Adelaide Upset (12 page)

A few weeks ago she’d been
hoping it meant Reed Wallace, though a few weeks ago she also
denied believing in psychics.

Eclipsys creased her brow,
a look of interest. But she wasn’t interested, not really. She kept
up the act, listening to Francesca before referring to her chart.
“Well, Uranus is nearing an alignment with Pluto which is a
planetary cycle of change. Of course the alignment between Jupiter
and Neptune indicates a more spiritual aspect of change. But one
could certainly interpret marriage as a spiritual union,” Eclipsys
hedged.

She couldn’t possibly be
encouraging Francesca.

“
These dynamics make for a
fascinating time,” Eclipsys continued, giving her chart a tiny
shake. “One in which we must let go of our old philosophies, let go
of our outdated mindsets, move past what hold us back and accept
new possibilities, new opportunities. Change
is
upon you,
Francesca.”

Francesca would be married
by week’s end at this rate.

“
The Mayan apocalypse was
an astrological prediction too,” I argued. They gave me matching
looks. “I’m just saying...”

“
You are still a skeptic?”
Eclipsys needled. “Even after our last meeting?”

“You were totally right,” Francesca said,
misinterpreting the slight. “Adelaide won’t talk about it,” she
whispered confidentially. “But after she went to this park in
Brunswick they found two dead bodies there.”

That shocked Eclipsys, who
stared at me with renewed interest. I could have groaned, knowing
Nancy was sure to hear about this later.

“You know what,” I said to Francesca. “You
have a lot to think about. Let me take this,” I added, grabbing her
purse. “I’ll go pay Eclipsys at the front desk while you digest
everything you’ve learned.” She didn’t question my bizarre behavior
(I never offered to do anything for anyone) which just went to
prove how preoccupied she was.

Outside the door I dragged
Eclipsys down the hall and whispered furiously, “What the hell are
you on about? You can’t encourage her to marry some douche bag
she’s only known two weeks.”

Eclipsys cocked a hip. “I
read people,” she said, her fake accent giving way to a real one.
She was from New York, mystery solved. “And that girl’s hearing
wedding bells. She’s just looking for an excuse to say
yes.”

I started rooting around
in Francesca’s purse, extracting a wad of cash. “Go back in there
and tell her... tell her that the summer solstice is all about long
days and short nights.” I waved my hand, turning impatient. “Make
up something about the symbolism of it all. A long day signifies
she’ll gain worldly comforts with marriage, but the short night
foretells a waning intimacy. She won’t be happy with him for
long.”

Eclipsys was impressed. “You know, this
could be a good line of work for you.”

“
Yes,” I agreed. “Spouting
bullshit is my art.” I pushed the folded bills into her hand. “This
should cover it. Is Nancy still with a client? I want to see
her.”

Eclipsys took the money and shrugged. “She’s
probably upstairs by now.”

“Keep Francesca occupied for a few
minutes.”

“Are you going to confess you’ve gotten
yourself into some trouble?” Eclipsys probed, referring to
Francesca’s comment.

“Mind your own business,” I threw over my
shoulder, already hurrying to Nancy’s apartment.

Nancy answered right away,
my hand still raised mid-knock. She didn’t look happy to see me,
and her feelings confirmed it. Disappointment. Upset.
Acceptance.

“Is this a bad time?”

“
I did a reading this
morning,” Nancy said, waving me over the threshold. “I was hoping
it didn’t concern you.”

“
I can’t stay. My friend’s
downstairs with Eclipsys and she doesn’t know...” She wasn’t
listening. “What was in it, the reading?” It must have been bad.
Nancy was distracted, her thoughts engrossed and
agitated.

“
It was the devil card
again,” she explained. “I had a client scheduled for this
afternoon, a regular. Her husband was abusive and she left him a
while ago. I thought it was a warning for her.”

“
Are you really allowed to
tell me all that?”

Nancy shrugged. “I’m not a
therapist. There is no confidentiality clause.”

