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Marlene couldn’t stop sobbing, holding the bowl in front of her. Tears trickled down her cheeks, dripping into the dish. A tiny pool was forming over the ribbon at the bottom. It looked absurd, a torn piece of blue cloth, stained with blood, but the blood was important.
Blood and tears, they were the key ingredients. To transform the pain and the sacrifice into a summoning, Marlene had to stand and sob, letting each droplet of water she shed mingle with Charlotte’s blood.
The ribbon wasn’t even something Charlotte would wear, not any more. She’d cast away ribbons and flowers to put on tight suits, golden earrings, a ring on her right finger, not her left. Frills were part of the old life, one Charlotte left behind along with the rickety house and the friend she used to explore it with.
What would Charlotte think of all this? Once she would have loved it, the ritual of blood and tears. Marlene was the one who would have shrank from it, just like she was the one who would never have entered the haunted house.
Only Marlene was the one who couldn’t leave. Charlotte had left it all behind years ago. She could only pray that somehow her former friend would hear her crying. It was taking every bit of energy she possessed to hold this bowl.
A car engine growled outside and was silent. A door opened. Footsteps, the clack of high heels tapped their way up the steps and opened the door.
Marlene shuddered, almost let her concentration break, but she managed to keep the bowl upright.
The clack hit the floorboards, only to make their way up the stairs. They moved towards the room where Marlene was trapped, waiting.
The door opened. There was Charlotte, hair cut short, dressed in a trim red suit. Lips parted at the sight of the bowl, floating in the air.
Would she see Marlene? Or just the bowl?
Charlotte bowed her head and shuddered. “You’re here. You’ve always been here, haven’t you?”
“Where else would I go?” It was a relief to let the bowl go, to let it fall, shattering on the ground. “I died here.”
Charlotte gazed at the pieces of bowl, of blue ribbon. She walked with shaky legs over to them, picking up the wet piece of cloth.
“This was my blood.” She said the words in a thoughtful, almost meditative fashion. “It should have been me. I was the one who wanted to come here. I cut myself, only to hand you the knife, but you cut yourself too deep.”
“I begged you not to leave me.” Marlene shut her eyes, not that she had eyes any longer. They’d rotted away long ago. “We made a vow, remember? We’d never leave each other. We’d always be together.”
“Why can’t you leave?” Charlotte opened her eyes, gazed at Marlene once more. “Why are you haunting this place and not me?”
“This is where the you I remember died.” Marlene reached out for her hands. “Please. I need you to stop denying, avoiding what happened.”
“I ran.” Charlotte lay her hands upon her former friend’s. Marlene could guess how cold they felt. After all, they were made of air and vapor. Her real hands were gone, too. “We both fell, but I got up again. You didn’t.”
“I was already dead.” Marlene swallowed, aware she no longer needed to do such a thing. “I found myself lingering here, waiting for you. Only you never came.”
“It was too painful.” Charlotte lowered her chin, gazed at their hands. “I was never the same after I lost you. I withdrew from everyone.”
“I know. I’ve sometimes seen you from afar, even though I couldn’t speak to me.” Marlene smiled, forcing what weren’t really lips in a fascimile of a smile. Expressions were simply memories now. “I wanted so badly to comfort you.”
“I have a lot of acquaintances. People I drink with, work with, but no friends.” Charlotte shuddered. “I didn’t want any when I lost you.”
“Here I thought I couldn’t leave because I couldn’t let go.” Marlene let out a shaky laugh. “I now wonder if it wasn’t because you couldn’t.”
“Marlene, I’m so sorry.” Tears gathered in Charlotte’s eyes. “I’m sorry I got up and left your body behind. I’m sorry I lived when you didn’t.”
“You have nothing to feel sorry for.” Marlene felt lighter, felt her fingers dissolving into air. “If it helps, I accept your apology, though.”
The release, the easing of the knot of sorrow in her chest was sheer bliss. Only she didn’t have a chest. Marlene wasn’t really there. She hadn’t been in the house where she’d died. Not for a long time.
The last thing she saw was Charlotte’s sad smile, a light gathering behind her eyes. The eyes drew Marlene, beckoning her to whatever lay beyond.
She let herself go, letting go of the illusion of a form she hadn’t possessed in a long time.
Charlotte felt her slip away, letting herself sob when she did. She’d never gotten over Marlene’s death. She’d simply pushed her grief aside, going through the motions of living.
She never imagined this avoidance would trap Marlene as it did.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, even though it was unnecessary.
Her apology had already been accepted.
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