Having Kevin around was fine – he wrote fridge poetry, turned the coffeemaker on, tidied up my shoes– but I missed my peace and quiet. I wanted space after the divorce, and a ghost, even a friendly one, wasn’t in the plan.
I sprinkled cloves and star anise onto the stove burner.
Exorcizamus te, I began, apologetically.
The next thing I heard was The Quiet.
Deanna knew two things about Julian: He shaved twice a day; and he kept a cat she had never seen (locked in the study, because Deanna was allergic).
Deanna hated that cat. It wailed plaintively no matter how much time Julian spent with it (bathing meticulously afterward). The cat goes or I do, she resolved. But when she let the veterinarian in, nothing was there.
I found her by the pond, as useless a mermaid as any. Piecemeal I bound her: finger-bones to fiddle-pegs, breastbone to sound post. I strung my bow with her hair. The wedding-march has begun: all that remains is to hear her sing. Her sister must have missed her voice.