M. Hanover - Unclean Spirits

“And how should I think of you?” he asked. His voice was low. It was a charged moment. I could have said anything. Think of me as your friend. Your lover. Think of me the way you thought of Eric. Think of me as your wife’s confidant.

“I’m working on that part,” I said.

THE STORMS had broken the summer heat’s back. As I left the hospital, climbed up into Chogyi Jake’s van, and headed out toward the house, it felt like autumn. Still T-shirt weather, but not the assaulting sweat-down-your-back kind. It was like the city and the sunlight had reached some kind of peace. I rolled down the window as we drove, my arm lolling out into the wind of our passage the way it had when I was a kid.

Chogyi Jake and I got back to the house in the early afternoon. Ex was waiting for us, sitting on the couch with his shirt off, and a wrapping of bandages shoring up his cracked ribs. Wide bruises peeked out at the edges. His hair was loose around his shoulders, making him look vaguely angelic.

“How’s the invalid?” he asked.

“Aubrey’s fine,” I said. “The doctors are a little freaked out by a guy in a coma for eight days not having a whole lot of brain damage. I wasn’t going to tell them that the damage was spiritual. They don’t like that kind of talk.”

“Makes them think you’re a religious nut,” Chogyi Jake agreed as he closed the door.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’ll live,” Ex said.

“You should see a doctor,” Chogyi Jake said.

Ex shook his head carefully.

“I don’t want any records of this,” he said. “You go to the emergency room, they just ask questions. How did it happen, why didn’t you come in sooner. Then there’s police asking if you want to make a statement. Before long, they start putting us together with what happened to Coin. There’s nothing they can do for a broken rib except wait for it to grow back together, and I can do that on my own.”

“Besides which, he’s weirdly into pain,” I said to Chogyi Jake. “Thinks it makes him a better person.”

“It’s manly, at least,” Chogyi agreed, picking up on my teasing tone.

“If one of you happens to have a Percocet, I wouldn’t say no,” Ex said sourly, but he also smiled. “Aaron and Candace called to make sure everyone was all right. Things appear to be going well in their neck of the woods. I’m still having them check in four times a day until we’re certain the remnants of the College haven’t traced anything back to them.”

“I wish they’d stayed here,” I said. “Eric’s protections-”

“Are worn to nothing,” Chogyi Jake said. “If they were still pushing, they’d have broken through by now. And not being around us has a certain protective aspect too,” Chogyi Jake said.

“I know,” I said, putting down my backpack and looking into the kitchen. “It’s just I want everyone where I can see them. It makes me feel better. Where’s Kim?”

Ex started to shrug, then winced and went a little pale.

“She left just after you did,” Ex said. “Called a cab. I figure she’s probably in an airplane back to Chicago by now.”

I looked from Ex to Chogyi Jake and back. There wasn’t a reason to be surprised. She’d never said she was going to stay, or that she wanted to see Aubrey before she left. I had just made the assumption.

“I think she left a note or something in your room,” Ex said.

He was right. The wide manila envelope was on the bed. My name was written on it in black marker. I lifted it gently. It felt heavy, like a thick catalog or a printed schedule of classes back at school. It wasn’t sealed.

Jayné: I suppose it’s a failure of nerve leaving like this. I hope you can forgive me. I’ve struggled with this more than you know. I had dreamed of the day when I could come back to the life I left behind. Now that the obstacles that held me apart from Aubrey and Denver are gone, I find that there are more reasons to stay away than I had realized. I care for Aubrey very deeply, but as I look back at the manner in which he and I fell away from each other, I can’t in all honesty say I’m sure it would be different now. I know that if I stayed, if I saw him, I would be tempted to try. The rational part of my mind says that would be a mistake. And so I’m taking the coward’s way out. Tell him that I wish him well. Tell him that I blame him for nothing, and that I forgive him as I hope he will forgive me. Take care of yourself.

She hadn’t signed the note, but it was at the front of a packet of papers: close-set legal type with flat, low boxes to fill in. Divorce papers, completed with Kim’s information and Aubrey’s. Those, she’d signed. The only blank spot was where Aubrey would put his name and the date. Whatever relationship they’d had with each other, I was holding its end. Whatever combination of hope and lust, betrayal and blindness had led them here, it cooked down to these pages.

Except that she’d come when I called her. Not for me or for Eric, but for Aubrey. She’d risked her life for his. I flipped through the pages with my thumb, but not looking at them as much as the complexity they represented. Then I put them back in their envelope and slid it into my laptop bag.

Later. I could deal with it later.

I got online, sent an e-mail to my little brother letting him know that I was okay without going into any detail, checked some old blogs from people I used to know. Extojayne wasn’t connected. I deleted him from my contact lists like I was dropping a dead mouse in the wastebasket. Then I did the same with Caryonandon.

I sat on the bed, legs crossed, laptop humming quietly to itself, and thought. My fingers ran across the plastic keyboard, Googling a phrase at random, and then doing it again in a kind of Internet-based electronic daydreaming.

I felt like the pressure was still on me, like there was something I needed to do. The idea that it was over hadn’t really sunk in yet. Raw inertia kept me thinking about Coin, the Invisible College, how to keep Aubrey and Ex and Chogyi Jake safe, who I could go to for help. What I could do.

But it was over, and I could do anything.

I noticed the kinds of phrases I’d been putting into the search engines and realized I knew exactly what I wanted to have happen next. I found my cell phone, called my lawyer, and made an appointment for later that afternoon.

When I got there, still dressed in a Pink Martini T-shirt and blue jeans, and told her what I had in mind, she didn’t miss a beat.

I BOOKEDus a private room at the back of what my lawyer promised me was a very good restaurant. The maître d’ escorted us through the dim, well-appointed hall, real candles burning in wall sconces and live music playing in the background. The table was set for four. I’d debated inviting Aaron and Candace too, but until the investigation of Coin’s death was completed, I decided it was better to keep social contact to a minimum. If Kim had stayed, I’d have brought her too.

As we ordered drinks, I considered the three of them. Chogyi Jake, with his freshly shaved scalp and constantly laughing eyes, asked for water. It arrived in a sculpted glass bottle, freshly opened. Ex ordered a gin and tonic. He was wearing all black again, the way he had the first time I’d met him. His hair was pulled back and tied with a length of leather. Aubrey sat across from me and ordered wine. I got the same thing he did.

I raised my glass.

“If not to a job well done, at least to a job done,” I said.

“And to Jayné,” Aubrey said. “Without whom I’d still be eating through a tube.”

“To Eric,” Ex said. Chogyi Jake didn’t offer a toast, so we gave the silence a moment, then drank.

“I suppose you’re all wondering why I asked you here,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a little.