Page 22 of A Heart So Haunted
We shuffled through a few drawers. Sticky notes, pens, and printer paper tumbled and sifted about. By the time I made it to a cluster of cabinets behind Aunt Cadence’s desk, my eyes wandered.
Photographs perched in welcome on almost every shelf. But there—a lone black frame at eye level. My high school graduation. The onlypicture with everyone together after the divorce. Vince stood on my right, my mother on my left, Aunt Cadence at Mom’s left. Mom looked like she’d swallowed a persimmon. Aunt Cadence, all smiles and curls. Emma hovered beside my dad, with her brothers Mason and Dawson in the background, both with arms extended upward in a wave.
With Mom and I standing side by side, it was hard to overlook the similarities: both of us auburns that neared burnt browns and freckled cheeks. But my structure came from my father. Everyone mentioned it—even my mother.
His hair was a rich chocolate, near black. His blue eyes were mine. His roman nose and full lips also mine, just like the cheekbones. Even his chin, which looked masculine on him, reigned feminine on me. If I held weight, I’d imagine I might have looked more like his mother than I would my own.
“Did you spill something?”
I blinked from the photo. “What?”
She bent and touched the floor. One of the boards was stained a different color, like it’d been replaced at some point. She pulled a splintered corner up and twisted it off. “Never mind. Thought it was sticky. It’s just a splinter.”
“I say we call it a night and go watch SNL reruns,” Emma said. She pushed herself up from a crouch behind Aunt Cadence’s desk with a wince. “I’m too old to be crawling on the floor this late without purpose.”
At least I knew I’d need to add batteries to the store list. “What else would crawling entail?”
An eye roll was her response. “You know what I mean. I just want to eat pizza in peace.”
“A simple creature,” I teased. “Pizza or a slew of casseroles. You can take your pick.”
“Hate to break it to you, but unless it has four different types of cheese, I don’t want it.”
Soon enough, the two of us sat settled on the couch, windows shut, curtains drawn, and an SNL rerun flitting across the TV.
By the time I’d picked the majority of the peppers off, leaving the bacon bits and the sausage, a looming pressure took a seat on my chest. I’d agreed to dinner. I could have said no. I could have refused. But then that would bring attention to me, to the issue, and I’d rather act like I was normal than explain the sense of dread surrounding me every time I looked at food.
Control. I wanted control.
To numb all the things I didn’t want to feel.
A mixture of heat and condensation had left the bottom of the plate soggy. I alternated hands before feigning a bite.
“I need some napkins,” I said. I pushed to stand, taking my pizza with me. “Be right back.”
Emma peeled off a section of crust and dipped it in melted cheese sauce. “Can I have a Coke?”
“Cup or bottle?”
“Bottle’s good.”
I kept my back to Emma as I fumbled in the pantry for her drink. Then, when she wasn’t looking, I tossed the slice in the trash.
The tension released from my neck first. Then down, down to my empty stomach, and the hollow bones of my shins.
There. The pressure released. For another night, I looked normal. I controlled the situation. I removed the source of anxiety.
At least—at least, I could still control this.
Problem solved.
Drip, drip, drip.
That night, I sat bent over my notepad, renovation ideas scribbled inside. My bedside lamp washed the room in soft light, somehow amplifying the neon green of my digital clock as it crept closer to midnight. Years ago, the vanity across from me had been a beauty desk for a little girl. Stained and chipped from dress-up games and makeup testing, it was now sanded and refinished, the memories erased. Forgotten. The dolls still dangled over the top of the bookshelfto my left, waiting for me to remove one and start a game of dress-up all over again.
And now you, Miss Patty, I told the little redhead with freckles, because she’d looked the most like me,I can tie your hair up to keep it away from your eyes while I put eye shadow on them.
The bread tie was still in her hair, which wasn’t more than a single tuft that pointed straight to the ceiling, just like a unicorn.
