by Gina Rosati
“… don’t think so. I know Yumi from the store, and she wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior. I think they were right to drop the charges.” This is coming from the woman. The other officers are the short, bald guy who came to Rei’s house before, and a guy with thinning hair the color of a cheese puff that’s been lost too long under the fridge.
Bald Guy: “Yeah, well he seemed like a nice kid, but I gave him specific instructions to call us if he heard from the Murphy kid. What was he doing in New York unless he heard from him? He should have called us. The guys in New York found them coming out of the woods together, but everyone they talked to said the Ellis kid went looking for Murphy to talk him into turning himself in. Who knows? I think the kid got lucky they didn’t make that accessory charge stick.”
Cheese Puff: “Well, the Murphy kid’s arraignment is tomorrow morning. I don’t care what he pleads—he’s as good as convicted. All of the deceased’s girlfriends say he asked her to meet him at the waterfall.”
What??!!
Bald Guy: “See? Now the Ellis kid said Murphy’s phone was stolen and there was a note telling him to come get his phone at the falls. You don’t know who to trust! These kids lie so much they start to believe themselves.”
Cheese Puff: “Didn’t that little Rogan girl say she saw the whole thing.”
Bald Guy: “She said she was taking a walk, but she was too far away to hear what they said. She knew just what the girl was wearing, though, and she said she saw him rip her shirt open and drag her over to the edge and push her in. Did you see his wrist? She must have put up a damn good fight!”
Cheese Puff: “I was there when they found the body, poor kid. That Murphy kid’s an animal! You should’ve seen her shirt—all the buttons, gone! I don’t blame them for going with murder one.”
Dispatch Lady: “The kid just turned seventeen about a month ago, you know.”
Cheese Puff: “Doesn’t matter. They want to prosecute him as an adult.”
It’s right about this time when Dispatch Lady gets a very odd look on her face and looks straight at me.
Not through me.
At me.
I don’t care. I’ve been quiet long enough. It’s time to shake things up.
I drift down from the file cabinet and glide slowly and deliberately over to the desk where they are gathered, their mouths and eyes now shocked into little frozen circles. I make sure to give them enough time to see me really, really well, because if I’m going to do this, I may as well do it big. I type on Dispatch Lady’s keyboard and I make sure they all read the message.
Seth is innocent and Rei doesn’t lie. Look in Seth’s locker and you’ll find that note.
I can tell from their auras that these are not bad people; they are just misguided, uninformed people who see only what’s before their eyes. The Little Prince’s fennec fox warns us about people like these. The police think Taylor was murdered, so they feel obliged to catch a bad guy, and Seth is the easiest choice. They need to open their minds to the possibility that things are not always what they appear to be. Look at me, people, I want to say to them. See that anything is possible. I stare each person in the eye, and then I let myself fade slowly from sight.
When I get back to Rei’s bedroom, his computer is hibernating. Behind the closed door to his weight room, I hear him strumming his electric guitar. He’s not playing anything I can name, just random, melancholy chords that wrap around my heart and squeeze.
I jiggle the mouse and a screen pops up showing Rei’s last search. For a second, I think it says exercise, but then I realize it says exorcism, the exact word I’ve been avoiding, and I understand why Rei’s in there playing dirge metal music. I scroll through any links that don’t have to do with horror movies and read this … oushikuso. This is complete and total bull, and it’s not going to work. Maybe a crucifix and some holy water would scare off your run-of-the-mill demon, but it won’t faze Taylor Gleason.
Exorcism. I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel now. We’ve tried shoving her out, smoking her out, asking her nicely to leave. What else is left? And it’s not like I don’t already feel like my body is a fire hydrant, the way she’s marked her territory with tattoos and piercings.
We snickered at that first Google hit we found that suggested we convince her she’s dead and her loved ones are waiting for her on the other side. But what if the simplest way is the best? What if she has grandparents or a favorite aunt who passed? Surely there is someone over there she loves so much that she’d want to pass over. Tonight is the family viewing at the funeral home. It would be easy enough to head over there and see if I can figure out who’s missing from the family tree.
