I picked up a big black Bible with some fire tongs and held it as far in front of me as possible.
“Don’t come in here till it’s clear,” I called down the hall to Heaven. “It’s not safe.”
Heaven picked up a cross-stitched quote,Do unto your neighbor as you would have them do unto you. She held it up meaningfully.“I think we should keep this—” she said, but as she brandished the cross-stitchery, her hand began to smoke.
“Sorry,” I said.
“For the burn or for being a shit neighbor?” she asked.
“Both.”
In the attic, I found a smaller room. My phone light cut across the cramped space, illuminating a papasan chair and day bed. Fairy lights were strung around the wrought-iron bed frame and movie posters tacked to the wall. Against the wall was a single bookshelf with as many trophies and figurines as books—bingo. I slipped a high school yearbook under my arm.
It was surreal, stepping into the childhood bedroom of a woman whose life I had claimed but whom I had never met.
I might’ve been named for the Epiphany, but the woman whose life I was inhabiting had clearly been named for Tiffany the redheaded ’80s pop star of mall-dwelling fame. Was she a one-hit wonder or could I only remember one song? “I Think We’re Alone Now” came to mind.The beating of our hearts is the only so-ound.
My beating heart was the only one I couldn’t hear.
I sang the song softly to myself as I wandered through the rest of the house, my voice off-key and echoing through the hallways.
The roar of a car’s engine interrupted my singing, and I peeked behind one of the curtains to see the hearse’s headlights cut through the darkness. Damn it! Heaven was making a break for it. The engine revved. The road was still as slippery as it had been an hour ago. After ten feet of sliding backward, Heaven landed right in the ditch, her wheels spinning futilely. She’d never driven on ice, and the hearse was outfitted for California.
I hurtled down the stairs, out of the house, and slip-slided through the mess of wet leaves and snow to the car. Through the driver’s side window I mouthed, “Just come inside.”
“I don’t—” Heaven began, but then she looked at the snowy night, and all the fight went out of her and she sagged into the seat.
“I am so sorry. I did not want this to happen.”
“Youaccidentallyturned me into a vampire?”
“Well, technically I accidentally killed you. I intentionally turned you into a vampire to save you.” I extended a hand to help her out of the car. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Fine,” Heaven said. She took my hand. “I guess I don’t really want to be in LA right now anyway, not after my fight with Gemma.”
Together we walked back inside and up to one of the bedrooms, the smallest one with the fewest windows. The curtains were moth-eaten, so I tucked one of the ’80s floral bedspreads behind the curtain rod to block out the light.
Before I left the room, she was out. Today had been a lot.
With the sun cresting over the horizon, I didn’t have enough time to jerry-rig any blackout shades for myself. Instead, I crawled into an old clawfoot tub and wrapped myself in an aggressively floral bedspread. This wasn’t exactly the self-care, spa-day moment I’d been looking for. All I wanted to do was watch a movie in a sheet mask.
I’d once read that some of the most stressful events in a person’s life are moving, having children, divorce, and changing jobs. I’d hit all of them but divorce in the last few days, and it felt like it.
The faucet dripped slowly, wetting the bottom of my bedspread. As I tried my best to keep my feet dry, my phone pinged.
Vlad:Did you make it?
Me:yes
Vlad:Where are you? Are you okay?
My fingers hovered over the keys. It would be so nice to have Vlad visit, to explore this house together, to banter about what colors to paint the walls, and when I said “I hate pink,” he would understand it had nothing to do about my feelings about being a woman and everything to do with the relationship I’d gotten into while I was visiting Japanduring cherry blossom season. Naoki wrecked the color pink for me. Our relationship had been all fighting, no rest, not even while we were sleeping. That was the thing about people. You could never get on the same schedule. It just wasn’t worth it.
Instead of saying all of that, I texted:
Me:im good. how’s Indiana?
Vlad:I live in Utah.
