Two months later, Angela was finally settling back into her home. The ink on the divorce papers was drying, and life was settling. She was back where she belonged, where she should have been all along. It had taken her moving into a crappy apartment and inadvertently inviting spirits inside to decide that she had to go home, that there was no running away from her fears or her problems. Because problems will always follow you; you can’t shake them, can’t pretend they don’t exist. Angela wasn't just another lost soul, roaming about aimlessly, waiting for fate to decide for her, lure her into its grasp, and pull her down into the chasm of despair that had shrouded her since the betrayal. Too many people ended up that way in life. Apparently, even in death, if Susan and Stewart were any examples.
She'd unpacked the last of her bags, had the deliverymen set up her new bed, and poured a glass of bourbon as she sank into her new living room chair, contented. The chair, along with all of the living room furniture, was red. David had hated red. But now David was gone, and Angela was left to decorate her home the way she wanted. Her cellphone buzzed, and she picked up.
"Hey, Mom." Angela slipped her naked feet over and through her lush, plush carpet, admiring the silky, fuzzy feel of it as the fibers sneaked between her toes. It was new and held no memories or regrets.
"Hi, sweetie. Got everything all done?"
"Yes. Back home. I can't believe I ever thought for a second I should've left."
"I think the whole settlement worked out quite well for David, if you ask me." Angela had not asked, nor would she have, but her mother continued, "Better than he deserved." The bitterness in her tone was easily detected.
"No, Mom. I think he got exactly what he deserved." It wasn't worth explaining to her mother; besides, she would never believe the truth and would likely try to have Angela committed if she did tell her about the ghosts. One sister in therapy was more than enough. For once in her life, Angela's mother had listened when she recommended therapy for Andie; she had quite a few destructive tendencies to work out. Angela couldn't lie, there was a cool satisfaction in knowing Andie would be cut off from her mother and her purse strings if she didn't follow through.
"As long as you're happy, dear. But I still don't understand why you paid for his apartment. You could have left him with absolutely nothing." The sharpness of her tone snapped through the line, and Angela almost pulled her cell away from her head. Distance from the entire situation was what she wanted.
"I could have. And he knew it. That's why he took the deal without a fight. That apartment was never meant for me. I think it was always meant for him," Angela said with a grin. "He's just another lost soul . . ." Angela trailed off, imagining what things would be like for him there.
"Long as you're happy. Long as my daughter is back." A kindness laced her mother's words that had never seemed to be present before, and it felt both alien and comforting.
"I'm good, Mom. Better than I've been in a long time. I think everything worked out the way it was supposed to."
"Love you, sweetie."
"Love you too, Mom. See you for dinner Thursday." Angela hung up the phone. She set her feet on the footrest and crossed them, tipped her glass of bourbon back, and took a long pull. She swallowed and sighed. It was good to be home. Where she belonged.
The doorbell rang, and Angela jumped. She knew who was at the door, and she knew it was the last time she'd ever have to see her ex-husband again. She rose to her feet with a buoyancy she hadn't had in ages, like all the weight had been lifted from her and she didn't have a care left. She'd finally found herself, and it felt right.
She swung the door open and looked David right in the eyes, something she hadn't been able to do since the night she saw him in bed with her sister. There was nothing left, no feeling at all; no hate, no sadness, no love. How freeing. He looked much smaller than she remembered him.
"Here ya go!" She picked up a box by the door and handed it to him. The box wasn’t very heavy, but it was filled with more than just tangible things. The symbolism was profound; once she handed it to him, she was free of everything that was him. He took it from her, and the buoyancy she’d felt earlier swept over her once more. She felt like a balloon, floating through the cloudless blue sky.
"The last of it?"
"That's absolutely everything. Not a trace left behind." The tug of a smile crept into the corners of her mouth as she said the words, aware of their implications.
"Thanks again for—"
"Shh, David. Nothing more for you to say. I don't care. We're done. This is the last we'll see of each other. Take your things to your new apartment and settle in. It's a great little place. You'll see. Excellent neighbors." She wiped the grin off her face before it took her over and kept her poker face going strong. "You'll really like Susan. She's a sweet older lady."
"Thank you."
"Not a thing." She blinked slowly, deliberately, as if her eyes, too, were sighing.
"Take care, Angela. And I'm sorry."
"I'm not." She grabbed the doorknob and closed the door most of the way, leaving it about a foot open as she said, "Oh, and David?"
"Yes?"
"Don't forget the stipulations of this agreement."
"I still don't understand." He squinted, and Angela could see the little mouse struggling but faltering to turn those wheels in his head.
"Doesn't matter, really, does it? Just honor it, and we're all good."
"Ok."
Angela closed the door, satisfied in the knowledge that she'd never have to see him again. She refilled her glass of bourbon and strode casually up the stairs, running her fingertips delicately up the banister as she went. She was in no hurry. At the top of the landing, she did a little spin and danced across the floor to the sound of the music playing in her head. The sweet sound of relaxation and satisfaction laced through the melody. She didn't whistle along, though. There was no need.
In the bathroom, she bent over her new jacuzzi tub and turned the water on. Watched it fill slowly as she sipped on her glass, staring out the giant window above, which looked out over the long backyard. If she was correct in her timing, David would be calling right about now. She lit candles around the tub and dimmed the lights. The tub was half full when her phone rang. No one spoke. There was a long pause.
Finally, Angela asked, "Door is open?"
"Yes, but I—"
"Go ahead, David. I'm listening." She dipped her fingers, then her hand in the water, testing it. Just right.
David hit the speakerphone and whistled the song they’d played on their wedding day, the song that was supposed to mean something. The song they’d danced to when they held each other and promised forever, the song that now meant nothing to her but a means to an end. She stripped and sat on the edge of the tub, sinking her feet into the hot water. He whistled on and on, and Angela sat and listened. When he was done, there was a moment of silence, and then another whistle cut across the phone line from somewhere else in the apartment. David muttered, "What the—?"
As Angela smiled a smile so wide and true, she realized she hadn't been so content in years. She wondered how long she'd been unhappy before discovering her husband's cheating ways. She shrugged and decided it didn't really matter. All that mattered was now. She took another sip of bourbon as she sank deep into the tub. "Tell Susan I said hi."