come quickly.
“Helen was my best friend. She tried to keep me on the straight and narrow, even though I was determined to waste my college years in plastic cups. By happy coincidence Victor stumbled into a party Helen and I were at.”
“It wasn’t a big coincidence. I could have stumbled into any party back then and found you two,” Victor said.
“So, Victor and Helen were…,” Morgan waggled eyebrows again.
Again, Rosa hesitated and looked at Victor.
“Helen was my girlfriend, yes,” Victor said. “She died during our senior year.”
And there it was, the long empty void of the dead girlfriend.
“Victor…” Morgan started awkwardly. “I am so sorry.”
Victor waved it away. “It was a long time ago,” he hid himself for a moment behind a sip of tea.
“It just seems a little weird that we’re here for séance.”
Victor looked at her quizzically.
“Well, I mean—“
“You think Helen’s going to try to talk to me?”
He laughed, then looked pointedly at Rosa. “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen, is it Rosa? I know, back in the day, no matter how dirty I talked, she steadfastly refused to ring the bells I left out for her on the bedroom table.”
Morgan struggled with whether she was supposed to laugh.
Rosa covered her mouth. “That sounds way more like the Victor I remember,” she said, standing up. She looked as if she were about to leave, then paused and touched Morgan on the arm.
“It’s his way of caring, you know…pretending as hard as he can not to.” She winked again at Victor.
“Rosa, seriously,” Victor said. “Leave me out of this.”
Rosa gave him a small, honest package of a smile and nodded. She went off and began gathering everyone around the carpet at the center of the room.
“Seriously,” Morgan said, “If you want to go…”
Victor shook his head. “It’s okay, really.” He nodded down at the cat on his lap. “Besides, I’m not sure Daphne will let me leave.”
“I’m just amazed you agreed to come. I mean, more amazed than I was before.”
“I owed you something,” Victor said. When that didn’t seem to be enough, he added, “And I thought this might get you to stop asking me to things.”
She nodded slowly. “So a séance seemed like the best event to absolve yourself of your social obligations? Maybe you could have just come to the Christmas party last year?”
“You know I don’t go in for that pagan stuff.”
“I thought you were just too cheap to buy something for the gift exchange.”
Victor scratched the cheek of Daphne the cat, who stretched out to press her head urgently into his hand. Victor was okay with cats. You always knew exactly what they wanted.
“I’m not big on all these superstitious things.”
“So you’re a skeptic?” Morgan asked.
“I’m a scientist,” Victor said.
“Surely you believe in something? Religion? The Force? Love?”
“I don’t need anything like that. The world isn’t easy to explain.” Victor looked around the room, at all the shadows dancing in the flickering light. He shook his head, disappointed to find the tribe still gathering around the bonfire. “Belief in something is a bad starting place.”
Rosa was just finishing up her introductions in the center of the room. “Remember, this isn’t meant to be frightening,” she said. “There’s a lot of good, warm energy in the room. Keep that up. We’re all friends here. The warmer and lighter you can make the room the more spirits will be attracted. Think good thoughts.”
Rosa’s eyes glowed powerfully in the flickering candlelight. “I do ask that you stay seated at all times. It’s not dangerous, but it is kind of dark in here and Daphne doesn’t appreciate getting stepped on if one of you gets frightened and stumbles off.”
There was nervous laughter around the room.
“But I see Victor is taking good care of my baby back there.”
Daphne had settled on the shelf behind him, both paws kneading his shoulder, purring loudly.
“Purring is just more good vibrations,” Rosa said with a big smile.
“Let us begin.”
Victor watched Rosa close her eyes, take a deep breath, her head rolling from side to side. When her eyes opened, they were duller, less focused.
“There’s a Roger in the room, with a message for someone,” Rosa said at one point.
A young man, a college student, Victor thought, answered hesitantly. “My roommate…”
“Has your roommate passed on?” Rosa asked him.
He shook his head.
“Then I don’t think this is him…unless he spends a lot of time out of body.”
With a nervous laugh, the young man shook his head again.
