Wandering Spirits By Robin Alexander Do you ever question your sanity? Sloan asked as she stoked the fire, its orange light filling the otherwise darkened room. The answer played on my lips but faltered. She glanced over at me, and her dark eyes searched my face for a second, then she looked away. I liked her face, especially the way the sides of her mouth drooped slightly. Imperfections that women would sell their souls to eradicate always intrigued and captivated me. I wondered if I d find her as appealing if she did anything to tame the wavy dark hair that clung to her face. I leaned back and contemplated her question. Until recently, the answer was no, but over the last few days, I d really begun to wonder I d worked for a sporting goods company since I was seventeen years old, and at thirty-seven, my loyalty was rewarded with walking papers and a small severance package. Another victim swallowed up by huge chains that seemed to spring up on every corner. My job loss coincided with the demise of a six-year relationship that I should ve seen coming, but the words I m just not in love with you anymore wrecked me nevertheless. Are you crazy? Doug, my neighbor and confidant, asked with a shake of his head. He circled my car, looking at the few items I d decided to take with me. The rest of it was piled next to the Dumpster. You re really gonna do this, aren t you? I nodded with a half smile. He d laughed it off when I told him I was going to get rid of the few scraps of furniture I still owned and wander aimlessly as long as my severance and savings would last. He squeezed my shoulder as I climbed into my car. Where are you going, really? I don t know. I closed the door between us and started the engine. His red brows knitted together. Are you ever coming back? I don t know the answer to that, either. I watched the bewildered expression on his face fade in my rearview as I drove away. I didn t buy a map, had no destination in mind. I just drove. I went east until I came to the Atlantic, then
north. I d stop when I got hungry or tired. I slept in my car a few nights, but when I got tired of truck stop showers, I started renting cheap hotel rooms. I stopped at places I d read about or seen on TV. I visited Provincetown, Massachusetts, and spent hours staring out at the water on Maine s coast. I felt free and lonely but never homesick. Somewhere along the way, I grew tired of the interstate and took to the back roads on my meandering trail westward. Weary of the road and hungry, I made a stop that would change everything for me. The tiny eatery was packed with what looked like locals. They all studied me as I stood awkwardly looking for a place to sit. The scraping of a chair in the far corner made me turn. You re welcome to sit here, a friendly voice called out. Everyone glanced between us for a moment, then turned back to their meals and conversations. I didn t want to sit with a stranger and make casual conversation. I wanted something hot to eat and a cup of coffee. My first impulse was to turn and go, but when she smiled at me, I approached her table. I m Sloan, she said as I sat. I m Sonny, I said with a slight smile. You re lost, aren t you? I did look out of place, but the way she posed the question made me feel like she was stating more than the obvious. True, I had no idea where I was, but I was lost in more ways than one. It wasn t until that moment that I realized I was starved for human interaction. She reached over and tapped the ring on my forefinger. I d bought it on my way through Provincetown a spinner ring with the Human Rights Campaign symbol. Aside from the how d the hell did I get here look on your face, I noticed the ring when you sat down. There aren t many of us around here, and we never advertize. Sloan s food arrived. A big steaming bowl of what looked like chicken noodle soup with a biscuit on the side. My mouth watered. What can I get for you? the waitress asked as though she was annoyed by my appearance. I ll have what she s having. When Miss Attitude stalked off, I looked back at Sloan as she stirred the soup. Is it any good? It s the only thing edible in this place besides a hamburger. You made a good choice. We kept up with the small talk. She found it very amusing that I hadn t realized that I was in West Virginia. I found myself opening up to her and telling her that I d run away from home.
