by Chris Cannon
Jake was quiet for a moment and then he frowned. “Vi’s not sure it would work. She might not have enough life force to keep an empty body going.”
“So she’s a parasite?” I asked.
A strange growling sound came from Jake’s throat.
I hit the brakes a little harder than necessary at the stop sign and turned to him. “What the hell was that?”
“Vi doesn’t like that term.” He cleared his throat. “She’s more of a passenger.”
Okay. So apparently Vi had some sort of control over his body. Jake hadn’t been the one who growled at me. How could I make him see this wasn’t okay without Vi overhearing? I had no idea.
“So do you two kind of share your body’s actions?” I asked.
“No.” Jake didn’t sound sure of himself.
“So…you made a conscious decision to growl at me?”
He tilted his head to the right, like he was listening to the intruder in his brain. Then his posture relaxed and he reached over to take my hand. “No. It was an accident. She won’t do it again.”
Sure she wouldn’t. And then a disturbing thought occurred to me. “Not to be paranoid, but when we kiss, could Vi transfer over to me? Because I have enough issues right now.”
“She could,” Jake said. “But she won’t. That’s what I was doing this morning, negotiating ground rules. She’ll stay with me until we find another host. She promised she wouldn’t go after you or Aunt Zelda.”
“Good to know.” Not that I trusted Vi, but I didn’t want to stop kissing Jake, either. Hopefully, she’d honor their agreement. What would happen if we went to Carol’s and she gave him some holy water? Would that force Vi out? I’d have to ask Carol. Maybe we could come up with a plan.
“Do you still want to go to Zelda’s?” Jake wrapped his warm hand around mine and gave a light squeeze.
“Yes. While we’re researching how to break demonic contracts maybe we’ll find a way to transfer Vi to a willing host.”
“Let’s focus on one problem at a time. Bane.”
I pulled up to the library and parked near Jake’s truck.
“See you at Zelda’s?” he said, like he wasn’t sure if I was going.
I leaned over and pressed my mouth against his in a quick kiss. “Yes.”
I followed Jake out to his aunt’s house and was surprised to see several cars parked in the driveway. I met Jake on the sidewalk and pointed to the other vehicles. “Does your aunt have company, or are those customers?”
“Customers, I bet. She doesn’t usually have friends over.”
When we entered the front door, which led into the store, the shoppers turned to see who we were. Zelda smiled and waved at us from behind the cash register.
“Jake, can you check the deliveries for a box of healing crystals from Taos?”
“Sure.” He headed toward the storage room while I waited near the register. Had he told Zelda about his new ghostly friend? If he hadn’t, should I?
He returned from the storage room looking like his normal, not-possessed-by-anyone self. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes.” She took the package from him. “Thank you.”
She slid a letter opener under the seam of the brown paper and unwrapped it neatly, then folded the paper and tucked it under the counter before opening a cardboard egg carton. Inside the carton were different colored crystals nestled in tissue where the eggs should’ve been. She grabbed several and wrapped them in thin white paper before placing them in a jewelry box for the customer she was ringing up.
“Meena, can you and Jake go add the rest of these to the display?”
“Sure.” I took the box of sparkly rocks. Did these things actually have any power? I’d never believed in the power of crystals, but I’d never believed in demons, either, and they were frighteningly real, so who was I to judge?
We went over to a bookshelf stacked two deep with wooden bowls. Each bowl held different colored stones. There were green, red, brown, and a surprising number of purple stones. We put the easily identifiable crystals where they belonged, matching them by color and shape. There were a few that looked similar.
“Do you know which one is which?” I asked Jake, holding up two cloudy white rocks.
“No.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I’m not sure it makes a difference.”
We were thinking along the same wavelength. Good to know. He lifted his hand to my face like he planned to brush my hair back, but then he stopped before making contact. He backed up a step and paused like he was listening to something, or someone.
“The smooth one is opal.” He put the smooth one in the bowl with the other opals. Now that they were next to each other I could see they matched.
“Vi knew what it was?” I guessed.
“Yeah.”
Creepy yet useful. “So you have a supernatural Google in your head?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
Again with the annoyingly casual attitude. “If she’s still with you when we go back to school, she can help you ace your tests.”
His eyebrows came together. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“What?” Where had that mood change come from? “No. It was a joke because you have a secret voice in your head that knows things. I know you’re smart.”
He still seemed annoyed. What else could I say?
…
Jake
Maybe I was sensitive about people thinking I wasn’t smart because I didn’t want to go to college. I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to build things. People didn’t always have a lot of respect for guys who worked with their hands. Or they thought I wanted to go to trade school because it would be easier. They were wrong. I mean I wasn’t an Einstein, but I didn’t have to add on my fingers.
“Come on, Jake. Out of all the crap that has happened lately you don’t get to be pissy with me about a statement you took the wrong way.”
