The Veil

"Doesn't work like that. I'm not psychic. I just know what the ghosts tell me. I know you've got something bad going on, but that's all."

I swallowed. "Shouldn't you be calling them spirits or something?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Don't matter to me. Don't matter to them." She laid some cards out on the table. She was completely silent for a few moments, reading something only she could see, and then she sat back against her chair. "It's worse than I thought."

"What? What's worse?"

She looked up at me. "You had a loss recently." Something cold sank into my stomach. "I have the 5 of Cups here, see? Whoever you lost was very important to you. You are feeling deep grief and sadness. You need to process it. Was it your mother?"

"Yes," I whispered, holding onto the table so I wouldn't pass out. She nodded.

"3 of Swords. Some heartbreak is headed your way. Not the kind you might be thinking. And here is The Tower. This is a warning. You need to--"

"I don't want a tarot card reading. Just... Gabe brought me here for... to connect with my mom. I don't want to know all this."

"She wants you to know all this." 

I gasped and sat back from the table. "What?"

She looked over my shoulder, but I saw nothing when I glanced behind me. "She knows you've been sensing something in your apartment."

"What?"

"She's here and she wants you to know something is coming. Something wicked. You have to remember her."

"Remember her? I would never forget her. Never." I realized then I was crying. I had that overwhelmed feeling, like if I spoke more I might burst into inconsolable sobs. I just shook my head, unable to say anything else.

"I don't think she means it like that," Elaine said, her voice dreamy and her eyes unfocused. "It's more like remember her as she was. She doesn't want you looking for ghosts, and she doesn't want you becoming one, either."

I shut my eyes. This was all make believe. I didn't believe in ghosts or spirits or whatever they were called. I abstractly believed in heaven, sort of, but I struggled with that, too. I did not believe this woman was communicating with my mother. She couldn't be. I was doing this because Gabe suggested it, and that was all. This cackling old lady was a charlatan; my mother would have nothing to do with her.

"She also wants you to know to hear what she said. In the dream. Don't go looking for her."

I stood up so fast that I upended the table. Tarot cards went everywhere, but Elaine still remained seated calmly. 

She stared at me intently.  "She's worried about you, kitty."

"What... what did you just call me?" I clutched the back of the chair to keep myself upright.

Her eyes flickered. "You know what I called you."

"How could you possibly know about that? How?" I sobbed.

"And another thing. That boy," she said, pointing towards the fronton the shop, "is not--"

Gabe came running into the room. "Is everything okay in here?."

He started picking up some cards, but Elaine snatched them from his hands. "I told you to never touch my cards."

He stood and breathed out heavily. "Fine. Pick them up yourself." He turned to me and took hold of my upper arms. "Are you okay, Cat?"

"I'm fine," I said in a strange voice. I knelt and reached for some cards, waiting for Elaine to snap at me. She didn't. "We're not done here," I told him, but Elaine shook her head.

"We are."

"But--"

"Just think about what I said and be careful. And remember." Elaine put her cards away and walked back out as if nothing happened. There was an eerie silence after she left, and then Gabe hugged me.

"Sorry. I never should have let you sit with her. She's... Well, it doesn't matter now. I'm so sorry she made you cry."

I pulled away. "She knew things."

He pushed my hair back from my shoulder and shook his head. "She's always doom and gloom, and not always right. Don't listen to a word she says. I don't know why Sally works with her."

He said something about needing to go back out front and told me to sit down and relax for a while, but I wasn't really listening. Once I was alone, I lowered myself down on the chair and went through everything again. I would have written it all off except for her saying "kitty".  And quoting my dream. Only Jackie knew about that. There was no way Elaine could have known that information. And if that was true, then what she said about the dream was true and something evil was coming for me. I shuddered in the cold room, and then my eyes caught on something.

In her rush, Elaine had left behind a tarot card on the floor.

It was The Devil.

________

Gabe took me to an Italian restaurant I had wanted to try for months, but it was difficult to muster any excitement after the reading with Elaine. We were silent on our walk, and silent at the table as the server poured our wine. 

"You're sure you're okay?" Gabe finally asked. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured him. "Just need to have some wine and pasta and I'll be back to myself again."