She looked at me with compassion and an understanding that in some strange way made me feel like we were kindred spirits. She opened up, too, and told me about losing her partner two years earlier in a car accident. Everything I had been going through seemed insignificant then, and I found myself wanting to take this stranger into my arms and comfort her. When they began switching off lights, we took that as our cue to leave. Lightning flashed in the distance, and I could smell the rain coming. Cold damp wind blew around us as we walked through the parking lot. I knew it wouldn t be long before the storm would be upon us. I looked around at the darkened buildings for a familiar hotel sign, hoping she would join me but lacking the courage to ask. Where s the nearest hotel? About seventy miles, but it s a dangerous drive for someone who doesn t know these roads. Droplets of rain began to fall, and I looked over at my car knowing that I was going to be sleeping in it after I came down from the coffee buzz that left me jittery. You won t make it five miles up the road in the weather that s coming. She looked at my car as we stood next to it. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked at the ground for a minute before saying, You could come home with me. I white-knuckled the door handle as she shifted her Jeep into low and climbed the mountainous terrain going higher and higher until my ears popped. For a girl from south Louisiana, the West Virginia hills seemed like Kilimanjaro. She maneuvered her vehicle with practiced ease off the blacktop and climbed higher still on a gravel road. I had no idea how to get back to my car, and with startling clarity, I realized that I didn t care. Her headlights fell upon a small wood-frame house nestled against a rock wall. Watch your step when you get out. It s slippery. Despite her warning, I slipped and slid across the flat rocks that made up her walkway. You d think I d never seen rain before, I said with an embarrassed grin when we walked up on her porch. In Louisiana, it rains all the time. Is that where you re from? she asked as we stepped inside her kitchen. You said down South, but I wasn t sure exactly. Yeah, I said as the storm rocked the house full force, as though it had been waiting for us to get inside. This weather really reminds me of it. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed almost simultaneously, then everything went dark.
Well, that sucks, Sloan said as I listened to her moving around in the darkness. A flicker of light appeared seconds later as she struck a match and lit a candle. I was going to offer to make you hot buttered rum. Would you like a piece of candy instead? She scooted an orange plastic bowl covered in black cats next to the candle. It s Halloween, ya know. Is it? I had noticed a few kids at the diner dressed in costume but hadn t made the connection. I don t want any candy, thank you. I leaned against the counter and looked around her tidy kitchen in the dim light with its neatly labeled spice racks; it smelled of something sweet recently baked. What do you want? she asked, drawing my attention back to her. You. She was in my arms in an instant, bruising my mouth with kisses and pulling me desperately into her bedroom as though she was afraid I would change my mind. Clothing was flung to the floor in our haste to get to each other. When I felt her skin against mine, I was shocked by the warmth. After feeling nothing for the last two years in a dead relationship, I felt heat. I felt passion. I felt desperation, not because it had been ages since I d shared this part of myself with anyone, but there was a need to touch, to give, to feel alive. Her caresses telegraphed that she shared that same longing. I relished every moan, every sigh that wasn t drowned out by the insistent rolling thunder. Her hot breath on my neck and the way she cried out when she came made me want to devour her again and again, but she wasn t satisfied just being the recipient of my affection. I found myself on my back with Sloan straddling me on her hands and knees. The only connection between us was her burning kisses. My skin felt like ice without her, and the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees in a matter of seconds. Lightning flashed outside and filled the room with a strobe-light effect. I could see glimpses of Sloan s smiling face as I tried to pull her closer, but she would pull back, teasing me. I have to keep my distance from you. She pinned my hands over my head with one hand. You re very distracting, and I think it s my turn. Her fingers trailed over my stomach and down one thigh. Lightning flashed again, filling the room with light, as she slipped into me. Over her shoulder, I saw someone standing there watching. She took my gasp as pleasure and didn t stop. When lightning flashed again, I saw nothing and chalked it up to the shadows. After a few minutes, I really didn t care. It started at my toes, like ice being dragged across my skin and sent shivers up my entire body. It moved up my shin, and after it crossed my knee, it grew more intense, painful. I couldn t move. I
just lay there as the touch pressed deeper into my flesh, then at the top of my thigh, it dug into my skin. Who are you? The voice was close to my ear, the breath so cold. I awoke with a start, alone and disoriented until I got my bearings. My left leg was protruding from the blankets, which explained why I was dreaming that it felt like ice. But it didn t explain the scratch that ran up my leg nor the four crescent-shaped marks on the inside of my thigh. Fear had me in its grips as I wondered if Sloan had been the one to mark me. But I awoke as the nails pierced me; there was no one else in the room. Maybe I did it. I was looking down at my blunt nails when the bathroom door opened and Sloan stepped into the room with a cloud of steam following behind her. Good morning, Sloan said with a beaming smile. The power came back on, and I left plenty of hot I watched the color drain from her face as she noticed the angry welt streaking across my thigh. What happened? I think I did it. I pulled my leg under the blankets, uncomfortable with the way she was looking at me. My skin gets dry when it gets cool. Sometimes I scratch in my sleep. I saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes, then they narrowed. It was clear she didn t believe my excuse, but she played along. The lotion next to the bathroom sink is excellent for dry skin. I ll have breakfast ready by the time you re done. I watched her leave the room, then I curled up under the covers again, warming myself before making the mad dash to the bathroom. On the bed stand was a picture of Sloan and a woman I assumed was her deceased partner. Sloan looked happy, but the woman next to her stared back at me almost angrily. It made me feel as if I was invading something very personal, sacred. And that feeling got me moving. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, I saw Sloan quickly place my duffel bag with my belongings inside the bathroom door. Sloan was sweet and considerate, her passion was mind blowing. If I was going to stay around, I d I pushed those thoughts from my mind as I tenderly washed my stinging leg. I had just begun my nomadic adventure, and I wasn t willing to put down roots so soon. Who are you? The same voice that woke me was again close to my ear. I spun, nearly losing my balance. My cheek felt cold as if it had been touched by ice. My mind began its own dialogue as it warred to make sense of the experience. By the time I finished bathing, I had myself convinced that I was simply sleep deprived. Before I began my adventure, I cut off my hair. Now it hung just shy of my shoulders all one length. I hardly recognized my own reflection as the dark wet tendrils fell across my eyes like
curtains, revealing only my nose and mouth. Who are you? I asked the image staring back at me with a grin. Who are you? It was all around me as the temperature seemed to drop in the bathroom. I wrapped the towel tighter around myself, feeling self-conscious and cold. I didn t believe in ghosts, but I knew I wasn t crazy, either. Even still, I felt embarrassed as I dressed as though someone was watching, apprising. Feel better? Sloan asked when I joined her in the kitchen. I know you like your coffee black, but I took a guess on the eggs. Scrambled okay? Wow, thank you, they re perfect. I sat in front of the food wondering if I could get over the case of heebie-jeebies I was feeling long enough to get my appetite back. I took a few bites and watched as she moved her own food around her plate, taking an occasional nibble. Do you have to leave today? she asked suddenly. Not really, no. She gave me a sideways glance. I d like you to stay another day if you want to. I couldn t resist her. She looked so nervous and shy, a stark contrast to the woman I slept with the night before. I ll stay then. She smiled and nodded, seemingly happy with my response. I have to go in to work, but it s only for a couple of hours. Do you mind? I wanted to say yes, but instead, I bit my lip. Is there anything I can do for you while you re gone? I m not that great of a cook, but I can chop the hell out of some wood. Anything to get me out of the house for a while. I didn t say that last part aloud. You can relax in front of the fire, watch a little TV. I won t be long. I followed her to the door, and she looked at me for an awkward moment before placing a quick kiss on my lips. I won t be long, I promise. And then she was gone. Laundry, I ll do laundry. I went back to the bathroom to gather my things. I hesitated for a second before opening the door. Nothing creepy in here, it s all good. I felt so stupid for talking to myself, but it calmed my nerves as I gathered the clothes from her hamper and grabbed my duffel bag. I sorted everything into two piles darks and whites. I loaded the dark clothes into the washer first, added detergent, and started the machine. When I turned, two separate piles of whites lay at my feet. Sloan s clothes had been separated from mine.
I turned that house upside down. Searched every closet, every cubby hole, any place someone could possibly hide. A creeping suspicion gnawed at me the entire time that I wouldn t find anyone. After an hour of fruitless searching, I had to accept it. I marched straight into the bedroom to the picture I d noticed earlier and laid it face down. Turning my back to it, I walked into the kitchen and cleaned up the morning s dishes. When I returned to the bedroom, the picture was sitting back up, and there was a look of contempt on the face that stared back at me. I backed out of the bedroom calmly and walked to the back door with my hands in my pockets. The skin on the back of my neck tingled. I knew someone or something was very close behind me. As I opened the door, I called over my shoulder, You don t know who I am, but I know who you are. My cool façade vanished the minute my feet hit the wooden steps. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit, I said under my breath as I ran down the driveway. Once I was far enough from the house, I chastised myself aloud. The number one rule of the road Don t make eye contact with people at rest stops after dark has been moved to number two. The new number one is, Never, and I mean never, leave your car somewhere and let a woman bring you to only God knows where! I looked down the long gravel driveway, still breathing heavy from my tirade, and tried to remember how long it took us to get here. She couldn t have been going more than thirty miles per hour. It seemed like half an hour but I was in a hurry. Maybe it just seemed that long. Shit. One thing was sure; it was cold and I was in a T-shirt. I had to go back in and at least get my jacket. My mind was fighting what I d seen as I reluctantly walked back to the house. Maybe I separated the clothes myself. Maybe No, there was no disputing the picture thing. My knees felt like they were knocking as I walked up the porch steps. Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the door handle and found the door locked. Thank God I remembered to at least put on my shoes. The cold front that blew in the night before had my teeth chattering. It was overcast and windy, and I just knew I was going to die on that porch. I walked around the back of the house and found a small tool shed, but as my luck was running, it was locked, as well. There s only one thing to do. I picked up the ax and eyed the back door. When Sloan arrived a bit later, I d chopped enough wood to keep her warm for a month. I was sweating and needed another shower, but at least I was warm. She approached with a smile. It s not that I don t appreciate what you ve done, but I wish you hadn t gone to all this trouble.
