The Unburied Ghost

Delia

Isabel is watching me watch Reva.

That means I have to be careful.

Careful with my face.

Careful with my hands.

Careful with the old, stupid part of me that still wants to reach for my sister and shield her when danger enters a room.

Reva does not understand this house yet. She thinks cages have locks.

She does not know a cage can be a glance across a table, a rosary around a wrist, a mother who has to love you from three steps away because any closer would draw blood.

She will learn.

I hate that for her.