He gave me a cautious smile and clinked his glass against mine. "To wine and pasta."

I toasted him back and then took a generous drink. My heart was still pounding from the experience, but my hands were steady and I wasn't crying. It could have just been shock, but as we ordered dinner and talked about various superficial things, I wondered if I wasn't feeling a little relief, too.

For months, I was certain I was losing my mind. I never really believed in ghosts before, so the alternative was that I had unraveled, lost my grip on reality. But then Elaine confirmed that maybe I wasn't imagining all of this after all. Maybe Mom really was visiting me. Maybe something really was wrong and it wasn't all in my head. 

As frightening as the warning was, I was comforted by the possibility that Mom still existed somewhere, that she was still watching over me. 

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" Gabe asked, but luckily he was smiling. "Not that I blame you. Elaine is a lot."

"I'm sorry. I just--"

"What did she say to you? I didn't want to ask right away but it's obviously affected you." 

I played with my fork. "I've been... I think my apartment is haunted. I don't know if it's Mom or if it's... someone else. Something else."

Gabe's expression was completely blank. "Why do you think that?"

I explained what had been going on and told him the rest of what Elaine said. When I was done, I took a deep breath and finished my wine. The server came out with our dinner and then the silence from earlier returned. I couldn't bear it.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

Gabe looked up. "No," he said firmly. "I don't." He took my hand and squeezed it. "It's just that I wouldn't believe everything Elaine said."

"I want to see her again. She was able to connect with Mom and there are just so many things I want to know, want to say."

He shook his head. "She frequently gets things mixed up. You don't have to go through Elaine to contact your mom. Let's meet with Sally and see what she has to say. I promise I wouldn't steer you wrong."

I shrugged. "Sure, but Elaine knew so much. I didn't believe in all of this but she convinced me."

"If you think she's impressive, wait until you meet Sally." He squeezed my hand again. It reminded me we were on a date and I had spent all of it either spacing out or talking about my mother. 

"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I'm ruining our date by going on and on about this."

Gabe waved his other hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I figured it would be like this after Elaine freaked you out so badly. I'm just happy to be here with you."

I looked down at my wine, too shy to meet his intense gaze. "That's nice of you to say."

"I'm not saying that to be nice. And I wouldn't say I'm a nice person."

That made me smile and meet his eyes. "No? I would. You're helping me. You're very patient. What's nice in your book?"

He looked away for a moment with a smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The rest of dinner went like most good dates go. We talked more, laughed a lot and got a bit tipsy. There was some awkwardness when we left the restaurant.

"Thanks for a great night," I said. "I had a great time."

He leaned over and I closed my eyes. I felt his breath on my lips, and then felt his lips on my... cheek. My eyes fluttered open just as he pulled away, and I caught his filthy smirk before he smoothed his expression. His lips still twitched; he was laughing at me.

"I had a great time, too." He traced my lips with his fingers. "Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?"

"Absolutely," I said, not even embarrassed by my eagerness. 

We walked in companionable silence for most of the way until a black cat appeared, crossing the street until it came to a stop a few feet away from us. It froze and started hissing at us.

"It's okay, pussycat," I said, kneeling and making kissing sounds. I looked up at Gabe but his eyes were on the cat. "I love animals."

"Mm."

The cat wouldn't move. Its hissing grew louder, and it kept its yellow eyes on us. On Gabe, I realized.

"I love them, too," he said after a minute. "They don't love me, though, as you can see."

He turned then to smile at me. It was like a spell had ended--the cat stopped hissing and flew away, knocking into some piled up garbage in its desperation to flee. 

His apartment was larger than I expected, with high ceilings, large bay windows that rivaled my favorite windows in Alex's apartment, beautiful crown molding and a view of Central Park. His building even had a doorman and lobby. I wanted to ask how he managed to live in such a beautiful and obviously expensive place, but of course I politely refrained, though I desperately wanted to know. 

Gabe must've seen it on my face when he brought me a glass of wine, however, because he gave me a knowing smile. He gestured around us and shrugged. "I had a big inheritance." 

"Ah," I said. "You didn't have to tell me."

His smile grew, but he said nothing. I walked around a little, taking in his furniture, the prints he had on the walls. I noticed a theme in the paintings he had collected. After taking in the last one, I looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

"Too dark for you?" he asked. 

