Page 69 of Possession

I don’t know. It’s a big change.

I have nothing to be nervous about.

Glancing at the chalk circle, I pause and try to imagine what the ceremony will entail. What Aris will look like coming out of me. Will he be a tornado of smoke, or will he look like a person?

Why do I have to be asleep for it?

It’s better that way.

A thought occurs to me. What if—

Removing me will not kill you. It will only be a nap, and one you will wake up from.

Well, that’s something, I say, trailing off awkwardly.

Aris doesn’t respond.

It has never been so quiet in my head. Aris almost always has something to say, but not now. Not when it matters. To be fair, I’m not saying anything either. This is my last chance to talk to him, and I can’t think of anything to say. If I’d known this was coming, I would’ve taken my time to gather some questions, but there is no more time.

Is it really so easy for him to leave? Again, I find myself stumped by my heady sense of betrayal.

Don’t you have anything to say to me? I ask.

No.

The sharp dismissal stings. Well, I do. What are you going to do when we’re separated?

It’s none of your concern.

None of my concern. Something like resentment stirs in my chest. Maybe even hate. Given that I live on this planet, I have a right to know if you’re planning on destroying it.

I have no plans of world domination.

That’s something. Not really a promise, but almost, though I do wonder what he will do. Where he will go.

There’s silence for a few moments as my mind works overtime. So many thoughts and questions fly through my head that I can’t process a single thing to say. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore, like having a friend whose skin cleared and teeth straightened over the summer, who suddenly can’t seem to remember your name when middle school starts.

I just need a moment to catch up with this new reality, but the longer I think and stew, the more confused I become. Why does it feel like my friend will still let me walk next to her?

I find myself struggling to stay good-bye to him. I don’t know if I should cuss him out or thank him. Demand that he tells me why he’s being so vague. Make him explain why I feel hurt by all of this. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to summarize the years of torment he’s caused, the comfort he’s provided in moments of loneliness and despair, maybe even unwittingly. Should I be grateful that he saved me, or angry that his presence put my life in danger in the first place?

Do I ignore him, be petulant? Let our last moments be tinged with bitterness? Do I ask him the questions that have kept me up at night, the ones he always so pointedly ignored?

You will adjust, he says.

I don’t know how to respond. What stands out to me is that he said “you.” Normally, it’s “we.” It’s been “we” for some time now.

There’s a knock on the door, Henry asking if we’re ready, but I hardly hear him over the buzzing in my ears. No, he can’t be here. He hasn’t given us nearly enough time.

I haven’t decided how I feel, what I should say. I need more time.

Are you ready? I ask. Why do I want him to say that he isn’t?

Yes.

That’s that, then.

With a sigh, I turn from the fireplace and stand, gaze falling to the circle. “Come in,” I say.

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