by Natasha Deen
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I walked over.
“What are you doing here?”
“Came for cookies. Then I ran into Serge’s mom—”
Her oval face crimped together. “She’s horrible. Can’t stand anyone to be happy.”
I sat on the crate beside her and pulled my sleeves over my cold fingers. “Like Serge?”
She snorted. “Like anyone.”
“Yeah, but…Serge. You seem kinda conflicted.”
Amber gave me a blank look.
“He was your boyfriend.”
She shrugged and took a swig of orange juice. “He wasn’t really ‘anyone’s’ if you know what I mean. He cheated on me all the time.”
“Why did you stay with him?”
A shadow passed over her face, turning her brown eyes to the colour of mud, darkening her cheeks, and turned her mouth flat. She shrugged. “Dunno. It was easy, I guess. Who wants to be single?”
“Yeah, but you’re pretty and nice. You could have had anyone you wanted.”
Again, the shadow passed over her.
“Didn’t you ever love him?”
She stared at me. “Why do you care?”
“Because he’s dead and no one else seems to care.”
“I care.”
The way she said it was like his death had inconvenienced her.
“He was never really a man, you know?” She took another drink. Her eyes went unfocused. “He tried, but he couldn’t measure up.”
“Measure up to whom?”
She blinked. “To anyone.”
“You said that too fast.”
“What?”
“Too fast. You’re talking too fast. Who didn’t he measure up to?” The sudden image of Craig flashed into my mind. “Who did you really want?”
“Not him.”
“What’s really going on? When Serge was alive, you were his shadow. Now, he’s dead and you have nothing to say about it.”
“I’m too sick for your Nancy Drew act, Maggie.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a handful of pills.
I grabbed her wrist. “What are you taking?”
She wrenched free. “They’re just vitamins!” Tossing them down her throat, she downed the last of her orange juice.
“Were you cheating on him, too?”
She snorted. “No.” She lifted her gaze from the empty bottle to me.
I saw the sincerity in her eyes.
“Never cheated on him. He’s gone”—her voice turned heavy—“and I’m free.” She tossed the plastic container into the recycling bucket and stood. “I gotta get back to work.” Amber turned and moved to the door. Looking over her shoulders, she said, “From one girl to another: stay away from the Popovs.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The tires crunched the wind-blown leaves as the car braked to a stop. The wind had picked up. Branches of trees creaked in the wind, rubbed against each other, and sent yellow, orange, and brown leaves scuttling down the street. I pulled my jacket closer and jogged to the front door. Buddha greeted me as I stepped inside.
“Hey, Mutt.” I rubbed the underside of his jaw. “Bet you’re hungry.”
“I miss that.”
I glanced at Serge. “Being rubbed under the chin?”
A smile brought light to his face. “No. Hunger.”
I shrugged out of my jacket. The lingering smell of last night’s leftovers sprinkled the air. Dad obviously wasn’t home, yet. Up to me to make dinner.
“I miss hot dogs and hamburgers. And steak.” His expression grew wistful. “I really miss steak.”
“Can’t help you—never been a steak person.” I kicked off my shoes and headed into the kitchen.
“How can you not like steak?”
“I don’t like the taste—”
He shot me a look like I’d just threatened to kill his dog. “Have you ever had steak?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and it’s not to my taste. However—” I picked Buddha’s metal bowl off the floor and scooped a cup of dry kibble inside. Then I went to the fridge and pulled out a can of soft dog food. “He enjoys steak and lucky for him, that’s what he’s getting tonight.” I scooped some into the bowl, mixed it all together and set it in front of my dog. “Stay. Sit.”
Buddha dropped to his haunches.
“Good boy. Okay, go ahead.”
His large head dived into the bowl.
“My turn,” I said. I opened the freezer and peered at the array of pre-packaged meals.
Serge looked over my shoulder.
Weird. I could fell heat coming off his body.
“You can’t be serious,” he said. “You can’t eat that.”
“Watch me.” I grabbed pre-made lasagne and turned. “Oh, wait. That’s all you can do.”
He made a face. “Don’t be a jerk. Put it back.”
“And do what? Starve? I can’t cook.”
“Sure, you can.” He leaned on the counter and stuck his head into the cupboard.
Tried to.
His forehead smacked into the wood. “Ow!” He rubbed his hairline.
“Still working on the whole solid-gas thing?”
“I was practising while you were gone. You must make me nervous.”
I snorted. “Talk about the worm turning.”
He continued to rub his head. “Find some rice, onions, soy sauce, and an egg.”
“Because—”
“I’m going to teach you how to make fried rice.”
I closed the fridge door with a muffled thump. “Get out— you cook?”
“Since I was small.”
Knowledge of his home life rushed back to me. “Oh. Uh, I thought your mom—”
“She wasn’t always able to”—he swallowed hard, kept his profile to me—“sometimes she couldn’t help.”
