Chapter 19 The AI Autocorrect of Great and Unnecessary Suffering #2
Though I admit that if it weren’t Baldy but Hanry here—armed with a grand gesture and romantic overtures—I might be willing to stop walking. As it is, Hanry doesn’t want me. So I have to focus on what matters: finally catching my train.
“Samantha! Would you stop walking?”
“Grandma’s ascended, and I’m out of here,” I gloat as I pass the lawyer by. “Sic a new spell on me, and I will personally attack you with knives.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Baldy says. He strides to meet my gait with unexpected speed, though I guess that’s necessary in order to push through the station’s crowds. “I do not expect you’ll want to return anytime soon.”
“Nope,” I say, my hackles rising. How dare he peg me so well? “Why are you here?”
“If you would allow it, I thought we might take this opportunity to do some final paperwork. For the next court hearing, in which we will be required to apply for the estate debt to be… Ahem, allow me to cut to the chase. I need your permission to make future hearings virtual.”
I squint, amazed at the restraint. The brevity. The fact that behind Baldy crouches a little shadow amid the station’s landscaped pocket garden, its twitchy shoulders ruffling the dead leaves of a browning hedge. A twig is being poked, repeatedly, into the leg of Baldy’s too-tight trouser pants.
I probably should’ve remembered to call those gnomes off. Oh well.
“Please sign here, here, and here,” says Baldy.
“Not so fast,” I say, pocketing his pen. “I’ll need time to read these first. I’ve learned a thing or two about contracts.”
He sighs with annoyance, as if he’s the one with a train coming, not me.
But when I flip through the contract, confirming the name of this government form with an internet search, it becomes clear Baldy isn’t pulling a fast one.
I sign every blank. And at the end, Baldy puts out his hand as if to shake mine.
“Samantha—”
I recoil. “Eww.”
“Keys,” he says, the skin of his forehead pinching between the eyes. “For the Realtor.”
Oh. Right.
I dig into my pocket, wishing I didn’t suddenly feel churned up, like I’ve misguidedly finished off Grandma’s frozen ziti.
They’re just keys. I came to Salem to do this—to put everything to rest for Grandma Rose.
I should be ecstatic: this is the final step to get me back where I need to be.
I can be normal and happy anywhere—absolutely anywhere! —else.
But especially in New York, where Jane and I can go to bars and not meet guys while scrolling dating apps on our phones. I can take steps toward a career that will be meaningful and stable and never the least bit unhinged.
And yet, as I deposit the keys in Baldy’s soft and torpid palm, I can’t help regretting that I didn’t pay a visit to the shop one last time to say goodbye to its half-finished wedding décor and our lopsided window display.
To the ridiculous ghost chairs. To the baubles and the burnt mirror and the plush spiders.
Well, maybe not the spiders. Those googly eyes always creeped me out.
On the platform, brisk October wind whips my hair into my face. Even so, among the crowds of costumed heathens and witches and Frankenstein impersonators and paranormal folk who seem to be cheekily not wearing their magic-disguising bracelets, my eyes catch upon a sign painted on burlap.
GOOGBYE SAbrEE
It’s being held by Mandy, red-faced and blubbering. For some reason, she’s wearing glasses and a tweed blazer. Beside her is a bassinet stroller with a baby blanket arranged over its canopy.
“W-w-we’re going to m-miss you,” sobs Mandy.
From within the bassinet, I hear a sniffle. This could be because the inhabitant is sad; more likely, it’s because the pink wool blanket has fallen so that it itches the tip of his nose.
“What a terrible thing has transpired,” says Bulan, sounding nothing like a baby.
He starts moving around. I hide my emotions by correcting the blanket. “That’s sweet, Mandy. Bulan, you’re full of it.”
“Please don’t leave,” Mandy cries. “It’s too sudden.”
I know what she means. She’s only had a few hours to process the news of my departure. Secretly, I’m impressed that Mandy and Bulan were able to meet me here to say goodbye, and with a sign, no less. It’s almost touching.
“I have to. Mandy, please don’t cry. It’s Halloween. Your favorite holiday!”
“Happy Halloween,” she says dispassionately.
Her tone surprises me. “Mandy, do you not like Halloween?”
“Not at all,” she says. “It’s so cheesy. It’s great if you love time with family, but what if you’re alone in the world? Who’s going to give you presents?”
I see what’s going on now. “You’re talking about Christmas.”
“No,” sniffs Mandy. “Halloween. It’s the worst. The music is SO stupid.”
“That’s true. And it’s starting earlier and earlier every year!” adds Bulan from within the bassinet. “Jingle hells bells, Batman capes, Jokers full of dread—”
Mandy thrusts her hands over her ears. “I can’t take any more!”
Okay, time to intervene. I fish an envelope out from my pocket and extend it. “Here, Mandy. This is for you.”
Sniffling, my ex-employee takes the envelope and shakes it. “Is there candy inside?” she asks, her tone hopeful.
“It’s your payment, Mandy. You can use the cash to pay rent or buy a month’s supply of chocolate. I recommend paying rent first. It’s easier to seduce meals from a guy than to get him to lodge you for free.”
Mandy’s bottom lip puffs out, showcasing her disagreement. I realize I may have underestimated how much chocolate she needs per meal.
“How about this,” I try again. “Keep treading water until I get access to the money in Grandma’s estate. Then I can send you more money, plus instructions for returning the other deposits to customers.”
“Where am I supposed to tread water?” asks Mandy. “The bay is freezing.”
For her sake, I hope Mandy someday learns the business of metaphors. I smile at the pixie. I’m going to miss her. And Bulan too. It’s a good thing I’ll have Jane—all the companion a normal girl like me needs.
Besides, our apartment has a “No Pets” policy. I assume that extends to severed heads.
“Sabby,” Bulan says from behind his knit curtain, “do you really think it’s a good idea to leave Mandy with so much responsibility?”
“She’s a smart pixie. She can do this. Look, she’s wearing glasses now.”
“Thanks, Sabby.” Said pixie bursts into tears anew. “I’ll always treasure your kind words.”
“I’m sorry your life has led you to believe I’m kind,” I say comfortingly.
“Don’t be fooled, Sabby. That pair of fused-together monocles is just part of Mandy’s librarian costume—” Bulan is saying when his voice is interrupted by a loudly arriving train.
It doesn’t whistle, exactly. But all the same, it hails me.
I give Mandy and Bulan one final, tight-lipped smile and a farewell salute, then close my eyes and inhale the train station’s sweet, sweet scent of burnt oil and grime.
This time, when I move forward and toe the yellow line, I don’t melt into a puddle.
Or falter. Or think about how nice it might’ve been if I were still able to attend that Halloween party with Hanry, wearing the yet-unopened couples costume he’d purchased for the occasion.
Why would I do any of that? I’m free now, a free bird.
But not an eagle or a phoenix or anything noteworthy. I’m more like… a pigeon.
And the moment I’m back in New York, I’ll be back to living my best pigeon-y life. The best life anyone could live—100 percent paranormal-free. No drama, no excitement, no surprises.
Nothing but freedom.