Dead Letters(57)



“We are Geminis, the twins, and we live between the worlds, one twin living and one dead. I, Gemini, call thee—show yourself!”

I found this profoundly spooky—I had never heard Zelda describe our sun sign this way. The creeps were amplified when the planchette jerked beneath my fingers, skating across the board on its cheap felt feet.

“Zelda, knock it off! I know that’s you!”

“It’s not! I’m not doing it!” Zelda answered, eyes wide. In the dark, she looked genuinely surprised. The planchette skittered agilely, coming to rest on the H.

“That’s not funny!” I protested. Zelda shook her head—she was frightened. The planchette moved, swiftly spelling out a message from the dead. H-E-L-P-M-E.

“Zelda, don’t! I want to stop!”

“I’m not doing anything! It’s Aunt Nina—”

“It’s not! I’m not playing anymore!” I tried to stand up, but someone—Zelda, I fervently hoped—gripped my wrist with icy fingers. I stumbled, careening into the sheet and knocking over a candle, which instantly ignited the fabric. In horror I watched as Zelda writhed, struggling to free herself. And in the light of the flame, I convinced myself that there was another body moving beneath that fiery shroud. Panicked, I shrieked and began pawing at the sheet. Zelda emerged with her own yelp. We stampeded to the bathroom door and flung it open to be greeted by Marlon, who had obviously just taken the steps three at a time, and Nadine, close behind him.

Marlon dashed into the bathroom, scooped up the smoldering sheet, tossed it into the bathtub, and switched on the taps in a smooth ballet.

“Girls! What on earth were you doing?” Nadine glared at us, recovered sufficiently from her momentary alarm to look pissed off.

“It was the Ouija board! Zelda wanted to call Nina and she came!” I blubbered, giving up my sister without even batting an eye. I was rattled, and wanted to be comforted.

“Nina?” Marlon sucked in air, looking at Nadine in concern, as though worried the very name would set her off. He wasn’t wrong.

“Why? Why would you try to speak to her?” Nadine whispered in a tone that presaged very bad news.

“She’s our aunt,” Zelda said, stubborn and unrepentant. “You never talk about her.”

“Girls, I think maybe it’s time for bed,” Marlon suggested, trying to escape the bathroom.

“She was terrified! She asked us to help her! She begged us—”

Nadine slapped her, suddenly and hard. We were all absolutely silent, watching Zelda. She didn’t raise her hand to her face, or start crying, as I might have done. She simply walked out of the bathroom and slammed the door to her room. The three remaining members of the family Antipova stared at one another, each of us feeling guilty and not knowing what to say. Nadine bit her lip, as though wanting to apologize, but I, a follower, as ever, imitated Zelda and left, leaving my parents to clean up the soggy mess.

Zelda hadn’t locked her bedroom door, and I slunk into the room, shamefaced and remorseful. She was sitting on the floor, with a book about supernatural sightings open in front of her. I didn’t know whether she’d been reading it earlier or had just opened it now.

“Do you think it was really her?” I whispered, curling up next to her and leaning my head tentatively on her shoulder. Stiff at first, Zelda finally took a deep breath and relaxed, giving me permission. And forgiveness.

“I wanted it to be,” she said softly. “I wanted to be able to speak to the dead. To talk to someone in our family.” I thought she might be crying, and I laid my fingers on her wrist uncertainly.

“What you said about being a Gemini—one of us living, one dead?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, sniffing deeply and shaking her head. “I was just playing.”



Wondering if I’ve puzzled out the fifteenth letter, I kneel down and look into the bottom shelf of the bookcase in the library, where the games are kept. I tug out the Ouija board and paw through the box, looking for any sign of my sister. There is nothing. To be thorough, I examine the Scrabble set as well, but I’m already losing enthusiasm for the hunt, with my head pounding and light.

I head down the steps, moving slowly. Marlon isn’t on the couch, and he (or Opal) has folded up his blankets and pillows.

While I’m in the kitchen, ferreting around in the fridge, the doorbell rings. I’d forgotten we even had a doorbell, and for a few slow-witted beats I don’t recognize the sound. I wait, half-hoping someone else will appear to answer it, but of course they don’t. Unhappily, I gird my loins for social interaction.

I pull open the door, and sitting on the step is a large envelope. The inscription on the front reads: Open me, Ava, only one I see! I scan the driveway and the borders of the yard in frantic frustration; she was just here, in the flesh! She’s nearby, possibly yards away from me. But I can’t see her. She’s lurking offstage, watching me dance. The inscription makes me shiver as I look at the blank, silent pines that must conceal her.

Dear Obsessive, Obtuse Ava,

O is for…obvious! Oh, you’ve figured out the game at last! Of course, I knew you might need some extra clues; close reading was never really one of your strong suits. Ornate as the whole thing may seem, I thought you might appreciate my final efforts to make you think, make you squirm, make you work a little harder than usual. Or maybe just force you to recognize that the whole world usually just bends over for you, that you are never truly challenged, and that it’s very good for you when someone puts you through your paces.

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