I leave Rei in his weight room and head over to the funeral home. Taylor’s second viewing for her Long Island extended family is in full swing when I get there. The place is packed with people again tonight, including what looks like business associates of her father. Okay, well, that plan fails—all four grandparents are present and accounted for, sitting on padded armchairs in the receiving line. Taylor isn’t here tonight, but judging by how she spent her day, she doesn’t want to be here with her extended family. Who am I fooling? She cares about herself more than anyone else, and I don’t know who she could possibly love enough to leave my body and cross over for.
Pfffft.
I go back to check on Rei. The music has morphed into a song I recognize, a U2 song I downloaded onto my iPod right after my father smacked me into the counter. I looped that song for weeks after, but Rei never called my overplaying foul, no matter how many times he shared my earbuds with me. He did mention once that it was a song about heroin addiction, but I pointed out that music is art, and art is subjective, which means it’s open to interpretation. To me, the song is really about dislocating from the problems in your life, and heroin is just a tool people use. Alcohol is a tool. Astral projection—that’s a tool, too. Rei sings along, and each word is smooth as honey, sharp as a stinger.
I toggle back to a blank screen and leave Rei a message on the computer: Seth is back in Vermont—his arraignment is tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.
* * *
The Little Prince lived on a planet so small, he could watch a sunset whenever he wanted. I can watch the sunset whenever I want, too … from the Serengeti, the banks of the Seine, even from the rings of Saturn.
I contemplate where I should start my sunset marathon. It’s about 8:30 here in Vermont, so adjusting for the time difference, I can start in Belize, zip on down to the Galápagos Islands, and then make my way up the coast of Central America. I’ve kept a scrapbook of all the places I astrally project to because these are the places I want to physically travel to someday. How cool would it be to hike through the Andes, scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef, feel the cold stone steps of the Basilique du Sacré Cœur beneath me while I actually eat a chunk of that fragrant French bread I’ve been drooling over for so many years?
But what if I don’t get my body back? I have to accept the possibility that Taylor won’t come out and I will be stuck out here forever. Maybe I could be one of those bohemian spirits that haunt the cafés along the Champs-Élysées. Maybe I could go off to college with Rei and become one of those legendary campus ghosts. But eventually Rei is going to meet a girl and get married, and then what? How lonely would I be with no body, no voice, no friends or family? What would I do then? Could I summon the light again and just go off to wherever it takes me? I wander over to the willow outside Rei’s window, drawn in by its comforting blue aura. Rei has stopped playing his guitar and his lights are off. I hope he’s asleep, and I hope his dreams are happy. I don’t get the benefit of sleep in this dimension, but it’s peaceful here, just me and the willow, the stars and the moon. Somehow our vibrations blend together into something harmonious and hopeful.
Could I summon the light right now if I wanted to?
I want to.
The stars twinkle through the tangled foliage and I ask the univ
erse to send the light to me. I try to think of good things, only good things, and it’s Rei who comes to mind most often. I think of how safe and connected I feel when I’m around him, how in all the years I’ve known him, he’s forgiven me for every stupid thing I’ve done. Even though Seth is in jail and my carelessness could be the one thing that keeps him there for life, Rei does not blame me. And that’s when it hits me, that Rei Ellis will probably never fall in love with me romantically, but I don’t believe anyone in my life truly loves me as much as he does. And even though I’m not a religious person, I recognize this is a blessing. Above me, it seems as though the stars are merging into one enormous beam of light that reaches down from above. The willow reverently parts its branches for the light to enter and I’m awestruck. I can do this! I can summon the light.
But now I feel like I’ve prank-called a divine power. Because I don’t want to go off into the light. Not yet, anyway. I’m sorry, I tell the light. I thank it for coming to me and to everyone else who wants and needs it, and it retracts graciously into itself and disappears, leaving me in the dark.
But I’ve had enough darkness this week. Enough darkness, enough sadness, enough oushikuso.
