“I’m not moping,” I mutter, knowing that’s exactly what I’m doing.
When Fiona turns to walk away, I say, “Would it be okay if I asked you for some personal advice?”
Surprised, she turns back to me. “Of course. What is it?”
I exhale and drag my hands through my hair. Leaning over, I prop my forearms on my thighs and stare at the carpet while I gather my thoughts. “When someone says they’re giving you space, but you don’t want the space they’re trying to give, how do you handle that?”
“You mean they’ve closed a door, but you want it to open?”
I nod, liking that imagery.
When I glance up to meet her gaze, hers is soft and sympathetic. She says gently, “My dear girl. You knock.”
Just then, the doorbell rings.
Fiona smiles. “Or you ring the bell. I’ll get it.”
When she turns and walks away, I call after her, “There won’t be anybody there!”
“One never knows,” she says, chuckling as if she’s enjoying some private joke. She leaves the room. A few moments later, she returns, shaking her head.
“Well, you were right. There was nobody there.” She pauses, staring at me meaningfully. “That I could see, anyway.”
I groan and drop my head into my hands. “Okay. You win. We’ll do the séance.”
The doorbell rings again. The television turns itself on, volume thunderous. From the hallway comes the distinct pop of a light bulb exploding in one of the fixtures.
Fiona says somberly, “I think that’s a very good idea.”
33
Dear Dante,
Thank you for the advice. I must say, however, it was shitty.
“You are the storm. What are your thunder and lightning telling you?” Was that really supposed to be helpful? Because it wasn’t.
Please forgive the rudeness, but my life is falling apart. Correction, it already fell apart. I’m just wandering around in all the broken pieces, kicking up dust and cutting my feet on shards of glass.
And by the way, what was that whole thing about the love that turned the stars and the wheels? That was confusing as hell. As a matter of fact, all your letters have been confusing. I still don’t know what you want from me or why you decided we should be pen pals or how you even found me in the first place.
I hardly know what’s real and what isn’t anymore. I don’t even know if these letters are real. Maybe I’m staring at the wall in my locked room in a mental institution, conjuring all this up in my head? That’s what it feels like, anyway. I feel like I let go of the rope that tied me to a dock, and now I’m drifting alone far out at sea in a leaking raft that’s being circled by hungry sharks. And the wind is picking up. And it’s starting to rain.
I’m drowning, Dante. I’m drowning.
What I really need right now is a life jacket.
Kayla
34
Fiona informs me that the full moon is tomorrow night, so we can conduct the séance right away. She tells me I’m lucky we can get it done so quickly.
I don’t feel lucky. I feel cursed. I don’t say that aloud, however, because I don’t want to tempt fate into proving it.
I spend the rest of that day and the next in a state of high anxiety, every so often glancing at my left hand. I’m surprised each time to find my wedding band still there on my ring finger.
Aidan was correct when he guessed that I’d taken it off right before I answered his text. I won’t lie to him again, so I had to get creative. But I put it back on when he didn’t answer me, and I still can’t figure out why.
Though I’d never admit it to him, something felt wrong when I took off that ring.
It felt as if the house itself sucked in a breath of horror.
Which is obviously a figment of my overwrought imagination, but that’s how it felt. At some point over the past few months, the house has become more than simply a collection of rooms under a leaky roof. It’s taken on a presence I can physically feel.
This house has a pulse, and its dark heart beats for me.
I think it wants something.
I think it’s trying to send me a message.
Another blue jay committed suicide on my office window. It felt symbolic, so I looked up the meaning of a dead blue jay online. Yes, I’m now so desperate, I’m hitting up the internet for help. Anyway, it turns out those particular birds have strong spiritual associations and were often considered by Native Americans to be messengers from the gods. Seeing one is supposed to bring good luck.
Unless it’s dead, in which case it means that you’re running away from your problems.