I wiped at my wet brow and dropped the ax. Are you going to tell me there s a log splitter in the shed? Would you prefer that I lie to you? she asked with a sad smile. Just this once. She held out her hand to me. Come inside. I brought lunch. I took her hand and walked with her to the porch. My step faltered as I considered going back inside. When she reached to open the door, she turned and looked at me. Did you lock yourself out? You could say that. I shrugged. How long have you been out here? she asked as she unlocked the door. An hour or so. She held the door open for me. I m going to get the food out of my car. Why don t you go in and shower, and by the time you get out, I ll have your plate ready? Then you can relax. Relax, I repeated under my breath as I walked timidly into the house. I was coming to terms with the fact that her dead partner was hanging around, and she wasn t particularly fond of me. She did, however, allow me to bathe in peace. You started the laundry, Sloan said as I walked into the kitchen. Thank you. It would ve been finished by now, but my mishap set me back. She pushed a sandwich across the bar toward me. An open-face piled high with turkey covered in gravy. I was ravenous. After I d eaten to the point of misery, Sloan led me to the couch and ordered me to lie down. She covered me with a blanket, added a couple of logs to the fire, and took a seat on the hearth. Do you ever question your sanity? she asked. When my reply didn t immediately follow, she began to confess what I wanted to hear, but then again didn t. You re the only woman I ve ever brought home because sometimes it feels like Cindy is still here. I could certainly understand that. After all, this was their home. But reading between the lines, I didn t think that s what she meant. Do you see her? I could tell by the way her neck stiffened and the nervous glance she gave before turning to look into the fire that I d struck a nerve. I ve heard it said that when you miss someone, your mind plays tricks on you.
What kind of tricks? Things are moved around. It s probably just me putting things back like she always kept them and not realizing it. I was so glad she had her back to me. If she would ve been looking at my face, she could ve read me like a book. I know what you re going to say, it s not really healthy for me to stay here all alone, but that problem will be rectified come spring. This house was her grandmother s. She left it to Cindy and her younger sister, who has given me until spring to find a new home. She ll be moving in then. I m sorry, I said, not really knowing what to say. The old place was in disrepair and needed a lot of work that I doubted Sloan would be able to afford. It s just as well, she continued after a minute or so. I feel like I ve just been watching over things for her. It s never really felt like home to me. All the furniture is Cindy s grandmother s, and everything had to be kept just the way she left it. Plus there are just too many bad memories here. Why have you stayed this long then? I made a place for her on the couch when she left her spot by the fire. I don t make much at the store. Not enough to pay rent and eat at the same time. She shrugged with a sigh. I ll go back to Jersey and stay with my parents until I get back on my feet. I m waiting until the last minute to do that. I found myself wanting to help her, but what could I offer? I was basically a nomad wandering with no roots, no stability. Never mind that I barely knew her. So I cowardly changed the subject. What was Cindy like? Sloan was quiet for a moment while she toyed with a button on her shirt. Cindy had an adventurous spirit, always physically active, constantly working on one thing or another. She built the shed out back, Sloan said with a wistful smile, then it slid from her face. She looked at the fire for a second before continuing. She changed, though. I guess about six months before her accident, she lost interest in all that mattered to her. We stopped hiking, which was always a passion for her, then she became bitter. I felt guilty for pushing, but I couldn t help it. Bitter about what? I took her hand. Sloan shrugged. I have no idea. She was always angry, and sometimes I felt like she was pushing me to leave, but she d never come right out and say it. She wouldn t tell me what she was going through, wouldn t let me help her, so I just hung around hoping that the woman I knew would come back.
