Dead to Her

by Sarah Pinborough

  “Tonight we dance!” the old woman bellowed, the rich voice that defied her age commanding Keisha’s attention back. “We call on them to dance with us! The spirits! The ghosts! The great Doctor John, old John Bayou!” A cheer went up, a sea of arms rising above heads, bare feet stamping on grass. “The queen, the mother Laveau, and her daughters! Let the ghosts weave among us!” She banged her cane again three times, and the crowd once again echoed her, this time chanting as they did so, “Faith! Hope! Charity! Li Grand Zombi!”

  Keisha felt the hum of it in her soul, this earthy religion they were practicing, part what Auntie Ayo believed, part something old and Southern, and part something all its own, and she gazed at the woman on the stage. She was not like Auntie Ayo. She was not hiding in secret, practicing dark, forbidden magic. This woman, this priestess, was worshipped. Adored. There was love here. Keisha could feel it. Perhaps this was the yin to Auntie Ayo’s yang. Good goes to good, and bad goes to bad. That made her shiver in the heat. Could this woman sense Keisha was wrong? Cursed? Damaged? An outsider, even in this crowd.

  For a moment, as the crone scanned the congregation from on high, her ancient dark eyes, embedded in those fat cheeks, met Keisha’s own, and fire seared her veins. She was seeing her. Really seeing her.

  The old woman laughed, throaty and amused, just as she had in the square when they had thought her mad, and then she lifted her arms, the cane held as high as the snakes behind her, the carved serpent handle gleaming bright, and called out, “Tonight he grants your hearts’ desires! Now Dansé Calinda! Badoum! Badoum! Bring the spirits joy!”

  With that, the flames burst magnesium white, rushing skyward, and when they faded, she and the two women behind her were gone, as if they had been ghosts themselves. The music roared back to life, no drums this time but instead bursting from speakers, and Keisha felt a surge of energy.

  There had been more in the punch than just rum, and from the slight rushing tingles on her skin and the smooth joy that filled her, she’d guess a dash of liquid MDMA. It should have bothered her that it had been spiked but it didn’t. Everyone had shared. It was communion wine. She felt blissful. At one with everything.

  “What was that?” Marcie was startled, disconcerted, if a little hazy from the drink taking hold. “Voodoo shit? That woman from the square again.” She was looking around the bonfire as if willing the woman to appear. Those women with the snakes . . . I was sure that . . .” She frowned, confused, and drank some more.

  “Stop thinking,” Keisha said, pulling her close and swaying to the music. This time she reached for Marcie, kissing her again, her heart alive. He grants your hearts’ desires! It was a sign. Everything was going to go just how she wanted. Billy would be dead soon and she’d be free and rich and have love. Maybe Auntie Ayo was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t cursed. Maybe she was blessed. She could feel it.

  “Oh my God,” Marcie said. “Look at everybody.”

  Keisha turned. Bathed in firelight, the revelers were still dancing, but they were also entwining, hands touching and pulling at clothes as mouths met, a hand on one person, lips on another, clothes peeling off and being abandoned as bodies became joined. Keisha’s mouth dried slightly, the heat she suddenly felt nothing to do with the fire or the night air.

  “Aren’t you going to join in?” The voice made her jump, and she turned to see Daria, hand held in Jade’s as Laz drew them into the mass of people. She kissed him, and as his hand slid under her T-shirt, Jade’s joined it, pushing the thin fabric up, exposing her pale breasts. Daria broke away from the kiss to pull Jade in closer, one last grin at Keisha and Marcie, and then the three of them were on the ground, lost in their own moment, absorbed into the sea of flesh.

  “Maybe we should go,” Marcie said. Her words were breathy and her eyes were fixed on the seething mass of bodies licking and sucking and sighing and fucking in front of them, lost in their own worlds, filled with sensory, heady pleasure, simply being and enjoying one another. If there was a God or the spirits, surely this was what they wanted from people. This joy?

