This is all highly suspect to Ralph, who watches me from the bedroom doorway, narrowing his many eyes. He’s used to me sliding dust bunnies under the couch with a socked foot and pretending they aren’t there. This level of cleanliness must be alarming.
I realize I won’t be able to have him here tomorrow when Sam arrives. I also realize if I don’t show up at Sophie’s for our weekend hangout the second Saturday in a row, she’ll likely come here looking for me.
I can’t have that.
I decide that tomorrow morning I’ll swing by Sophie’s, drop off Ralph and make up an excuse to leave early, before Sam gets here. I’ll tell her that I’m behind on grading assignments or that I’m coming down with a cold.
I could also be up-front with her, tell her the truth. That’s probably the best course of action, but it also happens to be the most terrifying. She won’t approve, but I’m not sure what the extent of her disapproval will be, how wrathful her response.
I’ve been trying not to think about it.
I’ve been trying to focus on Sam.
I stay busy cleaning. I do laundry. I bake chocolate chip cookies. I pick out an outfit. My favorite jeans that make it look like I have an actual butt and a pink silk blouse that Sophie made for me. It’s pretty and feminine and a little sexy. I set the clothes out on my dresser.
I attempt to go to bed at a reasonable hour but am too excited to sleep.
I sit on the bench in my room and stare out the window at the moon.
* * *
—
In the morning, I spend an exorbitant amount of time in the shower. I shave everything. I scrub everything. I scour my body, buffing off layers of dead skin and drenching what remains in thick, creamy lotion.
I blow out my hair. I’m meticulous with my application of makeup. I can’t look like I’m trying too hard, but I can’t look like myself, either. I need to look much, much better.
All of this is very stressful for Ralph, who sits on the coffee table with a set of legs in his mouth, his eyes wide.
“I’m getting pretty,” I tell him.
This doesn’t seem to ease his worrying.
I haven’t put that much thought or effort into my appearance lately. My blow-dryer has accumulated dust. My foundation has solidified. Ralph’s never seen me go through this beautification process. He yelps when I take out my tweezers. I think he must view this all as a form of self-harm.
If I were to consider the merit of this concern, it would truly fuck up my day. And perhaps my life.
Instead, I ignore Ralph and carry on primping. At around ten a.m., I check my phone. Sam texted an hour ago saying he’s on his way. I would be nervous to see him, but currently all of my anxiety is tied up in having to face Sophie, who once openly admitted to me that she’s vengeful, who is adept with curses and, allegedly, using human remains to make tonics.
I take a few deep breaths. I put my wallet, phone and keys in my pockets and go to pick up Ralph.
He skitters backward, just out of my grasp. Poor thing. His adorable round face is twisted. He’s afraid.
To be fair, so am I. But I need to do this if I want my reunion with Sam to happen without any supernatural interference. I can’t have Ralph or Sophie jeopardizing my chance at a happy ending.
“Come on, buddy,” I coo. “We’re going to see Sophie.”
His expression relaxes, eyes light up at Sophie’s name. He hurries into my hand, nodding his little head from side to side.
“Sophie will be so glad to see you,” I tell him. “You’re such a good boy.”
He squeaks with excitement. I feel guilty for lying to him. He’s so innocent.
He taps my palm, points to the door.
“Right,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We’re off.”
It’s bitter cold out. I put Ralph in my coat pocket so he doesn’t freeze.
“You okay, buddy?” I ask, peeking in.
He nods, but I can see he’s shivering.
I hurry down Main Street, into the woods, past the well, the graves, the hut. Icicles drip from the collapsing roof of the hut, and they add a certain menace to it. A chill drags across the exposed skin of my neck. I should have worn a scarf.
The ground is slick in some spots, and I almost fall twice, Ralph yipping nervously.
“I got you,” I tell him. “You’re okay.”
When Sophie opens the door for us, I’m so winded all I want to do is to collapse at her feet.
“Come in, darling,” she says. “You’re frozen. Come. I’ve got a fire going. And I have something to show you. A surprise.”