And she died before you found out what the problem was. She nodded and stared at our joined hands. How about a movie, something funny? I took the cue and let the conversation drop. We spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch watching movies and eating popcorn. I couldn t help but feel that we were being watched as Sloan lay with her head on my chest. At times, I felt a cold draft blow over us, but Sloan didn t appear to notice. We didn t make love that night. I was too unnerved to initiate anything. I m not sure if Sloan sensed my ambivalence or if she felt uncomfortable, as well. Instead, we crawled into bed and held on to each other like we d been lovers for years. I lay awake most of the night waiting for Cindy to do whatever she was going to do, but she never came. Sloan had rolled over away from me and was sleeping on her side as I quietly climbed from the bed. I dressed and gathered my things. It was time for me to leave, and I didn t have the guts to tell her face to face. I wrote her a note and left it on the bar. I managed to hitch a ride back into town and was relieved that my car was still where I d left it. I pushed all thoughts of Sloan from my mind as I got behind the wheel and turned the key. It was cold outside, but my car felt like it was fifty degrees colder. I let it run for a minute, then turned the heater wide open while I waited for the engine to warm. Who are you? The voice was close to my ear like it had been in the house. Fear manifested itself in tiny pinpricks that spread from my head to my toes, and when I looked into those dark dead eyes, I knew it was Cindy. She was sitting in the passenger s seat. Her icy fingers rested on my arm and kept me from moving. What do you want? I asked numbly. Her hand left my arm, and she slapped at her head angrily. Inoperable brain tumor, that s what they said. Her voice was all around me and sent chills down my rigid spine. I didn t want her to see me lose all motor function like they said would happen as it progressed. She wouldn t leave me no matter how mean I was. That s why you didn t tell her the truth. You knew she wouldn t leave you alone, I said through chattering teeth. I ve driven through these hills since I was a kid. It wasn t an accident when my car left the road and landed at the bottom of that ravine. Though I didn t want to, I looked at her closer then. Part of her forehead was concave. I clamped my eyes shut tightly to resist looking any further.
I thought when you died, that was it. Nothingness. I was wrong. I m trapped in this place, left to watch her in her misery. Cindy s hand returned to my arm, and she gripped me so tightly it hurt. Take her from here, she demanded. I opened my mouth to explain why that wasn t a good idea, but nothing came out. Cindy s eyes bore into me. She s sitting in front of the fire right now like she always does. She s dying inside. Looking into Cindy s eyes then, I realized that I saw the same hollow, dead look in Sloan s. Okay, I ll go back for her, I said, stunned by my admission. If she was pleased, Cindy s face didn t show it. She stared at me with the same blank expression. Never come back here. There ll be nothing to return to. Cindy s words seemed to hang in the air after her form disappeared. Thankful that I paid attention on the ride to my car, I followed the same route and pulled up in front of Sloan s place. As I sat trying to figure out what to say, she walked onto the porch and stood with her arms folded across her chest. She looked at me questioningly. I climbed from the car and walked timidly to the porch. I m sorry for leaving that way, I said as I stopped at the steps. You re forgiven, but that still doesn t change the fact that you re leaving, does it? Her tone was soft, almost sad. I shifted from foot to foot for a moment, then said, Come with me. Where? I have no idea. Pick a place and we ll go. She shook her head. I can t just up and leave. Sloan, you ve said that nothing in this house belongs to you, and come spring, you re gonna have to leave. I don t have a lot of money, and what about my job? She took a step backward as if she were afraid I d snatch her away. I have enough money to get us anywhere but here. We ll find work, and if we decide we don t like that place, we ll move on. I watched as she chewed at her lip. We don t know anything about each other.
I know. This is crazy, but I just want you to come with me. I promise to take you home to Jersey if you decide you don t like me. And what if you don t like me? I ll make you ride on the hood. She laughed and shook her head again. You re right, this is crazy. We agreed not to make any promises about the future. We lived one day at a time, traveling across the country until we finally settled in Montana. We managed to land jobs at a horse ranch and eventually bought a small farmhouse. That was eight years ago, and even though our friends think we re insane, we celebrate our anniversary on Halloween. Through the years, the last thing Cindy said to me niggled in the back of my mind: Never come back here. There ll be nothing to return to. Out of curiosity, I went online and went through the archives of the local newspaper. The house burned to the ground three months after we left. The cause a gas leak. Whether it s true or not, I tell myself that Cindy found peace the day I took Sloan away.