Page 9 of The Invisible Roommate

Maybe if he kept running, he wouldn’t have to think about it.

His shoes clomped on the boards of the bridge into town. Perhaps those personal-training sessions were worth it, after all. Only a week without them and he was winded by the time the pink awning of the ice-cream shop came into view.

Fuck it. He’d been run out of his own apartment by a malicious spirit. He deserved a scoop of mint chocolate chip. On a waffle cone. With some goddamn sprinkles.

The electric-green treat melted down the side of the cone and onto his fingers as he sat on a bench in the shade and tried to make sense of everything that had happened since he left New York, attempted to recall another time he’d ever felt that scared.

With a thin napkin, he blotted at the pool of ice cream in his lap but mostly didn’t care about the mess, because agitation bloomed hot in his belly. He couldn’t let some spontaneous spirit spook him away from the rest and relaxation he promised himself he’d get on this island.

Up ahead, the church he’d seen on the first day stood with its front doors propped open. A sign to the left of the doors read ALL ARE WELCOME. OPEN PRAYER.

It had been ages since he’d stepped foot in a church. His career and religion didn’t really mesh. Without overthinking it, he finished his ice cream, cleaned his hands, and then trudged inside. He worried momentarily that he might burst into flames from sin—greed, gluttony, lust—but all he felt was the cool blast of air on his face, and he inhaled the familiar smell of incense.

Music spilled out from the nave. Gerard poked his head in. The choir of no more than twenty people was rehearsing beneath a lifelike statue of Jesus affixed to the cross hung above the altar. To the left, candles remained lit in offering. To the right, Regina played the organ.

For a moment, he soaked in the music, letting it lap over him like he’d let the salty, frigid waves of the bay do the previous afternoon.

A woman in slacks appeared behind him and whispered with the same accent as Kellen except thicker, “Hats off in the house of the Lord.”

Quickly, Gerard removed his cap.

“Can I help you?” she asked. She wore peach-colored lipstick that was visible on her teeth.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m looking for the priest or, um, pastor.” He hadn’t seen any mention of denomination on the signage outside, though he was in such a rush that he hadn’t looked closely.

“Priest. Father Daniels. I believe he’s in his office,” she said. “Are you new ’round here?”

He nodded. “Just got off the ferry five days ago. I’m staying with Regina.”

“You are not the thief, are you?” she asked, distaste in her tone.

“No, that was the guy before me. Promise,” he said.

She nodded. “Follow me.”

She led him down a corridor. On the wall, a mural of Jesus in a field was painted. He was reading scripture to some children. One was in a robe and sandals. One was blond with pigtails and a children’s Bible open. The other was suntanned and twirling a … soccer ball? Jesus had never struck him as a sports fan.

The woman knocked on a slightly ajar door. “Father Daniels. A new-to-town visitor here to see you. His name is— What’s your name?”

“James,” he said.

“A good Christian name,” Father Daniels said, appearing in the doorway. He looked like all the other priests from Gerard’s youth. Tall, skinny, white, balding, with thick knuckle hair and chapped lips that cracked as he smiled. “Come in. Please.”

The chair across from Father Daniels’s desk was wooden and rigid. It made Gerard sit at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “Thanks.”

“What can I do for you, son?” he asked.

Gerard bristled at the word son. He looked anywhere but at the priest’s face as he said, “I came seeking guidance on the spiritual.”

“Your spiritual self?” Father Daniels asked.

“More like spirits. Ghosts,” he said meekly, certain he sounded as ridiculous as he felt. “And, um, how to get rid of them.”

5

Night had fallen by the time Gerard returned to Regina’s armed with holy water, rosary beads, and a new force of will. He’d spent several hours talking with Father Daniels and several more hours ambling around town, psyching himself up. At whatever cost, he had to expel the spirit. They’d have to drag him kicking and screaming from this island before he’d let anyone or anything set him off his plan.

But as soon as he opened the door to the apartment, his determination flew away like his clothes had flown off their hangers.