By Christopher Fryer
*
“She really ought to be taking piano lessons,” said Dave, sitting across the table from his dead wife. “It’s good for her cognitive development.”
“Piano lessons are expensive,” said Jules, turning to face her living sister. “Donna can’t afford that.”
Donna, chewing a bite of Frosted Flakes, nodded, only half-listening. She would’ve said something, but Melanie was eating with her, and Melanie would think Donna was crazy for speaking to herself. The twelve-year-old was reading the back of the cereal box and humming. “You have some milk on your chin,” said Donna to her niece, who wiped her chin on the shoulder of her new yellow dress.
“I never thought she looked good in yellow,” said Jules.
“She needs to do something extracurricular. If not piano lessons, then maybe ballet. Didn’t we talk about putting her in an acting class?”
“Yes, but she’s much too shy for acting.”
“You look good in yellow,” said Donna to Melanie, though she was looking at her sister when she said it.
“Uh huh,” said the girl, reading the nutritional facts.
“I always tried to highlight her eyes with greens and blues. She has such lovely eyes, don’t you think?” Jules sighed, brushing off Donna’s comment. Once a big sister, always a big sister, even in the after-life. “She got those from you, Dave.”
“My eyes are brown.”
“From your side of the family I mean. Your mother had pretty blue eyes, didn’t she?”
“No. I don’t think so.” Dave thought for a moment. “I don’t remember.”
“I think she did. She always wore blue.”
“Is that what happens when you’ve been dead for too long? Do you start to forget your life?” Dave frowned and looked at his hands. “How long have we been dead?” Dave asked, looking at Donna.
Donna lifted up four fingers.
“Four years… It really flies by,” said Jules.
“It’s really troubling to forget the color of my mother’s eyes.”
“Do you want to go get your backpack, Mel?” Donna asked. Her niece had abandoned her cereal and was now digging for the toy buried inside the box. “It’s almost time to catch the bus.”
Melanie found a plastic-wrapped plastic spoon in those golden sugar flakes. “It changes color when you put it in your milk,” she said excitedly, opening it immediately to test it out.
“You know I hate that nickname, Donna.”
“Whoa!” the girl exclaimed. Her red spoon had turned green.
“That’s pretty neat. Now go get your backpack.”
Melanie disappeared down the hall and Donna cleaned up the dishes. She put away the cereal and studied her bare cabinet for a while, dreading a trip to the grocery store after work. Jules joined her at the sink while Donna rinsed the bowls, standing so close that Donna’s elbow was passing through her sister’s vaporous arm, an eerie sensation she’d never grown accustomed to.
“I appreciate everything you’re doing for our daughter,” said Jules. “I just wish you’d take our opinion into consideration more often. We’re still her parents.”
“How about archery lessons?” asked Dave.
Jules ignored him. “I know you want what’s best for her.”
“Of course I do,” said Donna, drying her hands. “You think I haven’t done everything in my power to make a good life for her here? I didn’t expect to have a kid of my own, Jules. Then you and Dave go and fall off a cliff and here we are. I think I’m doing just fine. You’ve seen her report cards.”
Jules smiled that catlike smile of someone who wants more than the bare minimum, but doesn’t know a polite way to ask.
“What’s the official name of horse riding?” asked Dave.
“Equestrian,” said Donna.
“Equestrian club. Melanie would look so elegant on horseback.”
Melanie returned from her bedroom with her backpack and asked, “Who are you talking to?”
“No one.” Donna looked at her watch. “Hurry now, the bus is coming.” She bent down and straightened Melanie’s purple raincoat, then kissed her on the forehead and sent her on her way. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Jules sniffled. She was crying again. “My baby,” she said.
“Does she still talk about us?” Dave asked.
“You guys know the answer to that. You’re here more than I am. Yeah, she mentions you sometimes but not as much as before.” Donna went to the bathroom to check her make-up before leaving for work. Jules followed her down the hall and joined her in front of the mirror, where only Donna was reflected.
“You know I don’t like it that she takes the bus by herself.”
“What do you want me to do? Her school is on the other side of the city. There’s no time to drive her.”
“I think you’re losing interest in her.”
“In Mel?” Donna shook her head, then clicked off the light and left Jules in the dark, bee-lining for the kitchen. “I love Mel more every day,” she said, pouring herself a quick last-minute cup of coffee.
Dave was still at the table, having an after-life crisis. “She’s forgetting us, like I’ve forgotten my mother’s eye color.”
“She’ll never forget us,” Jules said sternly to her husband, entering the kitchen two steps behind her sister. Then, to Donna, she said, “Please don’t call her Mel.”
“She doesn’t seem to mind.”
“She’s a child. She doesn’t know any better.”
“What about joining her with a swim team? Synchronized swimming.”
“I’m not signing her up for any goddamn swimming team!” Donna yelled, slamming her empty coffee mug in the sink. “No horse club, no dancing classes, no ballet and no piano! She can do whatever she wants to do, for crying out loud. Let me handle this!”
Donna snatched her keys from the hook above the counter. She checked her reflection one last time in the mirror near the door, poking at the sleep-deprivation bags beneath her eyes. Single parenting was her full-time unpaid job, waitressing felt like something she just did on the side for tips.
“You look tired,” said Jules. “Maybe you should get a nanny.”
“I think it’s you two who have been wearing me down,” replied Donna. “I can’t seem to do anything right when you two are around.”
“We didn’t ask to come back this way,” said Jules.
“No, but you certainly thought it was okay to stick around.”
“Pardon me for wanting to watch my daughter grow.”
“No,” said Donna, opening the door. “You just want to make sure I don’t mess up, and you want to be there when I do. But guess what, Jules? I’m not going to mess up. Everything’s going to be fine. We don’t need you around. I love you, I do, but you’re not making it any easier to let you go. Mel’s moved on. Maybe it’s time you did, too.”
Donna left for work.
Sitting behind the wheel, before she started the commute, she called the exorcist and told him the key was under the mat.