Page 198 of Haunt Me

“Right,” Wes says, glancing over at me. “We’ll talk about it later. Some privacy, you know?” He winks at her and stuffs his idiot face with roasted potatoes.

They get their precious ‘privacy’ three hours later, when everyone is stuffed to the gills with ham, potatoes, turkey cookies and Lou’s admittedly gorgeous cupcakes. The house is filled with people half-snoring on random surfaces while Christmas music plays quietly from an old speaker downstairs.

Spencer, damn him, is wide awake, and he and Eden are talking in low voices in the kitchen. He’s washing dishes, and he’s forbidden her to touch anything.

I try to ‘help’ him clean up, but he ushers me out the door.

Then he closes it. I kneel down and press my ear to the keyhole, like a mature person. Manuela has gone home to put Noah down for his nap, so no one is here to stop me from acting my age. Which, apparently, is four years old.

“Right,” Wes says to Eden. I hear the tap turn on, then the clinking of dishes as he washes them. “What should we write and produce, d’ you think?”

“When?” Eden asks.

“Let’s talk about tomorrow for starters. The Christmas play for the community center. Once that’s done, we can talk about a long-term project, if that interests you.”

Eden says nothing, which I know means she is interested. A lot.

“Do we have to write something from scratch for the center?” she asks finally.

“Not from scratch necessarily,” he replies. “We could adapt a few scenes from a book we love. We should have a production for Christmas, right? That was a joke, the rehearsals we did before, by the way. If weactuallydo it, we’ll do it the right way.” His‘actually’was super British and annoying, and I know, just by hearing it, how invested he is.

“That was not a joke, that was an epic fail,” Eden says and they both laugh a little bit. I want to strangle Spencer a little bit.

“Still,” he says, “we should have a proper play.”

I can see right through him. I know what he’s doing. Left to our own devices, Theo, Lou and I will descend into drunken oblivion. But this way, we will have fun even though we’re stuck inside. Plus, he’s making Eden talk about herself in a way I have never quite managed to do.

They talk endlessly about books and I nearly doze off, ear pressed to the keyhole.

At first, it’s on the table to adapt a scene fromPride and Prejudice, but Eden says they did a production of that last year withthe community center kids. Eden played Mrs. Bennet and her dad played Mr. Bennet; they had a blast.

Wes appears to have lost the power of speech temporarily. My ears perk up.

“Oh, and it was a musical,” Eden adds. “Did I mention that?”

“You did not.”

“Yeah.”

Ok, I need to know more about this musical, asap. The only thing keeping me from bursting inside this door is my curiosity about what they’ll say next. I have never seen this side of Eden, and I absolutely adore the way Spencer is drawing her out. He’s making her feel safe, and she’s revealing so much of herself that I am completely and utterly mesmerized.

The things they are talking about are mundane, silly even. But aren’t these the things that make up our life? What is more important than the mundane?

“So, shall we do a musical?” Spencer says hopefully.

“I don’t think so.” For once, Eden sounds more assertive than freaked out.

“Ok, a play then. You will write it?”

“Do you think I should?” Eden asks, and I hold my breath.

“I think you should,” Wes replies. “You are a writer, yeah?”

“Yeah?” she repeats uncertainly, and I stifle a laugh.

“Stop listening at the door, Zay!” Wes laughs his head off. He is enjoying this way too much.Ass. “Well?” he asks Eden.

“You want me to write it?”

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