now?”
“She’s around here somewhere,” Catherine said. “I keep putting
her back in her bed and she keeps getting out again. Maybe she’s
looking for you.”
“Did you get my email?” Henry said. He was listening to
Catherine’s stomach. He wasn’t going to stop touching her unless
she told him to.
“You know I can’t check email on your computer anymore,”
Catherine said.
“This is so stupid,” Henry said. “This house isn’t haunted.
There isn’t any such thing as a haunted house.”
“It isn’t the house,” Catherine said. “It’s the stuff we brought
with us. Except for the downstairs bathroom, and that might just be
a draft, or an electrical problem. The house is fine. I love the
house.”
“Our stuff is fine,” Henry said. “I love our stuff.”
“If you really think our stuff is fine,” Catherine said, “then
why did you buy a new alarm clock? Why do you keep throwing out the
soap?”
“It’s the move,” Henry said. “It was a hard move.”
“King Spanky hasn’t eaten his food in three days,” Catherine
said. “At first I thought it was the food, and I bought new food
and he came down and ate it and I realized it wasn’t the food, it
was King Spanky. I couldn’t sleep all night, knowing he was up
under the bed. Poor spooky guy. I don’t know what to do. Take him
to the vet? What do I say? Excuse me, but I think my cat is
haunted? Anyway, I can’t get him out of the bed. Not even with the
old alarm clock, the haunted one.”
“I’ll try,” Henry said. “Let me try and see if I can get him
out.” But he didn’t move. Catherine tugged at a piece of his hair
and he put up his hand. She gave him her roller. He popped off the
cylinder and bagged it and put it in the freezer, which was full of
paintbrushes and other rollers. He helped Catherine down from the
ladder. “I wish you would stop painting.”
“I can’t,” she said. “It has to be perfect. If I can just get it
right, then everything will go back to normal and stop being
haunted and the rabbits won’t tunnel under the house and make it
fall down, and you’ll come home and stay home, and our neighbors
will finally get to meet you and they’ll like you and you’ll like
them, and Carleton will stop being afraid of everything, and Tilly
will fall asleep in her own bed, and stay there, and—”
“Hey,” Henry said. “It’s all going to work out. It’s all good. I
really like this color.”
“I don’t know,” Catherine said. She yawned. “You don’t think it
looks too old-fashioned?”
They went upstairs and Catherine took a bath while Henry tried
to coax King Spanky out of the bed. But King Spanky wouldn’t come
out. When Henry got down on his hands and knees, and stuck the
flashlight under the bed, he could see King Spanky’s eyes, his tail
hanging down from the box frame.
Out on the lawn the rabbits were perfectly still. Then they
sprang up in the air, turning and dropping and landing and then
freezing again. Catherine stood at the window of the bathroom,
toweling her hair. She turned the bathroom light off, so that she
could see them better. The moonlight picked out their shining eyes,
the moon-colored fur, each hair tipped in paint. They were playing
some rabbit game like leapfrog. Or they were dancing the quadrille.
Fighting a rabbit war. Did rabbits fight wars? Catherine didn’t
know. They ran at each other and then turned and darted back,
jumping and crouching and rising up on their back legs. A pair of
rabbits took off like racehorses, sailing through the air and over
a long curled shape in the grass. Then back over again. She put her
face against the window. It was Tilly, stretched out against the
grass, Tilly’s legs and feet bare and white.
“Tilly,” she said, and ran out of the bathroom, wearing only the
towel around her hair.
“What is it?” Henry said as Catherine darted past him, and down
the stairs. He ran after her, and by the time she had opened the
front door,
“She’s around here somewhere,” Catherine said. “I keep putting
her back in her bed and she keeps getting out again. Maybe she’s
looking for you.”
“Did you get my email?” Henry said. He was listening to
Catherine’s stomach. He wasn’t going to stop touching her unless
she told him to.
“You know I can’t check email on your computer anymore,”
Catherine said.
“This is so stupid,” Henry said. “This house isn’t haunted.
There isn’t any such thing as a haunted house.”
“It isn’t the house,” Catherine said. “It’s the stuff we brought
with us. Except for the downstairs bathroom, and that might just be
a draft, or an electrical problem. The house is fine. I love the
house.”
“Our stuff is fine,” Henry said. “I love our stuff.”
“If you really think our stuff is fine,” Catherine said, “then
why did you buy a new alarm clock? Why do you keep throwing out the
soap?”
“It’s the move,” Henry said. “It was a hard move.”
“King Spanky hasn’t eaten his food in three days,” Catherine
said. “At first I thought it was the food, and I bought new food
and he came down and ate it and I realized it wasn’t the food, it
was King Spanky. I couldn’t sleep all night, knowing he was up
under the bed. Poor spooky guy. I don’t know what to do. Take him
to the vet? What do I say? Excuse me, but I think my cat is
haunted? Anyway, I can’t get him out of the bed. Not even with the
old alarm clock, the haunted one.”
“I’ll try,” Henry said. “Let me try and see if I can get him
out.” But he didn’t move. Catherine tugged at a piece of his hair
and he put up his hand. She gave him her roller. He popped off the
cylinder and bagged it and put it in the freezer, which was full of
paintbrushes and other rollers. He helped Catherine down from the
ladder. “I wish you would stop painting.”
“I can’t,” she said. “It has to be perfect. If I can just get it
right, then everything will go back to normal and stop being
haunted and the rabbits won’t tunnel under the house and make it
fall down, and you’ll come home and stay home, and our neighbors
will finally get to meet you and they’ll like you and you’ll like
them, and Carleton will stop being afraid of everything, and Tilly
will fall asleep in her own bed, and stay there, and—”
“Hey,” Henry said. “It’s all going to work out. It’s all good. I
really like this color.”
“I don’t know,” Catherine said. She yawned. “You don’t think it
looks too old-fashioned?”
They went upstairs and Catherine took a bath while Henry tried
to coax King Spanky out of the bed. But King Spanky wouldn’t come
out. When Henry got down on his hands and knees, and stuck the
flashlight under the bed, he could see King Spanky’s eyes, his tail
hanging down from the box frame.
Out on the lawn the rabbits were perfectly still. Then they
sprang up in the air, turning and dropping and landing and then
freezing again. Catherine stood at the window of the bathroom,
toweling her hair. She turned the bathroom light off, so that she
could see them better. The moonlight picked out their shining eyes,
the moon-colored fur, each hair tipped in paint. They were playing
some rabbit game like leapfrog. Or they were dancing the quadrille.
Fighting a rabbit war. Did rabbits fight wars? Catherine didn’t
know. They ran at each other and then turned and darted back,
jumping and crouching and rising up on their back legs. A pair of
rabbits took off like racehorses, sailing through the air and over
a long curled shape in the grass. Then back over again. She put her
face against the window. It was Tilly, stretched out against the
grass, Tilly’s legs and feet bare and white.
“Tilly,” she said, and ran out of the bathroom, wearing only the
towel around her hair.
“What is it?” Henry said as Catherine darted past him, and down
the stairs. He ran after her, and by the time she had opened the
front door,
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