“Tell Jamie I say, ‘hi’.” Meisha turns back to feed Johnny another bite of pureed steak.
With great trepidation, I answer and hold the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”
“John. Hi. I have bad news.” My sister’s voice cracks.
No longer can I convince myself everything’s fine. She never calls. This is real.
“What’s wrong, Jamie?”
Meisha glances back at me, her forehead wrinkled and lips pursed in question and worry. My eyes linger on her pink rosebud lips, but when I sigh and close my eyes, it’s not my wife’s lips I see. Instead, an image of my mother’s pursed lips haunts me as she leans toward my father for a kiss.
“She’s dead, John,” Jamie manages to sputter with a heaving effort. From the hoarseness in her voice, she’s recently been crying and still is by the sound of it.
This isn’t the worst part though. This news doesn’t match the heaviness building in my body. What horror am I waiting for?
“I’m sorry, sis. When did it happen?”
Mom’s death isn’t much of a shock to me. Ever since Dad’s heart attack a few years ago, she’s been sickly and fragile. Jamie lived a few miles from her and carried the brunt of taking care of her. I used my new relationship as an excuse to remain distant. After Meisha and I married, she quickly became pregnant, and I used that as a reason to be even less involved.
“Two days ago.”
Two days!? It took her that long to call me?
Not that I judge her too harshly for it. When Jamie’s boyfriend dumped her for another man, Mom and Jamie became pretty co-dependent. She probably hasn’t climbed out of bed in two days.
I brace myself for Jamie’s next words. Dread’s cold fingers grip my spine. This is it.
“You need to go out and settle the estate, John.”
These simple words slam into me, rending the air from my lungs. The room spins. I must sit down before I collapse. I fall into the nearest chair. I can’t go. Not back to that house. Shame washes over me, burning my cheeks.
“They need you there first thing in the morning, between 8 and 9 am,” Jamie continues. “You should probably leave tonight.”
“Wait. Why me?” My sister, though two years my elder, doesn’t seem emotionally equipped to handle this.
“The will wasn’t changed after Dad died. They decided a long time ago to have you as executor.”
This makes sense. Jamie can’t keep a houseplant alive. Who would trust her with an entire estate?
“John? Are you there?”
“Yeah. I’ll go get packed.”
* * *
“Drive safe.” Meisha kisses me, one arm around me in a hug, the other carrying our sleepy son.
I kiss her back fiercely and ruffle my son’s soft, brown hair. With his beautifully blue eyes, he’s the perfect mix of the two of us. “Daddy loves you both.”
“Call me when you get there,” my wife requests as I slide behind the wheel and close myself in.
I roll down my window to wave at them. “I will. I promise.”
Moments later, it’s just me, the open road, and a deep, foreboding twist in my gut.
The night had been clear when I left my house. After driving for about twenty miles, rain rushes down in sheets reminding me that I forgot to replace the worn windshield wiper blades.
The torrent takes me back to that day when everything changed.
I sat on the polished wood floor in the great hallway near the grandfather clock. Jamie and her best friend Becky dash in squealing from outside where the sky had just opened up and was dumping buckets. My tenth birthday had recently passed, and Becky’s birthday had been the day before. She carried a large, shallow case under her arm that looked like the fanciest Monopoly box I’d ever seen. Their hushed giggles attracted my attention, and I looked up from my Matchbox cars.
“What’s so funny?”
“Where’s mom and dad?” Jamie ignored my question, her head swiveling around as if our parents could materialize at any moment.
“In their bedroom, I think. Mom said something about needing a nap. What are you guys doing?”
“I got an Ouija board for my birthday.” Becky beamed, hugging the box to her chest as if it was precious. “We’re going up in the attic to play with it.”
“What’s that?” Their obvious excitement had me curious, but I probably won’t be allowed to play with them. When Jamie was with her friends, especially Becky, I was her “annoying little brother”.
Jamie’s eyes sparkled. “It lets us talk to dead people. And spirits. We’re going to get all kinds of answers from them.”
“How do you know it does that?”
My sister rolled her eyes. “Because Becky’s mom is a Wiccan. She knows all about these things.”
“Can I come?” I knew better than to ask, but this sounded like fun.
