Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,53

where she was staying. She griped about the short length of the couch, and the lack of a TV, but otherwise seemed semi-satisfied. About an hour later, I hung out in the kitchen while she botched an attempt at dinner. I peered in the deep stew pot and couldn't identify the vegetables within the greenish sludge.

"Have you ever seen a ghost?" I asked her, attempting to sound nonchalant as I took a seat at the table. I shifted the full napkin holder back and forth.

"What do you mean?" Corinne turned to me while stirring, her nose scrunched up. If I didn't know her better, I would assume it was the noxious fumes the pot was starting to emit. But that was Corinne's default face.

"Have you ever actually, with your own two eyes, seen a ghost?" I asked again, lacing my fingers together.

She paused for a second, tapping gunk off of the spoon and setting it on a paper towel on the counter.

"I've had paranormal experiences before," she said cautiously, coming over and taking the seat across the table from me. I watched her pick out her words. "I've heard them and I've sensed them. I can feel when a spirit is nearby, or even if it's just the energy that the being has left behind." She moved her arms in a windmill motion as she talked, giving her the loony psychic aura.

"So the answer is no?" I asked bluntly.

She met my eyes and looked irritated. "That's right." She let out a great big sigh, and her pointy shoulders shuddered underneath her navy blouse. "Not for lack of trying, however. Guess I didn't inherit mommy's little gift." Her tone was unmistakably bitter.

I perked up. "Mommy's little gift?"

She laughed, her lips curling into a sneer. "You mean Claire didn't tell you?" Off of my puzzled look, she said, "Of course not. I'm sure she thinks it's shameful to the family."

I waited for her to continue. It didn't take long.

"My mother, your grandma, Eleanor, saw ghosts. Not just communicating with them, she saw them, as real as anything," Corinne divulged.

My jaw nearly dropped off of my face. The skin covering my spine slithered. What was she telling me? I briefly remembered the file marked Eleanor's Medical Records in the basement.

"She wouldn't want me telling you," she said matter-of-factly, standing and returning to her pot stirring. She had missed her calling as an old-fashioned witch decoration, complete with cauldron. Or maybe that was just Hell having its affect on me.

"I won't tell her," I pleaded. "I'd really like to know."

"She never told me that much about it," Corinne said, but I couldn't tell if she was lying or not. "She would tell me stories when I was little, but around the time I turned ten she..."

And here she paused, and I could practically hear her brain picking out her words again like a toy crane machine.

"She stopped."

There was finality in her tone that told me not to push it. When a person irritated my aunt, she would give them the cold shoulder for months, sometimes decades. She stood and started rooting around for plates in the cupboards. I got up and retrieved the regular dinner plates.

"If someone wanted to go about having a s茅ance, what would they do?" I asked as innocently as I could muster.

"Someone as young and inexperienced as you wouldn't be able to do it," Corinne said finitely. I felt insulted, especially considering the fact that at the moment it seemed like I was having more contact with spirits than she ever had.

"Well, I wasn't necessarily talking about me," I backtracked. "I was just curious. For a beginner, what would be most helpful?"

She brought two steaming bowls of gunk to the table and set one at my place. I sat down and swished the spoon around, mentally envisioning the microwavable ham and cheese pockets in the freezer. Less nutritious, maybe, but definitely tastier.

"Where's the necklace that your mom gave you for your birthday?" Corinne asked unexpectedly. I wondered if she would lecture me about not wearing it enough.

"I keep it in my jewelry box," I said, wondering how I could avoid eating the soup without hurting her feelings.

"How about you go and fetch it while I order pizza?" she asked. That was surprising for her, considering she hardly ever indulged in junk food. Of course, she had actually tasted her own food.

I ran downstairs and picked the necklace up out of my jewelry box, inspecting it tentatively. I hadn't forgotten how