Page 67 of After Life
So, we went home.
Or to my home, anyway.
And we did jack shit for two days before work crept back into our lives officially. CeCe arrived from New York, frazzled and tight-lipped about divorce proceedings and forcing a smile for anyone who asked how she was doing.
Except for me—she was a terrible liar when it came to me. I don’t know if it was a twin thing or I’d just known her long enough to see through her bullshit thing, but when she tried the it’s all fine thing on me, all I had to do was stare back at her and she shook her head. “Later,” she’d promised.
I was still waiting three days later, but I didn’t want to push—whatever it was, she’d definitely tell me but the fact she was so mum about it was not a good sign.
On the morning of day three, she’d come over for breakfast, Harrison in tow. We crammed around the kitchen table in my tiny apartment near downtown while tucking into the box of kolaches and klobasneks Harrison brought with them. “Next episode, Morrisonville,” she announced as if it were news to us.
Ezra rolled his eyes, selecting a poppyseed kolache with a small sound of pleasure. “Home of the haunted covered bridge.”
“Popular folklore convention,” I noted, nudging the box toward CeCe. “Is this the one with the goat man or the headless woman?”
She held up her hands, thumbs and forefingers extended as she pulled a face and said, in a rough, low voice, “The devil!”
“Oh my god,” Oscar laughed. “Seriously?”
“Mmm. I figured we can hike up the viewer numbers with a few of those everything-is-a-demon episodes. How do you and Ezra feel about shouting at some imps and acting super jumpy? I’m thinking of adding in a too-loud soundtrack of piano stings to make things extra spooky,” she said with a wink, well aware of the main conditions of Oscar and Ezra’s participation in the show: complete openness about what they knew in advance and no creating needless dramatics.
Oscar and Ezra both shook their heads. CeCe nodded, handing Ezra their copy of the dossier, bits redacted so as not to give away too much. Discussion fell to which equipment we’d need, what accommodations had been arranged, what was there to do in the area on the one day off we had scheduled in, and Harrison nodded for me to slip away with him as the conversation moved around us.
I followed him to the narrow balcony off my living room, overlooking a tiny sliver of Buffalo Bayou. “If you squint,” I said, “and lean way out there and look to the right, you can make out part of the Museum of Natural Science.”
“Nice.”
We lingered a bit, looking at the sliver of the city you could see through the trees and buildings on my street, talking about anything other than ghosts.
Just because we were believing a bit now didn’t mean we wanted to dwell on it. Sometimes, it was good to remember that being alive was its own mystery too.
Inside, the sound of Heinrich arriving in full glory distracted us both, and we trailed inside. He was expounding volubly about the charming little boutique hotel he was staying at, one with oddly themed rooms and that catered to the artsy, more-money-than-sense set. “Allegedly, they have a dungeon room on the top floor! A dungeon! On an upper floor!” He clicked his tongue. “I’m very disappointed in their designer but I’ll give them stars for the effort.”
Oscar’s lips quirked. “I don’t think they meant that kind of dungeon, Heinrich.”
Heinrich lifted a brow. “I know, lad. I know.”
CeCe stayed a bit longer, leaving a stack of forms for us to sign about liability, NDAs, and other paperwork for the episode along with instructions about packing actual cold weather clothes, Julian, and not just your professor sweaters and those sad emo boy flannels from college.
Harrison and Ezra wandered off to my balcony for a close-together chat, leaning against the railing and occasionally touching one another’s faces, hands, sides. Ezra caught me seeing them once and winked, making me blush in embarrassment before they resumed their private conversation.
Heinrich stayed longer, chatting with Oscar about things I knew nothing of, mostly stories from when he was a younger man and details of his stay in Savannah after we’d left. “I’m very impressed,” he said, not for the first time. “I was expecting something sad and gauche, but they’ve done an excellent job of preserving the integrity of the ghosts there.” Heinrich shot me a glance and smiled thinly. “What do you think of that, Julian? Respecting ghosts’ boundaries and treating them like people?”
“Heinrich,” Oscar said in a quelling tone. “Julian’s done nothing wrong.”
“No,” Heinrich allowed. “But the cases aren’t always going to be this straightforward, are they? There’s not always a good ghost, bad ghost situation. There won’t always be murderers and evil people seeking some sort of revenge after their bodies have ceased being useful.” He cut his glare toward Oscar. “And your grandmother would like me to remind you that this situation in South Carolina is not only an exception to every rule, but quite embarrassing for all involved.”
“Oh my god,” I muttered. “Heinrich, I don’t know what you’re getting at here but I don’t appreciate being accused of... What am I being accused of?”
He made his excuses to go then—apparently a charming young man name Geoff had asked him to some mixer at the art museum and Heinrich was going to be ‘simply devastated’ if he missed drinks with Geoff.
Harrison departed not long after, declaring an early day at the actual office in the morning, and a ton of paperwork to go through for Ghost of a Chance Productions. “With any luck,” he said before brushing a quick kiss over Ezra’s cheek and giving him a squeeze around the middle, “the paperwork will be in order and y’all will be able to sign off on your ownership by Thanksgiving.”
“Cripes, that’s strange to think about,” Ezra muttered, glancing at Oscar as the door closed behind Harrison. “Do we need to change our visas?”
Oscar blew out a soft breath, eyes wide. “I have no fucking clue, mate. Who do we talk to about that?”
They drifted off together to talk about what to do next, tinges of disbelief in their voices over the turn of events actually coming to pass and left me to my own devices. It was oddly domestic, in our strange little way, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a comfortable sort of glow burning in my chest at the idea of being home.
