I press both hands over my face, careless of the way it smears grave dirt on my cheeks. God. God.
“I’m not digging up that grave,” I say.
“Fine, then we won’t. It was only a suggestion.”
Ellis takes the shovel back where she found it, and I stay there, my feet planting roots in the earth. This time in Ellis’s absence, the air is colder. I feel Alex’s ghost like breath on the back of my neck.
Maybe Ellis is right. I am crazy. Just like my mother.
We drive back to the car agency in relative silence, Ellis’s gloved thumb tapping against the wheel and my hands gripping my knees.
It’s past two by the time we’re home, but as late as it is, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.
“Are you okay?” Ellis asks once we’re back inside Godwin House, lingering on the second-floor landing. The light from the overhead lamp casts odd shadows on her face. “I didn’t mean to push you. I wasn’t trying to—”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt. “Sorry. I just…”
Why am I apologizing? Of course I didn’t want to exhume my ex-girlfriend’s grave. Ellis is the one who should be asking forgiveness.
Even so, I can’t find the nerve to say as much. I chew at my lip and brace my back against the wall, both arms wrapped around my stomach. Ellis’s thumb scrapes at the finish on the stair banister.
“Look,” Ellis says at last. “I only want to help. You know that, right?”
I stare at her in silence.
“You already knew that grave’s empty. I thought this would give you closure. I want you to understand…I can’t keep seeing you torture yourself like this.”
“Well, I’m sorry it’s so painful for you,” I snap. It feels like I’m biting the words off a sheet of ice. “Seeing me. Like this.”
“Felicity—”
“I’m going to bed.”
I take the stairs up to the third floor two at a time and kick my door shut so hard it slams. I brace, anticipating the rap of Alex’s broom handle against the floor.
But it never comes. Alex’s ghost, if it exists, doesn’t care about noise.
The only thing down there, I tell myself, is Ellis Haley.
And Ellis Haley can go fuck herself.
My intent beinge only to construct a School for Young Ladies, a Place of refuge and education in Etiquette, soe these imperiled Young Ladies might prove usefull to Society and to God.
—Deliverance Lemont, accused Witch and founder of Dalloway School Bury my bones deep, that I might feel the flames of Hell.
—Last words of Margery Lemont, buried alive in the year 1714; recorded by those present at her burial
I’m on my bed, paging through my well-worn copy of I Capture the Castle, when my phone rings.
It takes me a moment to realize what the sound is. It’s been over a week since I’ve used my phone; for the most part I’ve left it plugged into the outlet behind my desk and forgotten about it. But now I dig it out from where it’s fallen, between my trash bin and the wall, and thumb open the screen.
“Mom?”
“—humidity levels really must be checked every day…Oh, Felicity? Is that you?”
I sit in my desk chair. “Of course it’s Felicity. You’re the one who called me, remember?”
My mother’s still in France. It sounds windy on the other end of the line; I imagine her on a yacht off the coast of Nice, wearing a beige sundress and ordering the staff to bring her more drinks. It’s still November, even in Nice, but I can almost imagine my mother’s money going so far as to buy good weather, God herself susceptible to Morrow bribes.
“Oh, right…Well. Dr. Ortega thought it might be a good idea if I checked in on you, now that the semester’s getting on…” Almost over is what she means. Dr. Ortega probably told her to call me weeks ago.
I stay silent. Another gust of wind, loud through the speaker.
“So how have you been, honey?”
My mother has never in her life used pet names.
“Fine. Everything’s fine.”
“You’re sure? I just mean, Dr. Ortega said you haven’t been checking in with her like you were supposed to.”
So my mother is still in contact with Dr. Ortega. I can’t decide if I’m more surprised—my mother has never taken such a close interest in my well-being before—or irritated.
“I’ve been busy,” I say. “I have a lot of work to do, actually, I should—”
“Are you coming home for Thanksgiving? I should be back stateside by then.”