What do you think?
Rate this book


27 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 9, 2016
“Why did you film your kitchen sink?” Wade said.
“You don’t see the shine?”
“Yes, it looks a little shiny. What is that?” Wade sat back in his chair and folded his arms.
“It’s Jennifer. Ask Alexis about it.”
The police had delivered the news of her death. She’d been in a car accident with another man. The news was confusing, as though it had happened many decades ago, to a stranger. Red sedan, the officers said, as though it was the most boring detail of the story, not the surprise twist.
“There’s a girl I want you to meet,” Wade said. His thumb twitched in the shot. Dino kept the film rolling. “My cousin Alexis. She moved here a few weeks ago. I think you’d like the things she says."
Dino offered her gum, but she said she didn’t like peppermint.
“So what flavor toothpaste do you use?” he said.
“Strawberry,” she said.
They took a break against an unpainted tree. Dino pulled out sandwiches and two bottles of beer from his backpack. Alexis was a messy eater (mustard everywhere) but he liked it.
She didn’t care about impressions, didn’t wipe the mustard from her mouth or hands while eating her sandwich. She held her beer with slippery fingers, and with yellow lips told Dino this bizarre story: When she was seventeen, a man with pale blue skin walked into the movie theater where she worked. It was just before Halloween, but the man was alone and dressed in regular clothes. The blue resembled real skin, not makeup, and he had a decent haircut. He handed Alexis a ten-dollar bill with words scribbled in black ink along the margins. She couldn’t read the language, although there was one English word, “catalysis,” mixed into one of the sentences. She stole the bill and studied it, tried to decipher the language. Over the years she sent photos of it to professional linguists, but everyone told her the words were gibberish. She didn’t believe them. Sometimes, she read the words like a chant or a spell and waited for bad things to happen.
“Leave the camera on,” she said. She pulled him close against her.
“I don’t think documentaries have sex scenes,” Dino said.
“This isn’t a sex scene. These are things that happen in the woods. The life of the woods. Isn’t that what you’re filming?”
When you’re there, it feels like the world is ending. When you’re gone, it feels like the world is beginning.
Dino made no attempt to hide the clip of them having sex. He wasn’t indifferent to Wade’s reaction; he was just too caught up in studying his own expression. Like the oven in the animated film, there was something perfect about his eyes and his mouth, but he didn’t know what it was. He wasn’t in love with Alexis. Something nostalgic about his face, and now that he saw it on screen, he remembered having felt it as he pushed against her, as he kissed her. Nostalgia.
“You can’t put this in the film,” Wade said as he watched them.
“It was her idea,” Dino said. “You introduced me to her. Nice girl, like you said. You don’t have to watch.” He fast-forwarded through the scene.
“She’s been acting a little strange lately,” Wade said.
“It was her idea,” Dino said. “You introduced me to her. Nice girl, like you said. You don’t have to watch.”
She protested, saying this was just what the ghost wanted, that she hadn’t spent hours in the rain for the fun of it, it wasn’t even about him anymore, she didn’t even want to stay in the creepy house or be in his film, she was just trying to win the game. She wasn’t born on this earth to have some supernatural girl take over everything.
Alexis told me you’re scared of her. She said you try not to show it, but whenever she visits your house you become nervous and constantly look out the window. You shut yourself in your room and won’t come out until she leaves. When she leaves you call her and immediately ask her to return.
Dino found himself wanting the baby more than anything he’d ever wanted in his whole life. He thought that when she was born (he was sure it was a girl), he would do all sorts of things that had never been done with babies before. He wanted to synchronize his breathing with her for all time, take her sailing around the world, learn French together. He wanted to grow all her favorites in little ceramic pots—her favorite color, fruit, song, book—they’d all be grown from scratch in the soil, alive in the house. He would choose the baby’s name from the paintings on the trees. He would film the baby’s second everything—her first word or first step would not be momentous; he’d commemorate her seconds instead. She’d grow up knowing first times are not the most special, so she would always look toward the future.
Alexis, seven months pregnant, was on her hands and knees scrubbing Dino’s kitchen floor, the tip of her braid dangling and brushing against some telekinetic tomato splatter.
Alexis trimmed the grass on the mud animals. She gathered broken twigs from the front lawn and recycled them in the woods. She ignored the shine on the ground, how it anticipated each of her steps. She removed the water stains from Dino’s walls and ceiling with a mixture of baking soda and vinegar. The house locked and unlocked itself. The fetus grew.

come to my blog!The ghost showed up six months after Jennifer’s death, seven months before the film festival. She spent her time outside in Dino’s front yard. Trees bordered the property. There, in front of the fire pit, she built mud sculptures—Earth and Jupiter, a sleeping bear covered in grass, a baby elephant, a book with raised words, a naked woman with patches of lichen.