Chapter 2

Chelly and her mother had discovered the trick for sustaining their relationship revolved around short visits—three days tops. In and out, before they got the chance to get on each other’s nerves too badly. Atlanta was a long drive, one Chelly seldom made. Grand Rapids was a short plane trip, one that her mother frequently enjoyed.

“Of course I’m still glad to see Maya. Haven’t we had this conversation before, Mother?” Chelly glared at Brenda Rankin, watching her place the microwave popcorn dish on the card table in front of the white sleeper sofa. These were the only two pieces of furniture in Chelly’s living room. She removed the cards from the desk drawer in her bedroom, waiting for her mother’s response. She and her mother looked forward to an evening of Uno whenever she came to town, and Maya always came up in their conversation.

“Well, a ghost…” Her mother paused to pat her coiffed white hair, then changed course. “I think Maya’s visits aren’t as helpful as they used to be. It’s not like she’s giving you stock market tips from beyond or lottery numbers. And I’m not being critical, Chelly, like you always accuse me of, I’m just saying.”

“Mother, if I’m sensitive, it’s because of the way you…never mind.” Going there and opening a can of worms would have identical results. She would have said, “It’s the way your overly pragmatic nature colors everything you say and do.” Instead, “Seeing Maya comforts me,” is what came out.

Brenda raised her eyebrows to the ceiling, placing innocence on a well-aged face. “Just because I suggest you ask your doctor for biannual CAT scans I’m being critical? You never know. Hallucinations often have medical causes. And really, Chelly…the way you live…” Her gaze swept the room. “I’ve seen movie lobbies with more character than this living room.”

Sighing, Chelly rubbed a place near the corner of her eyelid and said nothing, used to Brenda’s view of her world.

“Your vision of Maya is a crutch. It always has been. When you were so lost in your grief at the beginning, that was one thing. But now this hallucination is an anchor to your past.”

Chelly silently debated whether to assert Maya was not a hallucination for the zillionth time, or overlook that and defend the value of her visits. She decided on the latter. “If I could leave the past behind me and move on, Mother, don’t you think I would have by now?”

“You don’t want to. People do it all the time.”

Chelly gave half of the double deck of cards to her mother for her to shuffle. “Here we go again. You mean because I haven’t remarried? Not everyone is lucky enough to fall in love twice, or have a chance at a second family. I don’t want that, anyway.”

“My point exactly,” Brenda said smugly. “It’s the same one I’ve been making for ten years now. Why would you want a new family when you think you can see and talk with a member of your departed one?”

Merging the cards again, Chelly dealt. “It is what it is. This topic is closed for today, okay, Mom?”

“Fine. When I’m gossiping about your father’s girlfriend’s kleptomania, you say you want real conversations about things that matter and less fluff.” She shrugged. “When I talk to you about serious life issues, you shush me.”

Unable to sidestep the guilt trip, Chelly blurted out, “She’s my daughter. I’m her mother. Why wouldn’t I want to be close to her?”

“There’s supposed to be a boundary between the dead and the living.”

“What’s supposed to be holds no meaning for me. I was not supposed to lose my child and husband right before my thirty-second birthday.”

“That was ten years ago.” Her mother’s hand grasped her own, the heartfelt sincerity apparent in her eyes. “Chelly, your houses and your plays are nice, but where are your friends? Who’s going to pick up your medicine when you’re sick—not because it’s convenient but because they love you? Who’s going to make singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you priority one when your dad and I are no longer around? I’m worried about you. It’s been ten years since we lost them, and I’ve only met your office mate and that old goat upstairs.”

Chelly withdrew her hand and picked up her cards. “Next time you come, I’ll plan a little party.”

“Why do I think little is the operative word?”

Munching popcorn, Chelly looked at her stylish mother, determined to remain immune to her caustic yet well-meaning remarks. “It may be true I have more acquaintances than friends, but I’m not socially isolated. I date. And don’t call Kelvin an old goat. He’s very sick.”

“You date. Yes, you’ve mentioned this Jaden fellow, but you keep people at a distance and I think…well, you know what I think.”