Page 80 of Persephone's Curse
“Blanche.”
“Well, I’ll tell Blanche she did a great job, if she pops up tonight.”
My sisters came around the corner from the kitchen, and Clara gave a little wave. “Hi, Maybe!”
“Hi,” Maybe said. “We should do this in the hearth of the home. Usually that’s the kitchen or the living room.”
“The attic,” Bernadette said without hesitation. “For us, it’s the attic.”
“Right on,” Maybe said. “I like your hair.”
Bernadette, who’d spent not a single moment of her life flustered, looked a bit flustered now. Her hand fluttered up to the nape of her neck and she stammered a thanks as Maybe looked up the first flight of stairs.
“Shall we?” Maybe said.
Evelyn raised the Swiffer WetJet she was holding. “Let’s do this.”
Clara led the way, followed by Maybe, then Evelyn, then me, then Bernadette.
“Dang,”Bernie whispered.
“Kindly shut up,” I whispered back.
In the attic, Maybe dropped a big black tote bag on the hardwood floor and said, “There’s definitely some energy here.”
(Teaching Henry how to play Miss Mary Mack, readingAlice in Wonderlandside by side on the couch, watching endless reruns ofBewitchedandI Dream of GenieandMASHon late-night cable. Yes: some energy indeed.)
We had already set up a folding table with five chairs and brought up all of Maybe’s requested items. She withdrew a bundle of small, neatly cut sticks from her bag, then a metal lighter. The aroma of cedar filled the room as the sticks caught and started to burn. She handed the bundle to Clara.
“First we cleanse,” she said.
Clara’s face settled itself into an expression of utmost sincerity. She walked around the perimeter of the room slowly, letting the smoke rise up from her hands.
Next, Maybe withdrew a corked glass bottle from her bag. She carefully poured the concoction into the Swiffer and handed it back to Evelyn.
“Open the windows,” she instructed. “Clean.”
Evelyn did as she was told.
Maybe tossed the lighter to Bernadette. We’d put a dozen or so candles on the table already. Maybe nodded her head toward them, and Bernadette began lighting.
Maybe picked up the olive oil next, said something softly over it, moved her hand, then handed the bottle to me.
“Anoint the open windows,” she said, “then close them again.”
The whole thing might have had the danger of veering into the corny, but Maybe prevented that from happening. She was serious and stoic, calm and precise, and under her direction, we felt protected. Confident. Like maybe this would… work.
When Clara was done with the cedar, Maybe went over the space again with palo santo, which had a deep, woody smell with a hint of something sweet underneath it, like black licorice. Then she stepped back, considered everything, and nodded her head.
“Take your seats, please,” she said.
Maybe sat at one of the ends of the table, Bernadette and I sat on one long side, and Clara and Evelyn sat on the other. Evelyn was across from me. She was doing better, blinking less, less slow with her reaction times. I had found the dress she’d returned in shoved into the back of her closet, crinkled into a tight ball. She was quiet now, and I knew she was trying so hard not to get her hopes up. We were all trying so, so hard not to get our hopes up.
I thought of the priest, suddenly, and the quiet, full silence of the Bleecker crypt, lit by candles, like the attic playroom was now. I thought of the gravel floor, of pleading with Henry to answer me, of saying Evelyn’s name like an invocation. I thought of sending Henry away. I thought of a morning last year when Evelyn and I had walkedacross the park in springtime and she had stopped to pick up a dandelion, closing her eyes so tightly as she made her wish, scattered the seeds with her breath. I knew what she had wished for then and I knew what she would wish for now, had she found another dandelion in the frozen ground. I would wish for the same thing.
“Are we all settled?” Maybe asked, and her voice had shifted, from shopgirl to séance leader. “Clear your minds,” she continued, and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, very aware that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to clear my mind. I was always thinking of at least ten useless things at a time. But I tried. I really tried.
I opened my eyes again when I heard shuffling. Maybe had taken a small handmade contraption out of her tote bag and was assembling it on the table. It was made of wood and looked almost like (morbid, but) a miniature gallows. From the top of the device, Maybe hung a thin, braided piece of rope with a crystal attached. She placed her hands on either side of the device.
