get that.”

Molly paused, her fingers drumming nervously on her glass. “I’m really trying to be grateful,” she said, her eyes flicking to the stage as the band hit a particularly bad note. “Lord, this cover is really bad, right?” Her friends smiled in agreement, nodding. “I guess I just hoped I’d be writing something that meant more,” she continued, her voice tinged with frustration. “Something other than a clever ad for a studio, you know?”

“I get that,” Fin said, his voice softening. “You want to write something that actually matters.”

Molly nodded, relieved that someone understood her. She fiddled with her empty glass, then glanced up to meet Fin’s eyes. “I just want to write something raw. Something wild. Like the beat poets used to, you know? Every poem they wrote carried so much weight. It was like they believed it was the last thing anyone would ever read, and they owed it to them to make it as breathtakingly beautiful and unbearably tragic as they could. It felt real.”

Jax slammed his hand on the table, causing Fin and Molly to jump. Beer splashed out of his cup. “You know what I think?” He said, dragging out the moment. “I think we all need to take a road trip. Clear our heads a bit. Find our next story.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “A road trip, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jax said, his boyish grin turning into a full-fledged smile. “Why not?”

“Because we have jobs, Jax,” Fin interjected, his tone skeptical.

“Come on, Finny,” Jax said, leaning in with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Don’t they give you the summers off when the students aren’t in school?” He placed his tattooed hand on Molly’s shoulder. “And Molly, here, works remotely. What’s stopping us?”

“I could use a break,” Molly said, her face softening.

“You can’t be serious, Lly,” Fin crossed his arms, giving her a skeptical look. “Where would we even go?”

The band at the far end of the bar wrapped up a song just as Jax shouted, “Wherever we want!” For a moment, all eyes shifted toward the three of them. Jax quickly raised his hands in apology. “Sorry, sorry. Great job, guys!” he shouted to the band. “You guys sounded great.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dork. But Fin’s right—where would we go? And whose car would we take? We can’t all fit in Fin’s beater.”

Jax leaned back in his chair, tapping his finger on the table like he was cooking up something wild. “We take The Nomad.”

“No. No way we’re taking The Nomad,” Fin immediately protested.

Molly lifted her voice to cut through the chatter. “What the hell is The Nomad?”

Jax gave a dramatic grin. “It’s my dad’s Volkswagen bus. We’ll be like the old road-trippers. Nothing says freedom like a bus that’s seen some things.”

Fin’s face scrunched up in disgust. “We’re absolutely not taking The Nomad. It doesn’t even start half the time, and the seats are held together by a prayer.” He turned to Molly. “If anything, we’d take your Outback. It’s predictable. Like you.” He teased.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Molly shot back, narrowing her eyes.

Jax leaned in with a grin. “So, you’re in, huh?”

Fin shot him a look. “No, I didn’t say that. We’re not taking The Nomad or Molly’s Outback. I can’t just up and leave. I’ve got responsibilities, guys. Sorry, not gonna happen.”

A heavy silence descended on the table, thick like a wet blanket. The rowdy hum of drunk patrons singing loudly filled the gaps, but nobody spoke for a couple of minutes, each person lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Fin broke the quiet. “But if we were to go, where exactly would we go?”

Jax slammed his hand down on the table, his grin wide and infectious. “I knew it! You’re in!”

Fin raised his hands, defensive. “I didn’t say that, Jax. I’m just asking where you were thinking.”

Jax’s grin only grew. “We drive to The Grove,” he said, almost smugly.

Molly tilted her head. “The Grove?”

Jax’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned in. “We end up there, yeah. But it’s a journey. We’d spend the summer driving through the heartland, maybe head to the West Coast—Route 1, all that.” He tried to answer her question, but his answer was vague, like he was still figuring it out himself.

Molly wasn’t having it. “No. Hold up. What’s The Grove?”

Jax paused, as if the weight of her question had finally landed. The grin faded a little, replaced by something else—a quiet intensity. “Right. So… The Grove.” He straightened in his chair, eyes narrowing with excitement. “I did a shoot a few months ago with this guy—real hippy type, you know the kind, the ones that come off  the Appalachian trail. He told me about this place out in Moab, Utah. It’s a retreat, but not like one of those wellness retreats you see all over the internet. This is different.”

Molly leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Different how?”

Jax’s voice dropped, becoming more serious. “It’s the kind of place you go when you’re ready to confront everything you’ve been running from. If you’re looking for answers—real answers. The kind that hit you hard. It’s not about peace and quiet and yoga. It’s a place where you reckon with your demons.” He paused, watching them both closely, as if waiting for them to catch his drift.

Fin was skeptical, but couldn’t help himself. “And how did this guy know all this?”

Jax’s grin returned, this time with a more knowing edge. “I talked to the guy for hours. He and his partner went out there a couple of years ago. He said it changed them—like, changed them. They came back different. He said it was like taking the deepest breath of your life and realizing you’ve been holding it in for years. He said it wasn’t some ‘spiritual awakening,’ no. It was a reckoning.”

He let the words hang in the air, his eyes searching both Molly and Fin for any sign that they were starting to buy into it.

Fin broke the magic of the moment. “Jax, you need to stop hanging out with those crazy hippies. I know they’re fun, but they’ve done too many drugs, bud. Their minds are mush.” Fin stood and tossed some cash on the table. “Make sure Tammy gets this. Doesn’t look like she’s getting much in tips with this awful band playing tonight.”

The idea of The Grove had stirred something in Fin, something Jax and Molly could see in his eyes. He tried to hide it, but it was there. He hugged his friends quickly. “I’ll see you guys soon. I’m wiped from the week.”

“Fin,” Jax’s voice stopped him. “Think about it, okay?”

Fin nodded, his expression unreadable, then stepped out into the cold Virginia air.