“
Well don’t worry about
the devil card. I think I know who it means, I... met him. And
look, I’m still alive. All is well. Don’t worry about it,
Nancy.”

“
No,” she said firmly,
giving her head a vehement shake. “It’s not the same card, well, it
is, but the last time I looked at it I saw the traditional meaning.
This time I just saw a monster, like in the picture, horns and
claws.”

“
Are you saying a
different devil is after me now?”

“
Yes,” she confirmed.
Hurrying to add, “But that’s not all. The reason I was convinced it
was a warning for my client was because I saw the devil being
invited in. I thought it meant she would take her husband back, a
reconciliation of sorts. But when I warned against it she was
appalled by my suggestion. She hasn’t spoken to him, or even seen
him, and a divorce is pending. The reading wasn’t for
her.”

My hackles were up; the
word
invited
having set off several red flags. Nancy didn’t mean devil,
she meant demon. “Well, I’ve got to go,” I said, hurrying to get
away.

“
Wait! Why did you
come?”

I stopped halfway down the stairs, turning
to admit, “I’ve been having nightmares. I was hoping you had
something I could take.”

“
I’m glad you came to me,”
she confessed, surprised that I had. “But I’m not sure how I can
help you sleep better.”

I’d pictured her having an
herbal solution, unable to kick my secret belief that she was a
witch. “I was hoping you had, like, a tea or something. It was
stupid,” I mumbled.

“
Get yourself some
NyQuil,” Nancy suggested. “But more importantly, keep the reading
in mind. You have a monster after you, Adelaide, and you’d best not
let him in.”

Luke was gone. His absence
seemed to seep into every facet of my life. Work had dragged along
and the drive home was a glaze in my mind. There was nothing to
keep me centered, nothing to look forward to. Just an empty house.
What had I done with myself before Lucas?

I would have gone straight to his place, but
I needed to eat first, and, well, he only had frozen steaks and
beer. No thanks.

There was a package on my
doorstep. Upon seeing it I took back that thought I’d had, the one
about having nothing to look forward to, because my pepper spray
had arrived! I’d ordered it online from work, paying extra to have
it shipped a.s.a.p. I felt safer already. It was good to know that
I could at least be happy about
something
without Lucas
around.

I took it inside, cutting
through the cardboard with glee, and fondling the black tube for
far too long. I touched it until the bottle became familiar in my
hands, until I knew how to hold it with my eyes closed. Then I
shoved it into my pocket where it didn’t quite fit, protruding from
the top. I left it there anyway.

That was when I noticed it, the unnatural
happiness, the fact that I’d been whistling. I scanned the kitchen,
finding my pet ghost wagging in the corner.

The ghost dog had been
gone for weeks and I suppose I was to blame. I’d studiously ignored
it after a series of vexations, hoping it’d become less tangible.
But it hadn’t ghosted back to its diaphanous form, rather
disappearing altogether. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’d missed
it, but its absence hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

The thing about dogs, or
animals in general, is that they are unsophisticated creatures,
artless and innocent. Their emotions are clean, subtle, but very
refreshing. I knew I was a headcase, and short of watering down the
flood of emotions with strong drink, there wasn’t much hope for me.
But the dead dog had helped. Like Prozac, just a little lift to
keep the gloom at bay. And now that my pet ghost was back, I was
set on keeping it. Lesson learned—the blasted thing was worth its
hassle.

I knelt down on the floor,
grabbing an apple off the table to roll across the linoleum. The
ghost dog went wild, nub tail ticking back and forth, wispy butt
wiggling along with it. It chased and pounced, undeterred when its
quarry didn’t respond. Obviously our playtime was a bit one-sided
(I didn’t want to picture what I might look like to the casual
observer) but that ridiculous creature loved every
minute.

When the rolling got old I
began to experiment, holding up a mirror for the dog to see. It
really had no effect, so I surmised that either a) ghosts couldn’t
see themselves in the mirror, or b) ghosts
could
see themselves in the
mirror, but dogs were too stupid to get it.