  Keisha gently kissed Marcie’s neck, tracing her tongue along her skin, breathing heat onto her until she groaned, her head tilting backward, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Keisha’s fingers slipped under the straps of the delicate glittering dress and slid them down Marcie’s arms. “Maybe we should stay,” she whispered, as Marcie’s skin goose-pimpled under her touch. As they dropped to the ground, hands exploring each other, Marcie didn’t argue.

  Part Two

  Epigraph

  I walk on gilded splinters,

  I want to see what they can do!

  Translation of an old Creole song

  26.

  Marcie’s limbs ached from being out all night, falling asleep in the grass amid strangers’ bodies, waking up cold and barely dressed before smoking their last joint and grabbing an Uber home at dawn. But now as she slowly woke a few hours later from the sleep of the dead in her own bed, even the aches were blissful. She luxuriated in Keisha’s touch, shivering as the other woman slid down under the sheets, hands on the insides of Marcie’s thighs, opening her up. As her mouth made contact, Marcie gasped.

  It was all so different. Sex in a mirror, not up against one. Reflection, not objectification. Soft skin on soft skin, no rough stubble chafing her, no demand for noise and validation. They understood each other’s bodies. Inexperienced in this kind of sex as Marcie was, she’d still known how to please Keisha. How to find the right spot. How fast or slow to move. Just how hard to bite down on her nipples. How to tease her. This was sex among equals. This was not a battle, even when biting skin or tugging on hair.

  One hand went to her own breast as Keisha’s mouth and fingers worked at her until bright stars moved across the backdrop of her closed eyes and her whole body shuddered. She sighed and let out a half-laugh as Keisha returned to her arms, breast against breast as they relaxed into each other. How strange this was. Ridiculous. Crazy. It couldn’t continue, of course, and would have to be simply a weekend of madness, but at the same time it was so glorious she didn’t want it to end. She felt so free.

  Her eyes were bleary and she pressed her face into Keisha’s shoulder to keep out the sunlight before giggling again. Keisha was in Jason’s bed. This was so far from how he’d probably imagined it, but still, she thought, amused, Be careful what you wish for, Jason Maddox.

  “What’s so funny?” Keisha asked.

  “Nothing. Everything.”

  “Isn’t it strange”—Keisha rolled onto her back, looking up at the ceiling—“how people find each other? Like you and me? There was a girl back home—Dolly—but I didn’t love her. Not really. She was hard as nails. Too many sharp edges to her heart. But with you, with you I just knew that if I—if we—got a chance to get together, it would be amazing.”

  “Let’s not forget that we’re both married,” Marcie said.

  “Minor detail. We could always leave them. Take a settlement and run.” Keisha said it lightly, but Marcie’s stomach constricted.

  “Ha, I can imagine that. Both of us working in some club or diner, too poor to party, too tired to screw. Resenting each other.”

  “That’s what I like best about you, Marcie, your positive outlook on life.”

  They both smiled and then lay in comfortable silence for a while, Marcie tempted to doze some more. It had been forever since she’d had a lazy, decadent day of sex and laughter in bed.

  “When Billy dies, I’ll be a rich widow,” Keisha said. “You’ll want me then.”

  “All the girls will want you then.” Marcie rolled over, grinning. “The boys too. I’ll have to fight them off to get to you. Or you’ll take all his money and run back to London and the bright lights of the big city.”

  “No.” Keisha’s face clouded. “I’ll never go back there.” She glanced sideways at Marcie. “Did you make a wish last night?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “At the thing. What the old woman s
aid. Dr. John will grant your heart’s desire.” She said the last in an exaggerated dramatic voice, but she didn’t look like she’d found it funny.

  “Don’t tell me you believe all that?” It was quite sweet to see this side of Keisha more and more. A little fragile. Childlike. Not so confident as she appeared.

  “My family do.”

  Marcie sat up. “Really? Voodoo? In London?”

  Keisha shrugged, awkward. “Something similar. It’s all from African heritage after all. Ours was darker maybe. I guess seeing that woman like that last night, and everyone celebrating and so happy, it kind of spoke to me. Showed me the light side. So joyful. Magical. I’d never seen that before. But still . . . it scares the shit out of me.” She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear, an endearing gesture, and as the sun cut through the shutters she looked breathtakingly beautiful.