Where did she get off talking to me like that? “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Meena pressed her lips together in a thin line and backed up a step. “You’re right. I don’t.” She turned and headed for the door.
Shit. “Meena, wait.” I jogged a few steps to catch up with her and block her path. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes told me she was waiting for more. I reached for her hand. “Let’s go grab a root beer and look at some books.”
I tugged on her hand. At first she resisted, but then she came with me. Once we were alone in the room where my aunt kept her books, Meena’s expression was way too serious.
“Jake, what you said back there is true. I don’t know you that well. You don’t have to stay here. You can get away from demons and Bane and all the craziness of this town if you want to, and maybe you should.”
She’d forgotten one major thing. I pointed at my head. “Hello…spiritual hitchhiker on board. I’m pretty sure Crossroads is the only place I can find an answer about how to relocate Vi.”
Meena looked at her shoes as she spoke. “If you didn’t have your new friend, would you jet out of here as fast as you could?”
“No.” I pulled her closer. “This town might be infested with demons.” I leaned down and brushed my lips across hers. “But it has its perks.” And then I kissed her for real. She could have pushed me away and griped about what I said earlier, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned in, wrapping her arms around my neck.
This. This is what I needed to get my mind off the bizarre turn my life had taken. Meena was soft and her skin felt smooth and warm under my hands.
Someone cleared their throat and Meena froze. Damn it. I turned to see my aunt in the doorway.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think to knock. It’s been a while since there’s been anything romantic g
oing on in this house.”
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more awkward.
“I’m going to grab some wine.” She headed for the bar and grabbed a green glass bottle from the wine fridge. “Everyone’s picked up their orders, so I’m closing up shop to do some reading. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”
After she left, Meena headed over to the bar and grabbed two bottles of root beer from the refrigerator. “How was your aunt not embarrassed?” She handed one to me and then went to sit on the couch.
“I don’t know.” I twisted the cap off my bottle and took a drink before joining her.
“Maybe we should do some research?” she said like she wasn’t sure.
I wanted to shut my brain off for a while and I needed to reassure Meena I wasn’t going anywhere. “I have a better idea.” I leaned in and she met me halfway.
“You could do better than her,” Vi’s voice stated in my head. I tried to ignore her but somehow Meena knew.
“Did Vi say something?”
“Nothing important,” I said.
Meena raised her eyebrows at me, like she expected me to confess. Nope. “We’re in a no-talking zone.”
“Really?” she said. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t make the rules,” I said. “I just follow them.” Pulling her close, I kissed the spot right below her ear. Her breath caught and then she sighed.
“Words bad,” she agreed.
I felt a spike of irritation from Vi, but she didn’t interrupt us again.
Chapter Nine
Meena
On the drive home I contemplated what I’d need to make for dinner. But then I remembered we still had spaghetti left over from last night. Score. Now I’d have time to veg out with a book and my cats.
Several chapters into my latest read my stomach growled. I checked the time on my cell. Dad must be running late. My stomach said it was time for food. I made a bowl of spaghetti and ate it cold. Yum. Most people liked cold pizza. I never understood why they had issues with cold spaghetti. It was carbs and red sauce with meat and cheese just like pizza.
Pumpkin and Marshmallow agreed with my theory, because they sat on the kitchen table watching every bite I took. When the bowl was half empty, Pumpkin reached out and put his paw on the lip of the bowl and then not so sneakily pulled it toward himself.
“Excuse me.” I pulled the bowl back to its original spot. I’d share when I was done.
“Meowowow.” Pumpkin thought it was his turn already.
“In a minute.”
Marshmallow glanced at the bowl but didn’t try to steal it. She was far more polite or maybe just more secure in her place on the food hierarchy. Pumpkin had been known to take a bite of my sandwich at the same time I did. He was always so casual about it, like he thought taking a bite while I literally had the other side of the sandwich in my mouth was acceptable feline behavior.
I ate two more forkfuls and decided I was done. “Now it’s your turn.” I spooned some out onto the table for Marshmallow and gave Pumpkin the bowl. My dad wouldn’t have approved, but I’d wipe the table down before he came home. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
I’d just cleaned off the table when my cell rang. My dad’s name appeared on the screen. “Hey, Dad. I already ate, but I saved some spaghetti for you.”
“Do you know what day it is?” he asked.
“Wednesday?” I didn’t pay much attention to the day or the dates in the summer because I preferred to be blissfully unscheduled.
There was a beat of silence. I wondered if the call had dropped. “Dad?”
“It’s your mom’s birthday.”
Guilt made my stomach clench. “Are we going to visit her?”
“Yes. I’m picking up a cake and then I’ll come get you. Be there in twenty.”
“Sounds great,” I lied. The only response to my fake cheer was the dial tone. Shit. Shit. Shit. We used to visit my mom every weekend, hoping she’d wake up. As the odds of that happening became less and less, so did our visits. And that made me feel like a terrible person. The guilt I felt now would soon be followed by anger. Anger at the mental disorder that had taken my mother from me. Anger at my mom because she hadn’t believed we were worth fighting for. And a new recently added layer of anger at Bane for tempting my dad to trade his life for hers.