I set off in search of a sunrise.
CHAPTER 25
I don’t plan to discuss last night’s appearance at the police station with Rei. I should, I know, but if I do, I’ll have to break the news to him that they are planning to charge Seth with first-degree murder, as an adult. That won’t go over well at all.
I’m also a little shocked at myself. It’s one thing to materialize intentionally in front of a bunch of wasted coeds who have never seen me and will never see me again, but these cops know me, if only as The Little Rogan Girl. After I disappeared, I stuck around long enough to watch them stare at each other in disbelief, then stare into their drinks as if maybe their coffees were laced with some sort of hallucinogenic drug. Cheese Puff spoke up first and said, “I didn’t see anything!” Then Bald Guy’s eyebrows went straight up and he said the same thing. “I didn’t see anything. Pat, you see anything?”
Dispatch Lady read her computer screen and frowned. “I don’t know what I just saw, but I know I’m not stupid enough to tell anyone about it. I need this job.” She takes a sip of her watery coffee. “So is anyone going to get a search warrant to check out that kid’s locker?”
We also haven’t discussed if Rei would attend Taylor’s funeral, which starts in less than an hour. I think he is since it’s past eight o’clock and if Rei were going to school, he’d be long gone by now. He’s still in the shower, though, and I’m hanging out near his bed waiting for him. At some point during the week, I’ve become somewhat of a fixture in his room, and he greets me casually when he walks in trailing the scent of oranges and cinnamon, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts and a towel around his neck. He roots through his drawer looking for a clean T-shirt. I may as well ask.
Are you going to the funeral?
“Yeah,” he says as he rubs his hair with the towel. “Are you?”
I nod.
“I think I’ll skip the church, though. How about…” something outside catches his eye and he leans toward the window, a curious expression growing on his face. “What the hell?”
I float over to see what’s got his attention, and we turn to look at each other in surprise.
“What’s up with that?” Rei asks me.
Even if I had a voice, I’m laughing way too hard to respond.
Taylor reminds me of a circus clown riding on one of those itty-bitty tricycles, except she looks even sillier. She’s carefully pedaling away on my mountain bike in her megaheels, wearing a black leather miniskirt, a gray tank top, and a tight black sweater. Over this stylish ensemble, she’s sporting my backpack, which looks kind of empty.
Rei just stands there with a surprised grin glued on his face. “You know, I keep thinking she can’t sink any lower, but yet, she does. Are you going to follow her?”
Of course I’m going to follow her! I wave and leave through the window.
Taylor makes it all the way to Main Street pedaling so slowly, I’m anticipating the bike will tip over any second now. I expect her to take a left onto Main Street toward McGregor & Sons Funeral Home, but no, she takes a right, and it takes me a minute to realize where she’s heading.…
She’s going home.
She walks my bike up her driveway and parks it around the back of her house. Of course nobody is home right now; they are all at the church for their dearly departed’s funeral service.
She finds a key under the doormat. “Bingo,” she gloats. What is she up to? She lets herself into her house, and I follow her to the alarm system, where she uses the tips of those acrylic nails to key in the code to disarm it. She takes off her shoes and makes her way upstairs.
As far as I can see, her mother hasn’t touched her room. There’s an empty frappuccino bottle sitting on the nightstand and a silky tank top and sleep shorts lying at the foot of the bed. Taylor looks around for a moment, and her eyes are glassy. There is a long second where I feel something—empathy maybe? How difficult must this be for her? This is not just material stuff; this is her world, and it’s gone. As much as I hate her for all the grief and aggravation she’s put us through this week, I see everything she’s lost, and I feel sad for her.
She sniffs hard, unzips the backpack, and begins to fill it with items from her dresser top and drawers. Makeup, perfume, jewelry, photos, her iPod and charger, a box of condoms … wait a minute, a box of what?
I stick my head into the backpack for a second look, and sure enough, there is a twelve-pack of glow-in-the-dark, lubricated-for-her-pleasure condoms. The package had been torn open at some point in time, and it appears that a few are missing. It’s hard to read the package in the dimness of the backpack, especially since Taylor continues to shove things on top of me, but there’s a date clearly labeled on the box and it tells me these condoms expired over a year ago.