"They're all paintings of demons."

"Not all, but some are, yes."

I stroked the frame of one. The painting was all different tones of red, black and gold. A naked man--perhaps Satan--stood on a rock, apparently calling out to followers. "Don't they unsettle you?"

He joined me and looked up at the painting. "No."

Another was of a woman sleeping with a demon on top of her chest. The demon stared back at the viewer, making the painting extra frightening.  "I've seen this one before," I said. "Some people with sleep paralysis wake up and think something or someone is on their chest. Like nightmares, but they're awake. Or they think they're awake. Or they're hallucinating." I looked back at him, catching his stare. "I can't lie--they're freaking me out. Why would you want to surround yourself with art like this?"

"I inherited them. Imagine I'm about to say something deep and slightly pretentious, okay? Something about how the dark can be just as beautiful as the light, that there is beauty in ugliness and terror and evil. The truth is, though, I just think they're cool." He sipped some wine and studied me for a moment. "Have I scared you away?"

I thought about what my mother would say if I told her I went on a date with a man who had multiple paintings of devils on his walls. She would tell me to run, probably, that he was a weirdo or a psycho. Maybe if she was still alive, I would run. I wouldn't know how kind and helpful he could be.

"No," I whispered. 

He licked his lips and smiled. "Good. I have an idea." He took my hand and led me to his couch. "I'll be right back."

He went into his bedroom for a few minutes. I tried to avert my eyes from the frames on the walls, but they kept returning to them. I could almost understand what Gabe meant about their beauty. The deep colors, the shadows, the blurriness contrasted with the sharpness of the brutality were all impressive. 

There was one I hadn't noticed before, one that was startlingly bright and simple compared to the rest. I stood and approached it to get a better look. It featured a crowd of darkly dressed people in the middle of some party. The focus was on a man walking among the dancing couples, his intense and brutal gaze on a woman dancing with another man. They were the only faces that could be made out, pale and striking against the darkness of the rest of the paint. I stepped closer to look at the woman's face. She looked like she was screaming. The man looked familiar to me, which was silly because he was just a whirl of paint, really. But still, something was achingly familiar about him. My face pressed closer until I could see the woven cotton of the canvas.

"Okay, so let's see if you've ever played with one of these before," Gabe said behind me. 

I jumped and clutched my chest. "God, you scared me."

He laughed. "No kidding. Sit down. Have you ever played with a ouija board before?"

I sat back on the couch and nodded. "A few times as a kid. It's fun."

"It can be." He put the board on the table and knelt on the floor across from me. He put his fingertips on the planchette and gave me a wicked grin. "You game?"

"Are you sure? That feels like a bad idea."

"I'm sure. Your mom might even come through to us this way." 

The longing I felt to hear from her nearly made me dizzy. I took some wine to fortify myself. "Okay."

He took his hands off the board and put them on my shoulders. "Don't be nervous. This can only be a good thing, right?" He stood to light a few candles, and then he turned the lights off. He caught my eye in the low light. "Just to set the mood."

"That's only making me more nervous."

Gabe snorted and sat back on the floor again. "Now, there is no wrong way of doing this, but I've heard bad things can happen if you don't say goodbye. I think that's the one real rule I've ever stuck to."

"Okay."

"Put your fingers with mine," he said once he had his back on the planchette. 

My hands shook a little as I joined his. "Now what?"

He smiled. "Now we say hello. Try it. Ask if your mom is here and if she wants to talk."

Feeling a little ridiculous, I complied. "Um... hi, Mom. If you're here. Are you here? I would love to... to talk to you. Please. If you're here, let us know."

The candlelight flickered. I held my breath and looked up at Gabe. He shrugged and said, "Keep talking."

"Mom, if you're here, please talk to me. Please. I miss you so much."

The planchette moved lightly under our fingertips. I gasped and pulled my hands back.

"Never do that," Gabe hissed. "Put your fingers back now."

I impulsively followed his orders and brought my fingers back. I was beyond startled that he'd snapped at me. Since we'd met, he'd been all sweetness and politeness. Of course, anyone could be snippy and get angry, but his tone was so vicious. There was something in his tone beyond fear. Something like anger, maybe, or perhaps something darker. And all over something I thought was meant to be fun.

