Page 16 of Ghosted
“Don’t go hyperventilating on me just yet. It’s not quite so bad as that. I’m looking to sell my house, which should help quite a lot with the retirement home costs, not to mention there’s an incentive program for new seniors moving to Sunset Village. Plus it’s all inclusive, so if I plan appropriately, I only need about a thousand a month to support myself.” While it doesn’t seem like much, she hardly takes a salary as it is. She only takes enough to pay her bills, preferring to put whatever profits we make into the store and into my own pocket.
“So, we need an extra four thousand dollars a month?” I ask incredulously. Sure, it’s less than eight thousand, but that's still a lot of zeros.
I appreciate that she hasn’t tried to offer to sell me the business, considering there’s no way I could afford that. Although I guess she probably already knows since she signs my checks. We’ve only managed to do as well as we have because I’m the only employee and am willing to work as needed without taking any overtime pay. I’d like to eventually buy the businessfrom her, I just need to save for another, oh, I don’t know… twenty years or so?
She nods. “Yes, exactly. It’s either we come up with a plan to make that extra four thousand, or we lose the brick-and-mortar store and likely your apartment,” she says with a wince.
“Why are you leaving? Why now?” I ask, blinking the gathering tears from my lashes. I know she can’t control the raise in rent, but does she have to compound that with her moving away? She’s always been a bit of a free spirit, going where the wind takes her, but this move feels really out of left field. She is getting older but even still, it’s an odd choice. I never took her to be a snowbird.
Her blue eyes soften at the sight of my tears, and she says, “I know this probably seems sudden to you and that’s my fault. I haven’t communicated with you enough. The truth is, I was too prideful to admit that I need help occasionally at home. It’s also getting harder and harder to climb the stairs to my bedroom. I… Well, I had a fall last month when I tried to go up the stairs.” I suck in a shocked gasp of air, and she pats my hand placatingly. “I’m fine, obviously,” she says as she waves over her intact body. “But it scared me. So most nights I end up sleeping on my couch, which isn’t doing anything to help my back. I’ve always been happy to live alone, but now I’m afraid it’s getting dangerous.”
Despite the fact that I am surrounded by death, I’ve always thought of Aunt Clarissa as immortal. Infallible. Unshakeable. To hear her describe her increasing frailty is jarring, to say the least.
“I could help you. I could move in with you and we could rent out the apartment,” I offer. I would hate to get ridof my little place, but it would be worth it to keep Aunt Clarissa around. She’s like a second mother to me.
She shakes her head vehemently. “No. I am not your responsibility. You already do so much more than I ask of you, let alone pay you for. I can’t ask you to take care of me like I’m some invalid.”
“First of all, you aren’t asking. I’m offering. I love you and I would be honored to take care of you,” I say, truthfully.
She smiles at me and pats my hand. “Even if that is true, Rae, I’m ready for a new adventure. Esther keeps telling me all about the gorgeous beach within walking distance of her cottage and all of the amenities. Plus, I have to admit it would be nice to be in a smaller space. They have housekeepers and grocery shoppers, so all your basic needs are met. Then, later, if I end up needing more care, they have people and programs in place to do that as well.”
“You sound like a brochure,” I say with a reluctant smile.
“I’ve read over their website a few times,” she replies airily.
“This seems like something you really want to do.” I study her face, noting the way she lights up as she thinks about her new adventure. Who am I to keep her from that? “How soon exactly are you planning on leaving?” I ask, even though I’m afraid of the answer.
“Sometime before March. Sunset Village is offering a special move-in price for the first six months of residency during the winter months. It’s a relatively new place, so they’re trying to attract more residents. I think they’re banking on those who are sick of the cold and ready to move to a place where it’s rarely under fifty degrees.” I try not to balk at having less than six months to attempt to boost our income to account foreverything. “Rent will increase in January, so we have the next few months to get a bit of a head start,” she says.
I nod, the stress of it all making me feel like I’m viewing this whole tableau from above. “And you think offering a medium service will be enough to make up the difference?” I ask, getting us back on topic.
“Maybe not all of it, but it’s a start. People would pay good money to communicate with a loved one.”
“Taking money for it makes me feel… I don’t know, Aunt Clarissa. Bad, I guess.” Even though I don’t view my ability as a “gift” (despite what my family calls it), it still seems like something I shouldn’t charge people for. Helping others is sort of sacred to me. Asking compensation for that is something I’ll have to think about.
“It’s not like you’d be swindling them, dear. You canactuallyspeak with the dead. But if that’s not something you're interested in doing, then we need to come up with something else. And soon.” She searches my face and says, “Unless, of course, you want me to sell The Veil. I would give you a portion of that sale to find a new place to live and keep you afloat for a few months.”
My gaze snaps back to her and I reply, “No. You can’t sell it. Not yet. Please, let me try to come up with something. I don’t want to lose this place.”
She nods and a relieved smile pulls at her cheeks. “It means more than you know that you care for The Veil as much as I do. I never want you to feel trapped, though. If you want out, darling, all you have to do is tell me.”
I shake my head emphatically. “I don’t. This place is everything to me. I know I don’t embrace the whole medium thing, but I love The Veil. I love that we provide opportunities forpeople to spark their curiosity and introduce ritual into their daily lives. I love living above the store,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Okay. Take a breath. I didn’t want to upset you.”
Too late for that.
I’m frustrated that she sprung this on me, but all the same, I’m not surprised. Aunt Clarissa does what she wants, and the rest of us can either get on board or get out of her way. So, I guess I better get on board before I lose it all.
TEN
After my talkwith Aunt Clarissa yesterday, I feel a pressing need to clear my head. I’ve been spiraling about it all day today. I need to come up with a plan quickly, or I might have to use my Gift.
Aunt Clarissa is right: I wouldn’t be ripping people off. It’s not like I would charge them the full price if I couldn’t reach who they wanted. I shake my head, sending my long braid over my shoulder. I need to try to come up with something else first. I don’t want to be the nextLong Island Medium.
I throw my old trench coat on and lock up behind me. It’s chilly enough to need a jacket, but not so cold that I need a hat and gloves. I decide to take a walk down to Beauhurst Park and around the manmade lake there. It has a nice walking path that I like to use to get my thoughts together. I’m not a huge fan of exercise in general, but taking a walk does wonders for my mental health. It’s about two miles round trip from my apartment, so that gives me plenty of time to come up with asolution. I resolve that if I haven’t come up with at least a couple of ideas by the time I make it back home, I’ll think about Aunt Clarissa’s option more seriously.
When I get to the park, there’s only a few people milling about. I guess most of the Ravenwoodians are at home eating dinner. I shove my hands into my coat pockets to protect them from the cool air and start on the looping path that goes around the small lake.