  For once, Marcie’s awe wasn’t tinged with jealousy, only pure fascination. The novel strangeness of her situation. She couldn’t imagine having sex with any other woman—sex with women, faceless strangers, had only ever been a rare fantasy, nothing she’d ever wanted to actually do with anyone—but with Keisha she felt electrified and insatiable. She wanted to explore and explore and explore. Make the most of it before the inevitable end. This was something she had entirely for herself. A new secret.

  When had she last felt like this? Jason, the early days. She’d even had the same thought. To get as much of him as she could before it was all over. But she’d fallen in love with Jason. He’d been her promise of a good future. Money. Comfort. Security. And maybe finally in her life, some respect. Could she now be falling in love with Keisha? What did she promise? Decadent freedom? Rebellion against them all and their constant quiet rejection of her in their inner circle?

  “I saw a ghost when I was little,” Keisha said, staring into the distance, her voice soft. “In my auntie’s house. A boy. A boy who wasn’t there.”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Marcie said.

  “Uncle Yahuba beat me when I said I’d seen him. Auntie Ayo said it was a sign I was cursed. Crazy like my mother. They told me never to think of it again. They put me on Valium when I was about thirteen. Been on it ever since. It helps.”

  Marcie leaned forward and kissed her again. “There’s no such thing as ghosts,” she repeated. “Only tricks of the light and memory. Now let’s make the most of our morning, and no more crazy talk.”

  Keisha smiled, shaking her thoughts away, and suddenly she was bright and happy again, her mouth on Marcie’s as her back arched with desire. Mercurial, that’s what her moods were, Marcie decided. Light and dark and back again in an instant. Jason had been right. She was refreshing. The ring of Marcie’s cell phone cut through the moment, and she groaned as she looked at the screen. “It’s Elizabeth. What the hell can she want?”

  “A threeway?” Keisha raised an eyebrow and Marcie snorted a half-laugh. “Come on, don’t answer it.” Keisha brushed her mouth over Marcie’s exposed nipple. “Ignore her.”

  Despite the tingle of pleasure, Marcie couldn’t. Elizabeth calling was a dark cloud against the sunshine—a reminder of the real world. She hit the answer button.

  “Hey, Elizabeth. What’s up?”

  “Sorry to bother you, but I tried Keisha’s cell and it’s going straight to voice mail. Is she with you?”

  “Uh, yeah, we went out last night and she stayed over.” Marcie’s skin burned as if she sounded as guilty as she felt. It was ridiculous. Women had sleepovers all the time when their husbands were away, there was nothing suspicious about it, but still she felt so transparent. “I guess she ran out of battery.” She looked at Keisha, who retrieved her phone from where it had been tossed somewhere on the floor with her clothes, checked it, and nodded.

  “Oh, I see,” Elizabeth continued. “It’s just that Julian and Pierre are here. When they got no answer at the main door, they buzzed Zelda, who let them in and then called me. We were all a bit worried! Aren’t you supposed to be having a brunch with them today? To plan the party?”

  “Oh God, yes!” Julian and Pierre. How could she have forgotten? Another rope of control slipping through her fingers. She needed to get a grip. “What time is it?”

  “One thirty.”

  “I’m so so sorry. Can you ask Zelda to get them some drinks? We’ll be there as fast as we can.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Zelda’s got family here and I don’t want to disturb her any more. It’s her weekend off.”

  Was that a reproach? They probably deserved it, to be fair. “I’m so sorry, Elizabeth,” she repeated.

  “Don’t worry, I wasn’t busy. I’ll rustle something up or order in and see you when you get here.”

  “Thank you, thank you. And please apologize to Zelda for me.” She hung up. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

  “What?” Keisha said.

  “Come on, get dressed. We’ve got to go.” Her heart thumped hard. Marcie Maddox did not miss brunches. She was always on time. Under control. Aware that any slipup was simply a validation that she didn’t truly belong here. She couldn’t let everything unravel because of this Englishwoman. Yet still she ached between her thighs, irritated at the interruption to their languid day. “Now!” she said, as Keisha didn’t move. “We’re supposed to be party planning.” If it was already nearly two, Jason and William would be back before long. Early evening, she was sure he’d said they were landing. God, she probably wouldn’t even have time to change the sheets.

