We separated. My fingers curled into his biceps, and against my mind that silently screamed to me in warning, I said, “I love you.”
Roan smiled and hugged me to him again. His breath tickled my ear when he said, “I love you, too, killer.”
I left without another word. I didn’t grab my biological mother or father. I needed to be alone. Very alone.
I was so angry and defeated. Anger pulsed through my veins, and the need to be reckless zinged through me. I wanted to be stupid, casting caution aside.
I spotted a liquor store and went in. I reached for a bottle of wine and then decided that instead I’d buy the hard stuff, so I bought a pint of whiskey, paid for it and headed home.
Once I got there, I set the whiskey on the kitchen table and found a coffee mug to drink it out of. There weren’t any rocks or shot glasses in the rental. Go figure.
I unscrewed the cap and poured a finger into the cup. I raised it in a silent toast to my pathetic life and took a drink.
Oh, it burned. It was caustic and made me gag. I coughed and sputtered. Through my stomach spasms, I reached the cabinet, grabbed another cup and filled it with water from the sink.
After several mouthfuls my throat stopped burning and I could breathe. I stared at the whiskey, cursing at myself for even buying the stuff.
“Did I interrupt a party for one?” Francine appeared in the doorway.
My throat was raw, but I spoke through the pain. “Yes. Well, no. It was a pity party, but I think I’m over the party part of it.”
“Though not the pity?” Francine said. “What a shame. I hate to see folks so sad.” She floated over to the whiskey and stared at the amber liquid.
I brushed her concern aside. “What is it?”
“Didn’t you want to find your mystery spirit? See what all the fuss is about?”
I nodded. “Yes, I do. Thank you.”
“I just wanted to check in. I’ll be back in a few hours to get you. Once the sun has set.”
Oh, right. “But why are you here if it’s too early to leave?”
Francine’s gaze drifted to the bottle and then back to me. “To make sure you’re okay. I saw you with the whiskey.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’m not okay, but I don’t think I’ll be drinking any more of it. It always looks cool in movies when folks buy a bottle and drink it themselves. Turns out, I’m not cut out for the hard stuff.”
Francine stiffened. “Some things are better that way.”
She disappeared. I put the bottle in the cupboard and washed the cups. I called Ruth and Alice to make sure they’d be ready, and did my best to take a nap, though sleep wouldn’t come.
It remained just out of reach that afternoon. When the sun started burning down the horizon and pink and gold smeared the sky, I pulled myself from my bed, ate a grilled cheese sandwich and readied to do a bit of ghost hunting.
“We have to look inconspicuous,”Ruth explained.
She and Alice had arrived at my house. They wore white sheets that they had smeared with gray paint. Their heads popped through holes that had been cut. Their faces were also brushed with whatever gray paint they had used on their “outfits,” and I used the term loosely.
I folded my arms and studied the two women, when what I really wanted to do was rake my fingers down my face and pray this was an illusion.
“What are y’all doing wearing sheets?”
“We’re trying to blend in,” Alice said with authority.
“If we’re spotted by ghosts, we want them to be confused by us,” Ruth added.
“And how does this help? Y’all wearing sheets and plastering yourselves with paint?”
Under the white tarp, Alice spread her arms. “How could it not? We’re dressed like ghosts. At the very least that’ll confuse them if something bad happens. It’ll give you time to escape if a whole bunch of spirits come after us.”
