Page 127 of Cackle

“I’m rusty,” I tell her. “Out of practice.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Let me practice first. I’ll be too embarrassed otherwise.”

“Don’t be. It’s just me.”

“I know. I want it to be good. Put on a proper concert.”

“Oh, I’m not looking for that. Come, darling. Play.”

I hear my phone vibrate in my jacket pocket. Ralph stirs.

“Actually,” I say, “I can’t stay long today. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Grading and lesson plans. Fun stuff.”

I wait for her to react. She doesn’t.

Outside, the sky clouds over. The only other source of light in the room is the fire. It flickers belligerently. Casts intense shadows. Sophie sits in front of it, and when the flames lick up high enough, they appear over her shoulders like wings.

She uncrosses her ankles. Ralph gets up. His face has changed. The happiness is gone. His eyes are black and lifeless, like caviar. His mouth, ever wide and smiling, shrinks. Even his movements are different. Less fluid. He climbs down Sophie’s leg onto the floor.

I clear my throat. “I wish I could stay, but I should head out soon. Get to it.”

She’s looking at me. I wait for her to speak. A minute passes.

“You know I’d rather be with you,” I say, wanting out of the silence. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, pet?” she asks. “For abandoning me or for lying about why?”

My dread bursts like a blister. I might throw up.

“Sophie,” I say. What does she know, and how does she know it? “I’m sorry. I was afraid to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” she says, rolling her shoulders back. “Go on.”

“Sam reached out. He said he wanted to see me. He misses me. He wants to make sure we made the right choice.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I thought . . . I don’t know, Sophie. I thought it’d be worth seeing him. Figuring it out.”

There’s a faint growling. I look around the room, searching for the source. It’s Ralph.

Did he get bigger?

“Shh, shhh,” Sophie tells him. He quiets, retreating underneath her chair.

My heart beats haphazardly. I put a hand across my chest and feel its unsteady insurrection.

Sophie stands. She begins pacing back and forth in front of the fire. Every time she passes, the flames burn black.

“The first time I saw you, I recognized you,” she says. “I knew you were just like me.”

The fire dances frantically behind her. It spits and howls.

“But you didn’t know. What you were. What you could be. I thought if I showed you . . .” She trails off. “Perhaps I pushed you too hard. I wanted it for you more than you wanted it for yourself. That was my mistake. To put so much faith in someone who has none.”

“Don’t be mean, Sophie.”