I retreat to the corner of the room and take inventory. So far she’s had my ears and nose pierced, my arm tattooed with a hideous drawing, and she appears to be planning the demise of my virginity. I wonder who the lucky guy is.
As soon as she’s done pilfering her room, she heads into the bathroom and takes her toothbrush (eww!), a box of super-absorbent tampons (good luck with those!) and some very expensive-looking hair conditioner. The backpack is nearly full.
Downstairs, she opens a cabinet door to reveal several rows of liquor bottles. She helps herself to a half-empty bottle of vodka, takes a long swallow and sighs. “Damn, I missed you,” she tells the bottle. She adds that to my backpack, along with another bottle of vodka, this one unopened.
She is careful to reset the alarm and lock up after herself. I watch her long enough to know she is heading to the church. I hurry back to Rei’s house.
* * *
I arrive to find Rei at his computer, wearing his beige chinos and white polo shirt. He is surfing the internet for exorcism again, but as soon as he sees me point to the keyboard, he pushes back in his chair.
She went to her house to get stuff.
He raises one eyebrow as he reads this. “What kind of stuff?”
2 bottles of vodka, I type.
“That’s not good.”
And condoms
Rei just looks at the screen blankly for a minute, and then he squeezes his eyes shut and rubs that spot on his forehead again. When he opens his eyes, he leans over and squints at the screen for a few seconds more. “Yep, that’s what I thought you said.” He sees my anxious expression. “Anna, don’t worry,” he consoles me. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get the chance to use them. Where is she now?”
At church
“At church with a backpack full of vodka and condoms,” he smirks. “I’m sorry, that’s just…” he shakes his head. “Never mind.”
I frown at him. The arraignment starts in about ten minutes. I’m going to check on Seth and I’ll meet you at the
cemetery after.
“Okay, see you then.”
* * *
The sight of Seth, all trussed up in handcuffs and ankle shackles, would break Rei’s heart. It looks like Seth has borrowed his father’s clothes, black dress pants that are too short and a matching suit jacket that’s too tight in the shoulders. The lawyer next to him wears a suit that fits him perfectly and probably cost more than Seth’s dad earns in a month.
The arraignment is very boring. The judge is a dumpling of a man, with wire-rimmed glasses sliding perpetually down his nose. I wonder if he pushes them up with his middle finger to send a message to the court. Seth shows no surprise when they read the charge of first-degree murder, and the judge shows no surprise when Seth responds with, “Not guilty, your honor.”
The judge tilts his head back a bit so he can read without taking off his glasses. “In light of the vicious nature of this crime, the district attorney has requested the date of the trial be expedited.”
There is much whispering and scribbling among the attorneys when this Friday is announced as the date of the trial. The consensus among the defense is this does not give them much time to prepare, but nobody argues with the judge. Seth gets up stiffly from the wooden chair when directed by the bailiff and shuffles out of the courtroom.
It is just too depressing to follow him to his cell. Instead, I float around, trying to make sense of their strange terms. I understand there is no bail for Seth because he ran once already. I understand they think he killed Taylor in cold blood, so they want to try him as an adult, even though he’s still seventeen. But now the lawyers are rattling off terms like “percipient witnesses” and “deposition” and “burden of proof” and “Annaliese Rogan.” Apparently, I am the only eyewitness, and Taylor will be required to appear at a deposition with the attorneys this Wednesday morning at nine o’clock. I make a mental note not to miss that.
* * *
I find Rei leaning against an ancient oak tree on the edge of the cemetery, watching the crowd gathered around the white coffin. When I rest my hand on Rei’s shoulder, he must feel the vibration because he immediately reaches for my hand, managing only to pat his own shoulder instead. “Hi,” he greets me. I trace the letters H-I on his back. His mouth doesn’t smile, but his eyes do, so I know he felt it.
