slipped off her strappy sandals and walked around barefoot, excitedly examining the dining room table, the TV, the fully equipped kitchen. She checked out the two bathrooms, the two bedrooms. “I call dibs on this one,” she called to him from the master. He saw her bouncing up and down on the bed. “I could live here. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever been to.”
Julian’s fists were clenched, and he said nothing. His visions showed him she had been to many places.
She bounded out to the balcony and stood by his side. “Is your house nice like this? Does it have a view like this? How many bedrooms do you have? Four? Hey, so I could stay with you, too, in one of your spare rooms. What do you need so many rooms for? So, what do you dream about? Come on. You know the first fight we’ll have, you’re going to attack me with those dreams. You’re going to use them against me as a weapon. So why don’t you neutralize their power by telling me about them now, when you can use them on me not as vengeance but seduction.”
Mutely he regarded her. Was she joking?
“Don’t give me your penance stare, Ghost Rider,” she said, leaning back on her elbows against the stucco balustrade. “I can’t be shamed, I’ve done nothing wrong. Just tell me what you dream about.”
“No.”
She dropped herself into a chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. “Okay, so what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” He stared out onto Los Angeles. “What do you want to do?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Okay.” He sat down. “But not about the dreams.”
“Fine, about anything.”
But Julian couldn’t form words. She undid him. There was no sun in his bones, no light in his body. Free of gravity he flew above the moon, his soul broke loose. She was some terrible mutated sexual wandering spirit, almost whole. And then a different thing—an intoxicating, breathtaking thing—but death still came for her. All those graves, and a million miles of her to fill them all.
In silence they remained like this, sitting apart in their wicker armchairs. Music played somewhere down below, over the sound of dim laughing voices. Other voices.
Mirabelle inhaled like she was about to cry. “I don’t know why you’re acting like being here with me is the worst thing that ever happened to you,” she said, her soft voice breaking. “Do you want to just take me home?”
“I think I do, Mirabelle,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you so worried about? What makes you think if we got together that we’d even stay together? We wouldn’t, most likely. Nothing is permanent, especially in this town. Everything is just another set, waiting to be dismantled and hauled to the dumpster. We’d hook up, have some fun for a few weeks, a few laughs, nothing wrong with that. And then we’d go our separate ways.” Her lips quivered. “It would end the way most things end. I’d think about you for a while. Maybe you’d think about me. I’d ache for you a little bit, the way one does when things are over, even things that aren’t meant to be. I’d get busy with my life. You’d get busy with yours. We’d say we’d keep in touch. But we never would. And when people asked, we’d say we had a thing once, you and me. One minute it was, and the next it wasn’t. It didn’t mean it wasn’t real. It just wasn’t forever. And years later maybe we’d run into each other on the street somewhere, and you’d barely remember my name. And I’d barely remember yours. I’d say to you, hey, remember how you once loved me? And you’d say sorry, not really. And I’d say yeah, me neither.”
Julian’s eyes welled up. He couldn’t look at her.
Her shoulders were quaking. After a few moments she shrugged, like it was all never mind, got up and went inside. He heard her put on some music, a smoky R&B playlist. It sounded like Ginuwine. Yup. There was “Pony.”
“I want to take a shower before we go,” she said. “Our hot water tank broke. Is that okay?”
She showered with the door half open while Julian sat on the balcony and stared at the sky. He may have cried.
* * *
Barefoot she came out and sat in a wicker chair away from him.
Julian said nothing to greet her. He barely acknowledged she was near. But he smelled her. She smelled of coconut verbena.