I watched him for a second.
He dropped his hand to his side and jerked his chin toward the cupboard. “We gonna do this?”
“Oh.” I started out of my reverie. “Yeah, right. What do we need?”
He repeated the list.
I had just grabbed the soy sauce from the fridge when Buddha scampered down the hall. A few seconds later, the door opened.
“Dad?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded up the steps.
“Nancy with you?”
Nothing.
“Dad?” I heard his footsteps as he came into the kitchen.
“No,” he said, “she’s coming later.” He came to me and gave me a kiss on my cheek. “What’s with the groceries on the counter?”
“Serge is going to teach me how to make fried rice.”
Dad moved to one of the stools. “This, I have to see.” He waved his hand at the chairs. “Anything occupied?”
“No.” I frowned. “Actually, there hasn’t been anyone…” I turned to Serge. “Since you.”
“Anyone?” He repeated.
“Since you came, there haven’t been other spirits in the house.”
He considered this. “Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You tell me. Have you done anything to keep them away?”
He shook his head. “I’m still trying to figure out why I don’t fall through the floors.”
“What did he say?” asked Dad.
“He doesn’t know.” I turned to Serge. “You stay on the floor because you expect to stay on it.”
“So if I wanted to sink through—” He began to vanish into the floorboards. Serge yelped and hopped on to the lino.
“What do I do with these?” I held up the soy sauce.
“First things first.”
“Need any help?” asked Dad. “Or can I just enjoy this historic moment?”
He reached for the bowl of grapes and popped one in his mouth. “Will do.”
Fifteen minutes later, the rice was boiling in the pot and the vegetables sat ready.
“What did Nancy have to say?” I asked Dad.
“She’s getting suspicious.”
“Why? Of what?”
“Of both of us.” Dad sighed. “You’re not acting like a normal kid and I’m not reacting like a normal parent.”
“What are you going to do?”
He shook his head. “Your gifts aren’t mine to talk about…she and I aren’t there yet—”
“You’re worried if you tell her, she’ll bail.”
Dad pressed his lips together.
I sat beside him. “Sorry.”
He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “Not your problem, kiddo.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Not a bad place to be, having a girlfriend and wondering about taking it to the next level.”
“He should just tell her,” said Serge. “If she can’t handle it, why keep going?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dating advice from Serge—’cause you’re such an expert.”
“What did he say?” asked Dad.
“Nothing.”
“Tell him.” Serge made a shooing gesture.
“No.”
“Tell me.” Dad leaned forward.
“No.”
Dad pulled out his cell phone. “Look, Serge, tap into the note section and tell me.”
I glanced at the ghost. “He looks like he’s constipated—”
“Shut up.” Serge resumed concentrating.
I popped a grape into my mouth, “—it’s not going to work.”
Dad’s cell beeped.
Serge’s face smoothed out. “Showed you.”
I ate another grape. “How about that? You used the force within.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m stuck with Yoda.”
“Not Yoda.” The scent of veggies and starch filled the air and made my stomach growl. I moved to the stove to check the rice. “I’m not much for talking backwards.”
Serge’s eyes went wide. “He never—” He groaned. “Of all the mediums in the world, why you?”
I grinned. “Just lucky I guess.”
Dad laughed. Lifting the phone and turning it around so I could see the screen, he said, “Everything he’s saying is texting to me.” His gaze roved the room.
“He’s by the fridge.”
“Oh—yeah, she’s no Yoda. Although when she was first born, she was just as wrinkly as—”
“Change of topic, please.” I turned off the stove and looked at Serge. “Now what? I think the rice is done.”
“Are you sure?”
“How am I supposed to be sure? I boiled it for fifteen minutes. Isn’t that enough?”
“Man, I really hope you find a guy who can cook or else you’ll die of starvation.”
“Shut up.”
“I tell her the same thing, Serge.”
“You, too. Shut it.”
Dad grinned.
“Take the rice off the element and get a frying pan—” Serge looked at me. “You know what a frying pan is, right? Round and flat, with a handle—”
“I was thinking a frying pan was your face.”
“Really? Sarcasm when I’m trying to be helpful.”
I sighed and grabbed the pan.
“Drizzle a teaspoon of oil and let it heat up.”
I did. “Uh, listen, Serge—”
“The way you’re talking’s making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’m dead. Should that really happen?”
“Death is life: subjective.”
Dad glanced at me. “What’s with the tone?”
“Uh—” I glanced from one guy to the other.
“Just say it,” Serge snapped. “You’re creeping me out.”
“I have to talk to you about Amber.”
“Whoa.” Dad, his gaze on the phone, stood. He looked up and wiggled the cell. “That’s my cue to leave.”