  She yanked a dress from her closet and pulled it on before quickly making the bed. Would it smell of sex? Perfume? She thought of spraying deodorant on it and decided not to. It was men who caused the stink of sex anyway. Like dogs having to make their mark.

  “Oh fuck, I totally forgot,” Keisha said, tugging her party dress over her head and down to her knees. “There was something weird last night.”

  Looking at her, Marcie wanted to moan again and this time it was nothing to do with pleasure. There was dirt on it from where they’d screwed in the clearing. And she was pretty sure she could see a small tear in the fabric. This was not going to look good. She’d lend Keisha something if her clothes would have fit, but she was at least three inches taller than Marcie and there was no way her glorious tits were going to fit into any of Marcie’s tops.

  “There was plenty weird last night,” she said, only half-listening. “What specifically?” She hadn’t realized how hungover she was until she’d stood up. Not hungover exactly, but something similar. What exactly had been in that stupid rum punch?

  “Zelda. You know, I’d forgotten till just now, but I thought I saw her last night for a second. It was someone I kind of recognized anyway. At the rave. A familiarity about them. Can’t remember properly now. It’s all a bit hazy.”

  A vague memory scratched the surface of Marcie’s consciousness. Hadn’t she thought she’d recognized someone for a moment too? One of the women holding a snake. Could that have been Zelda? Last night? Marcie’s guts turned to ice water. Oh God, if Zelda had been there, what did she see? Suddenly freedom didn’t seem such a great idea. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Don’t look so worried!” Keisha said. “I was high. It could have been anyone. I didn’t even see her face, it was just the way she moved that reminded me of someone, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Marcie forced a bright smile on her face. “Let’s go.” She steadied her breathing. It wouldn’t have been Zelda. She knew that. It was coincidence enough that they’d ended up at the same place as the crazy woman from Wright Square, there was no way Zelda could have been there too. And all the stuff that went on—the drinking, the sex—that wasn’t exactly the kind of party you’d take relatives who were visiting to.

  But still, pulling her shades on to protect her thumping head from the bright day, just the thought of someone they knew being there had shaken her. This whole thing was madness, she told herself for the thousandth time. It had to stop. Under the lust and the crazi
ness, she was filled with a sense of foreboding. If this didn’t end soon it would wreck everything. Her marriage, Jason’s job, everything she’d worked so hard to have. If this came out it would humiliate William. He would never stand for that and it would be Marcie who took the brunt of the punishment. She’d signed a prenup before marrying Jason—she hadn’t wanted to, but she’d had no choice—and she might not be broke if they divorced but she sure wouldn’t have the fancy life she had now.

  She took a deep breath as they slid into the car. It would be fine. She’d talk to Keisha about it later and she’d understand it had to end. She wasn’t going to want to lose everything either. Her phone buzzed, a text coming in as she started the engine. “Okay Elizabeth,” she muttered, irritated. “We’re coming.”

  “Well, we would have been if she hadn’t called,” Keisha said, with a laugh. Marcie didn’t join in as she stared at her phone. It wasn’t Elizabeth. It was Jason. All good here, but missing you and looking forward to being home. Sorry I’ve been so moody. J xx

  Why did he have to send that now? It was time to get her life back under control. She had to break whatever spell Keisha had cast on her. She had to. She had to.

  27.

  “Well, looks like someone already had the party,” Pierre purred as Keisha raced up the stairs to get into fresh clothes. Marcie poked him in the ribs, keeping her smile bright.

  “She fell over on our way back to the house. We weren’t even drunk. It was a relatively sedate night if you must know. But that is why I don’t wear four-inch heels anymore.”

  “I can barely manage two-inch heels these days,” Elizabeth said. Marcie had hoped Keisha would have managed to change before the assistant saw them but as soon as the front door had opened, she and Pierre had appeared.