She turned about the room, walking carefully within the perimeter of the rug. Her eyes were unfocused. “Roger…Robert…something like that is coming through…”
“My late husband was named Rowan,” an elderly Indian lady, severe from black dress to a tightly wound bun of hair answered.
“Rowan…yes. He wants you to know, there’s someone with him…someone who joined him recently that you’re worried about.”
The woman’s face softened, just a crack. “Colin, maybe?”
“Colin’s sitting on his lap right now.”
There was a titter from the back of the room.
“Colin was our schnauzer,” the old lady said.
“Well the two of them are together and very happy for now.” Rosa smiled at the lady, who settled with a contended sigh.
For an hour, Victor watched Rosa play to members of the crowd, taking a circuitous but carefully accessible route each time to make them remember someone who was gone, and, in most cases, make their peace with them. In every case, the power of Rosa’s fiction, of her puppetry of spirit, gave each person the freedom to remake the story of their relationship with the ghostly visitor. Mostly, it reminded Victor of how good Rosa had been at getting all the free drinks she wanted via the long lever of her charisma.
“Morgan,” Rosa said.
Victor saw Morgan jump.
“There’s a female presence near you.”
Rosa’s unfocused eyes squinted over Morgan’s shoulder. “It’s a very strong presence, slightly…disapproving.”
Morgan glanced hesitatingly over her shoulder to the point Rosa was focused on, and looked directly at Victor, slouched behind her. He shrugged and pointed to Daphne.
Morgan turned back to Rosa, eager but unsure, Victor thought, like someone dragged up on stage at an improv show. “My grandmother, maybe?”
“Younger,” Rosa prompted. “Though one can never tell, since the spirit form is the ultimate face lift. Whoever it is, it feels like there’s a lot she never said.”
“My mother,” Morgan said with certainty. “I barely felt I knew her sometimes.”
“Loneliness. She’s projecting it to you.”
“She was never happy with the hours I spent in the lab. I think she pretended to be proud when I brought home another award for something she didn’t understand. I think she was afraid I’d suddenly realize I was an old maid.”
“Make room in your heart, Morgan.” Rosa said. “She doesn’t want you to be lonely.”
Morgan sighed. Victor saw goose bumps on her arm. He wondered how much Morgan realized she had provided the whole story for the encounter.
Rosa continued her careful dance of expectations for a while longer, setting the room spinning deeper and deeper into the shadowy spirit world, as more and more people slipped into the grip of the story. The rest of the people in the room were drawn up into Rosa’s imaginary world, their skepticism tossed behind them without even a floating table or any wooden rapping. Rosa’s talent for leading this group storytelling was impressive. At the end, when Rosa settled the room back on Earth with a small thank you speech, there
was even a smattering of applause. Victor joined in, if just to express appreciation for the artistry of it. She was a fantastic performer.
People started gathering their things and heading for the door, where Rosa waited, pressing hands and smiling.
Morgan turned and smiled at him, looking just a bit nervous. “Well, that was something.”
“Maybe it is good to get out to the theater once in a while,” he said. Daphne the cat nuzzled his neck.
Morgan frowned. “You didn’t feel anything?” When he smirked, she said, “No, I should have figured.”
“Brain scans would have been interesting.” He saw her eyes turn inwards as she hugged herself gently. “Hey, listen,” he started, feeling a little bad, “About what your mom…said. If you need to get out of the lab more…I can pick up some of the slack.”
She started to say something, but stopped.
He turned to look Daphne directly in her golden eyes. “You got Morgan’s tongue in there?”
The cat bumped his nose and purred.
When he turned back, Morgan was gone.
“And that’s my story, Daphne,” he said to the cat. “Women just don’t get me.”
The cat harrumphed at him, then bumped his shoulder. He rubbed Daphne’s ears while he watched Rosa say goodbye to her guests, and waited for Morgan to come back.
“Maybe I should get a cat, Daphne. Got any friends?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she followed you home,” Rosa said, settling on the chair in front of him that Morgan had been sitting in. “I expect she’ll be dragging me into kitty divorce court next to go off with her newfound lover.”
“I’m not attracted to you in that way,” Victor told the cat firmly.
“I guess you must have had some effect on him, Daphne, dear. He’s still hanging about when I thought he