After the anger subsided, the fear would set in. It was a fun cycle.
I’d spent a fair amount of time googling any and all information about bipolar disorders. The last I read there were no biological markers for it. Would I feel better if I knew that I was biologically screwed? Some days I thought it might be better to know…like I could prepare myself somehow.
I knew one thing: if I did develop it, I was going to take my medication. I would not do what my mother did. Maybe it was true that people who committed suicide felt they had no other option and supposedly their pain stopped, but the pain for the family members left behind never went away. For the first few weeks after my dad had found my mom unconscious in their bed, he kept talking to himself about how he should have seen what was happening and been able to stop it. I kind of think if someone decides it’s time to check out, there might not be much you can do to help them.
Marshmallow sensed my mood. She came over and went nose to nose with me. “Hey there, kitty.” I ran my hand over her soft fur.
The sound of the car pulling up the driveway had the cats running for the door. When my dad honked instead of coming in, both of the cats’ ears swiveled backward and flattened against their heads. A sure sign of cat irritation.
“We won’t be gone long.” I let myself out the door and headed for my dad’s black Honda Accord. It was the quintessential boring family sedan.
I climbed in the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. “Hey, Dad.”
“Grab the cake.” He pointed at the white pastry box on the dashboard.
“Sure.” I put the box in my lap and peeked inside. The cake was shaped like a yellow smiley face, except the smile was gone. In its place was a straight line. What the heck? “Is this a passive-aggressive birthday cake?”
“I asked the girl at the bakery to change it. Taking a smiley cake to a vegetative woman seemed wrong. And there isn’t an I-love-you-but-I’m-mad-at-you-for-destroying-our-life cake.”
If there was any way to make this more uncomfortable I think we just found it. I decided to sidestep that emotionally charged statement and went with small talk instead. “What flavor is it?”
“The top layer is chocolate and the bottom one is vanilla.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Her favorite.”
“Why pick one flavor when there is room for two?” my dad repeated what my mom had always said about birthday cakes.
Tears filled my eyes, and I turned my head away so I was looking out the window. “Will this ever stop sucking?”
“No.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence. I watched families driving by. A lot of the drivers appeared annoyed. Sometimes I wanted to smack other people and say, “Stop bitching about what your husband or wife doesn’t do. Be happy that you still have them alive and breathing and functional.” Maybe one day I’d act on that instinct.
When we pulled up to the nursing home, my stomach dropped. I hated this place. Really, really hated it. Time to suck it up, buttercup. I took a deep breath and blew it out. On the bright side, there was cake. So…I could do this.
“Half an hour, and then we’ll leave,” my dad said.
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure me or himself. The more I thought about this mess, the more I realized how truly awful this was for my father. His wife had abandoned him, leaving him to deal with three traumatized daughters. She’d attempted to kill herself with a prescription he’d filled for her and that he’d insisted she take. Not for the first tim
e, I wondered if we’d all be happier if she’d managed to finish the job and that made me feel like a spectacularly shitty human being.
Dad had put on a brave face for me in the past, so I could put on a brave face for him now. When we entered the nursing home the scent of urine and feces assaulted my nostrils. I know the staff did their best to keep the place clean, and everyone seemed well taken care of, but when dozens of patients wore adult diapers, there wasn’t much you could do to mask the stench.
The receptionist behind the desk nodded at us. “I thought I’d be seeing you two tonight.”
My dad nodded. “June tenth…Emma’s birthday.”
“Sign in, and I’ll get you some passes.” After my dad signed in, I set the cake on the counter and scrawled my own name on the visitor sheet. I accepted the lanyard that the receptionist gave me and slid it over my head before grabbing the cake.
On the walk to my mom’s room, I kept a fake smile on my face and said hello to anyone who made eye contact. I wanted to look at the floor, but some of these people lit up when you acknowledged them, so it felt like the right thing to do. When we made it to the doorway of my mother’s room, I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was coming but it never worked.
We stepped across the threshold and there she was…lying on the bed attached to monitors and tubes. The monitors were disturbing enough. The tubes I didn’t want to contemplate. It was weird how most of her brain had shut down, leaving just enough for her to remember to breathe. Her body kept chugging along, even though her mind was gone. Occasionally she opened her eyes and stared at nothing. When that first happened we thought she might be coming out of it but that wasn’t the case. The doctors claimed minor twitches like smiles and arm movements were random reflexes. I found them deeply disturbing and cruel.
“Happy Birthday, Emma,” my dad managed to say in an almost cheery tone.
“We brought your favorite kind of cake.” My voice broke at the end.
“We love you but this sucks,” my dad said.
My mouth fell open, and then I laughed.
“What? I didn’t think I had to pretend to be okay with this situation anymore.”