“Wha—”
“My phone just went dead.”
“Sorry,” said Serge. “Must be reactive.”
“I’ll be in the living room.” Dad slid the phone into his chinos. Then he nodded at the stove. “Your oil’s going to burn.”
“Turn down the heat, Maggie.”
I did.
“Now,” Serge said as Dad moved out of the kitchen, “add in the onions and garlic. Don’t let it sit—move it around on the pan or it’ll burn.”
The vegetables hit the heat and began to sizzle. The tangy scent of onions melded with the garlic. My stomach didn’t just growl. It roared. I ignored it. “Amber.”
“What about her?”
“What was really going on with you guys?”
“Dating stuff.” He moved past me. “Watch you don’t burn it.”
I pushed the veggies in a circle. “It was more than that—there was something seriously screwed about your relationship.”
He sat on a stool and laughed, but not a happy laugh. “Why does that surprise you?”
“It doesn’t—”
“Are the onions translucent?”
I blinked. “What?”
He waved his hand at the pan. “The onions. Translucent. It’s a change in colour—”
“I know what it is. I’m just surprised you know, too.”
“High end porn.” He gave me a sad grin. “It’s a real vocabulary booster.” He nodded at the pan. “Add the egg.”
I cracked the shell and poured the contents onto the hot face. The albumin of the egg bubbled and frothed.
“Scramble it—push it around so you’re not just frying it, but scrambling it as well.”
I did. “Was she cheating on you?”
He didn’t say anything.
There was a feeling to the silence, and it scratched against my skin like a wool blanket.
“No,” he said finally. “She wasn’t cheating on me.”
“You’re lying.” The blanket feeling intensified, made me feel as though it was binding me.
“Nope.” He looked me in the eye. “Not lying.”
Insight flashed into my mind. “Then I’m asking the wrong question.”
His jaw rippled, his mouth tightened.
“How could you not cheat on Amber but still be with—” My eyes widened. “Were you dating Amber? Really dating or was this some weird set up?”
He blinked and broke eye contact. “What a stupid question.”
“Serge?”
“Of course we were—I was with her, wasn’t I?”
I stared him down.
“No,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t dating her.”
“Then why…why would you lie?”
He rubbed his nose and stared at the wall.
“Holy.” I almost dropped the spatula as the answer blinked into my awareness. “It’s your dad, isn’t it?”
Icy silence rolled from him, and his body turned tight, frozen.
“That’s the only thing that makes sense. You wouldn’t lie for anyone, but you’d do anything to protect your mom.”
His mouth snapped together and his lips formed a thin, hard line.
“Oh, man.” It came out as a whisper. “You guys were dating since junior high. What your dad did—that’s illegal.”
“Yeah,” he ground out, “and gross.”
“Did you ever—with her—”
“That’s disgusting, Maggie! You’d think I’d want—” His face contorted with distaste.
“No, no.” I waved the spatula like a white flag. “I just wondered if you’d been dating and he took her—”
S
erge snorted. “No. She was always his.”
“But the morning after you were killed, she said you had a video.”
“Yeah,” he said with a smile that held no humour. “For a seemingly weak chick, she knows how to take care of herself, doesn’t she? There was never a video.” His eyebrows bunched together then pulled apart. “It wasn’t always bad between us. We used to talk, Amber and me. She’d come into the church to help her mom and I’d be there—y’know checking up on my mom. But when he saw her… He sighed. “She asked me out and at first, I thought everything was okay. But she never wanted to do anything physical—not even kiss. I figured it was because of her mom, but then I walked in on her and him…”
“Gross.”
He forced a smile. “It’s fine. I cut a deal. I wouldn’t tell. He’d lay off with the things he said to Mom and he’d leave me alone.”
“But you and Amber were together since junior high.”
“So?”
“So, why would your dad kill you? He had your silence. What’s the point?”
“He hated me—”
“Yeah, but he’d hated you for seventeen years. Why now?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know why he decided to do it now. But he did it, Maggie. He killed me. I know it. Your egg’s going to burn.”
I spun around and scraped it off the pan.
“Add the rice.” His voice sounded right behind me.
I looked over my shoulder and saw him a foot away.
He came closer and heat radiated off his body. “What’s with the look?”
“What?”
“You got a look on your face.”
“You’re putting off heat.”
He shrugged. “But I also seem solid.”
“Yeah, no. Warmth is one thing, but you’re putting off heat.”
“You don’t know why?”
“Not a clue.”
“Could that be bad?”
“Could be good.”
He snorted. “With my luck? I doubt it.” He nodded at the bowl. “Add the rice, now, or else the egg’ll just burn.”
I did. “Did you threaten to out your dad and Amber, and that’s why you got back on the team?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe that’s why he killed you. He thought it was just a matter of time before you told someone.”