You see, Nancy had this
whole spiel about ghosts projecting their image as they remembered
it, but the only thing my pet ghost remembered was four paws and a
tail. Those parts were clear when it became solid, the rest was
just a blob really. There was some semblance to fur, but not
much.

By that time I was pretty
set on seeing the creature clearly, and when the mirror failed I
fetched a puppy puzzle. I held the box facing out while making
doggy noises behind it. I swear, it totally worked. The ghost dog’s
snout lengthened out, forming a muzzle tipped with shadowed nose.
Next were its ears, the shape slowly forming, long and floppy, but
one wasn’t right... I waited, but the second ear didn’t turn over,
it was stuck folded back.

“
Here,” I said, shoving
the puzzle closer. “They’re supposed to hang down, like in the
picture,” I said, tapping the front of the box.

The ghost lost interest
then, wandering away to snuffle under the table and cabinets. I
waited for it to turn solid so I could fold its ear down, but after
ten minutes of watching I gave up. I figured if it didn’t care that
its ear was inside out, then I shouldn’t either, but in truth, it
bothered me.

I left the creature to its
own devices and read a romance novel while I ate, sitting at the
table in my kitchen. It was pressed under a big window and
sometimes I got distracted, staring out into the dark. The novel,
which promoted the notion that soul mates were real, set me to
thinking about Lucas. But then, most things did.

I recalled my earlier
conversation with
Team
. He’d been hanging around
the office again, tuning his guitar, and although I was always
irritated by him, he’d been particularly provoking just then. There
he’d sat, the golden Adonis, whiling away hours in my company while
I couldn’t catch five minutes with my boyfriend.

In frustration I’d blurted, “What the hell
are you doing here? It’s been a week, no, a week and a day. No one
stays at a shitty motel for that long.”

He’d happily launched into
an explanation. “I got a job offer while I was traveling through
Europe, so I—”

“
Never mind,” I’d cut in.
“I don’t care.”

But it was too late. Tim
had taken my question as an invitation, sidling up to the front
desk. He’d carried his guitar with him, holding it loosely by the
neck. “I’ve been thinking about the other night,” he’d said,
leaning an elbow on the counter. “I’m going to report what happened
to the local authorities.”

I’d thought:
shit
. It was up
to me to change his mind, which meant feeding him a story he
wouldn’t dare to doubt. Obviously the ex-boyfriend thing hadn’t
gone over.

“
I don’t believe he was
your ex-boyfriend,” Tim had continued, confirming my thoughts. “And
who knows how things might have played out if I hadn’t turned
up.”

I remember thinking it was
an ego thing, like he just wanted to rehash events so he could
point out his heroic part in them, but it hadn’t been that. He’d
transmitted his dogged determination, convincing me that he really
would go to the authorities. So I’d said, “I really wish you hadn’t
turned up, Tim.”

“
What?” he’d asked,
slightly rearing back. “Why?” His interest in my affairs had been
strong, the prying ass.

“
I lied. That guy wasn’t
my
ex
-boyfriend, we’re still together. And you interrupted when we
were in the middle of...” I pretended to search for a delicate
term. “Well, to be blunt, that was foreplay. Why do you think I was
in such a rush to be off? We went home and did it... like animals.
Like, you know, rabbits.” I hadn’t pulled off the whole sex fiend
thing, despite the fact that I’d been channeling Francesca, and
after that last statement I’d seriously lost ground.

He hadn’t quite believed
me, but he continued to stare as if replaying events in a whole new
light. “The rag and hammer?” he’d asked, pronouncing it like reg
and hamma.

“Role-play,” I’d said, shrugging a bit. “I
like it rough.”

The air had been too
awkward after that, forcing Tim from the office. Finally. He hadn’t
quite believed me, but he’d believed enough. The threat of
impending police was neutralized.