These Old Haunts

Eugene

It has been two days since Mae Arlea has told me her story.

When I asked her if it would be okay if I came again, she said yes.

She is different than the rest of the patients I have interviewed. There is almost an air of mystery around her, and I can't figure out why.

Mae looks like any other woman I've come across.

She's a good height, moderately built, with silky black hair that she usually wears down. She is pretty, with delicately curved eyebrows and long lashes. Her nose is slightly crooked, but it adds to her mystique rather than take away from it.

Nevertheless, the most intriguing thing about her is her eyes.

They are an amber brown, not very unordinary in their color, but I swear I see fireworks and wonderlands every time I look into them.

And that arrogant stuff?

That was all a ruse.

Well, most of it was.

The reason why I acted like a jerk was to put up a stubborn front.

People like Mae like to pretend. They pretend because they feel like they can't be their real selves, due to the danger of unfair judgement.

Since it's raining, we sit in the parlor instead of the garden, with dimly lit candles, the air feeling cozy. The atmosphere can only be described as "romantic."

Mae's in a lavender-colored dress with a neckline that shows off her collarbones. It isn't too frilled or frivolous as her sister's, but is meant to make her look delicate.

After our previous meeting, I certainly consider her to be so.

Not delicate as in weak and shamed, but strong and vulnerable.

Now that she has finally told someone about what really happened, she can no longer hide.

Do I believe her?

Yes.

Why?

Like I said, fireworks.

I take off my coat and set it on my chair. In any other lady's presence, it wouldn't be proper thing to do, but being a doctor, I get special privileges.

I sit, the chair set across from her, and I can feel her eyes watching me.

I look to see that her eyes are red. She has been crying.

I don't mention it.

"So."

I break the still air with a single word.

She looks at me expectantly.

"Considering where we left off, I'm not sure what to talk about next."

Her lips part.

"Can I tell you what happened last night?"

I look at her blankly.

"What happened last night?"

"I had another visitor."

"Oh."

I shift in my seat, putting my elbow on the chair armrest, one hand under my chin.

"Do you often see ghosts?"

She's silent for a second, and then says, "Some ghosts are so quiet you would hardly know they were there."

I pause and think.