“Oh,” she says. A coldness sweeps across her face. All of the color and kindness about her drains in an instant. Then an inkling of a smirk appears at the corner of her mouth. “All right, pet.”
In spite of my doubts, I don’t want her to be mad at me. It’s a horrible feeling. It’s unbearable.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Maybe next weekend.”
“Maybe,” she says, gathering her cloak. “Maybe.”
She leans toward me and clamps her hand around my chin. She looks at me, through me. I feel her gaze deep in the back of my skull.
Then she kisses me gently on the forehead.
She runs the back of her hand along my cheek. She turns to leave. She’s at the door when she stops and says, “I almost forgot.”
She reaches into the dark depths of her cloak.
“I brought a gift.”
She produces a black satin pouch.
“For a very good boy.”
She sets the pouch down on the coffee table and leaves without another word.
When I hear the second door shut, I get up and go to the front window to watch her walk down the street. I wait until she disappears before I collapse back onto the couch with a big sigh of relief.
Ralph is on the coffee table peeking into the black satin pouch.
“What you got there?” I ask him.
I look. It’s dead flies.
“You’re spoiled,” I tell him, pouring out a few.
I watch him eat. When he’s done, he gives a little burp and promptly falls asleep on the arm of the couch.
I get up and drink some water. I eat peanut butter on bread while standing in the kitchen, willing my hangover to subside.
I return to the couch, licking peanut butter from my fingers.
I check my phone.
I have a message from Sam. It reads Annie.
Yes, I reply.
I really do miss you.
Ralph stirs at the sound of the text, but then yawns and rolls over onto his back, snoozing through it. Which is lucky, because he’s usually very diligent about policing any communication I have with Sam.
I take my phone into the bedroom and close the door as quietly as possible. I get in bed under the covers. I read and reread the texts.
What would it be like if Sam and I had never broken up? If we decided to work on things. If we sought couples counseling. Why didn’t we do that? Why didn’t I ask? Why was I so afraid to fight for what I wanted?
In some other timeline, in some alternate reality, I’m back in our apartment and we’re waiting for takeout, watching old cartoons. We’re playing with each other’s hands like we used to when we first started dating.
Why did we ever stop doing that, and why did it become so impossible to start again?
Maybe these months apart have been good for us. Maybe he’s learned to appreciate me, and I’ve learned how to be more self-sufficient, and maybe now things will work.
Maybe my time in Rowan was just a weird, short chapter in my life that I can close and never open again. Never have to think about the people in town arguing about whether or not I’m a threat. Never have to worry about Sophie, about random ghost attacks, or curses, or tripping on mushroom tea. I could just forget it. Leave and not look back.
I’m here, I text Sam. You can call me anytime.
Like now?
Yes.
I get up and lock the door to the bedroom. I stuff a sweater in the gap between the bottom of the door and the floorboards so Ralph doesn’t come crawling in.
For an increased sense of privacy, I sit inside my closet in the narrow space between my suitcase and my dirty clothes. I close the closet door and sit in darkness, waiting for Sam to call.
What if he doesn’t call? What if I just locked myself in my own closet for nothing?
The fear doesn’t have time to marinate. My phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Annie,” he says. His voice reaches through the phone and takes my heart in its fist. It hurts. It really hurts.
“Hey, Sam.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good.” I search for something cute and clever to say but come up short. “I . . . I cut my hair.”
“You did?”
“Yep.”
“How short?”
“Pretty short. It’s at my shoulders now.”
“I bet it looks good,” he says.
“Yeah? How much you want to bet?”
“Seventy thousand dollars.”
“Yes, but how much in gold?”
“Bars or doubloons?”
“Pfft. Doubloons, Sam. Don’t you know me at all? Always doubloons.”