He took a deep breath. "Sorry. Just don't do that again. It's dangerous."

My entire body was shaking now. I tried to brush off what had just happened and sat up straighter. "How? Why?"

He shook his head. "I'll explain later. Now, ask your mom a question."

Suddenly, I felt terribly tired. I wanted to go home. I wished I had never agreed to this. I was tempted to stand and make some excuse, but I thought back to what just happened when I was startled enough to unthinkingly pull back. Plus, Gabe had said not to end a session without saying goodbye. I didn't want to make him angry again, and God knew I had enough frightening things going on in my life. I didn't want to provoke the spirits, or whatever they were, further.

I pushed myself to speak. "Mom, am I in danger?"

The planchette began to move beneath our fingertips. I remembered watching a TV show once that about how it really moved because of the users' subconscious guiding, but I couldn't see how either of us could be moving it. We were barely putting any pressure on it.

It moved to "yes". Tears came to my eyes. "Oh, God. This can't be happening."

"Don't pull away," Gabe warned. He dragged the planchette back to the lower center of the board again. "Ask something else."

"How do I stop it?"

The planchette tore itself from under our control. We both gasped this time, and Gabe pulled back from the table in shock. It moved in a clear, precise way.

It flew to R. Then to the right to land on U. And then it finally slid to the left. To N.

"Run," I whispered. 

Horrified, I pulled my hands away.

"No!" Gabe yelled. "Come back!"

I bolted up and tried to run, but my feet tangled together and I knocked into the table. The candle beside the board fell onto it, and a bright flame shot out into a small explosion. The board burst into fire. 

Gabe and I scrambled away from the table. He ran into he kitchen and returned with a pitcher of water. He threw it onto the flames, but they grew larger and hotter.  The smoke alarm went off. I stood in a silent daze and watched as the letters warped and melted. 

"Cat!" Gabe called. "We need to go!"

He grabbed my arm and started dragging me to the apartment door, and just like that, the board's fire went out. All that was left was ash.

We both stood there until our breathing was normal again. 

"How is that possible?" I asked in a small whisper.

Gabe approached the table and poked at the black remains of the ouija board. After a moment, he said, "It's not."

He looked back at me and the expression on his face sent chills throughout my body. "What?"

He picked the planchette up from the floor. "We didn't say goodbye."

________

We silently cleaned up the mess the board had made. Gabe made us tea after and we sat on his couch. I looked around us, paranoid something was going to come charging at me, and thought about what happened. 

Not saying goodbye made sense to me. I hated goodbyes, and had a nearly pathological fear of people leaving me. I really hated endings of all kind. I particularly hated the endings of movies, even happy ones. There was something about the finality of it all that disturbed me. I thought frequently about the semi-impermanence of permanence, if that makes sense. Places would go on existing to host other people long after I left them, and my former existence would make no difference. Eventually I would be forgotten altogether. A place I stood and touched and breathed in would become just another place to someone else. It was like visiting historical sites and knowing, in an abstract sense, that people lived and worked and loved there, even if you didn't know their names or all the details of their daily lives. One day that would be me. It made me feel strange.

Of course I'd stumble into the one situation where saying goodbye could become dangerous. Like apparently not saying goodbye in a ouija board session.

"Why does saying goodbye matter?"

Gabe ran his hands through his hair. "I have no idea. I just know it's a rule. An important one."

"Well, what if I go buy another board and we do it again, this time saying goodbye?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "You still don't believe, do you."

"I don't know... I'm openminded. What if we call Elaine and--"

"No."

"But you didn't let me finish what I was going to say."

He shook his head but didn't take his eyes from mine. "We haven't exhausted all of our other options yet."

"I don't know why you're so against--"

He cut me off with a deep kiss, pressing his weight into my body until I was sinking deep into the couch. The collision hurt a bit, but Gabe didn't apologize and I strangely didn't care. I didn't even stop him from kissing me, from running his hands over my body like he was searching for something he knew he'd find. He heaved in a breath and pulled away from me, moving across the room in an obviously futile attempt to stop what had already been put in motion, his wild gaze darting to mine. And my heart beat faster, faster, faster....