Tuesday Mooney Talks To Ghosts

by Kate Racculia

Dex had no delusions. He only had coping mechanisms,

“Are we feeling robust today?” “I’m really feeling the depth and breadth of this portfolio management team,”

If they even bothered, they imagined that she spent all her free time watching horror movies (true), listening to The Cure (occasionally true), and writing goth fan fiction (not true, but not outside the realm of possibility).

Every time Dex succeeded in making Tuesday smile, it was like seeing a rainbow over a haunted house.

Once, in her pajamas—also black, dotted with tiny skulls—on the front lawn after the building’s smoke alarm went off at two in the morning.

Her dad had a problem with the Gentrifying Hipsters. They brought a “plague of cocktail and artisanal-olive bars,” restaurants with mac and cheese made from cheeses that sounded like characters from The Hunger Games, stores that sold actual records, and lots of friendly people with small dogs and fun hair.

Having someone care about you makes you want to give a shit, especially if you’re having trouble caring about yourself.

“Dear Dorothea.” Tuesday put a warm hand on her shoulder. “The first time you share your private information with an internet monolith is a very special, magical—” “I’m saving myself for Tumblr,” Dorry said.

The tuxedo blur—Gunnar—was sprawled on his back on the kitchen linoleum, looking very weak and hungry, or as weak and hungry as a slightly overweight cat can look.

Dorry snorted. “Dude,” she said, “you kiss your mutha with that fucken thing?” “This is your influence?” he said to Tuesday. “Look what you’re doing to the youth.” “I believe the children are our future,” said Tuesday.

He whipped his head to the side. “Squirrel.”

“We’re looking for a back door,” said Archie. Dex bit down hard on his tongue.

meat for the monkeys,

And yes, I’m tingling like crazy . . . not like that

“Don’t cheat your friendships. Don’t ask them to mean less to you than they do, or think they only have value if they’re a stop on the way to a real relationship.” Dorry rolled her eyes. “All relationships are real,” said Tuesday. “Friendship can be as deep as the ocean. It’s all a kind of love, and love isn’t any one kind of thing.”