I read on:

I miss Dotty. I miss my sister too. I think Anna is my sister. Isn't it true that the things you've known all along transform light and color in such a way—it's prismic, is prismic a word in this life? If not, it should be. It's The hues and shadows make me think I see other things sometimes.

"of course you know her."

I did too, once I could translate the psychology. Separate it from the natural biology. Cells move in the same direction with heredity. Darwin can explain all of it—he does in Origin of Species. I asked Jeff for a copy. He simply squinted at me. I tried to measure the length of time he held my gaze in just that way. In inches—the length of time would have equaled about eighteen. Eighteen steps towards the bookshelf. Of course I was completely elevated at that time so there would be no pacing in any direction. Instead I let the desire to research that particular fact about survival...I decided it could evaporate with the other remnants of instruction I had on the principles of human evolution.

I spotted her in my memories but then the darned stitch pulled in the knitting. I sat in Jeff's study. "Why do you get a study?" I asked him.

"Because I'm a man."

"But I am too."

I would have touched him to prove he was sitting right there but he had a curious look on his face. I remembered just that afternoon the doctor had said "you should take Margaret somewhere where they can help her."

He had that same smile. A gentleman on one side, the devil on the other.

--Eve, please admit to yourself that you know this smile. Otherwise I'll think I've gone mad. His amusement controls his eyes. He's still a frozen man inside of himself. That is why I say he's the devil--

The doctor wants me to go somewhere. There is medicine and treatment that can align this sort of thinking. When the doctor says this. Jeff—who claims now to be my husband!! He tells the doctor that I have two children! I tell them they are insane. How can a man bear children? But Jeff says "No. I rather enjoy her company."

#7,000

I don't care if it's 7,000 or 25. She came into my room. She had been walking back to his bedroom. I saw her through the glow of luminance in the hallway. Something had caused a celestial light. Maybe it truly was the light in the hallway. She was in a white nightgown and her dark hair melted down her shoulders. I can not ascertain for sure, but to me she was very demure. She came into my room. Oh I had that headache I'm sure I've mentioned it. She sat down next to me. "I remember you Margaret. Do you remember me?"

She was clairvoyant. She always had been. When we were girls we had the same secret. I asked her if she remembered it. A peculiar kind of pain that ran down my back. I told her not to cry until my funeral. At least she could do that for me.

"I want him." She whispered. I gave her my blessings as any gentleman would.

"Do you love him?" she asked. "Did you ever love him? Is that how you got pregnant?"

"Of course not." I said. "He raped me."

"Can I get you help? What can I do?"

"Find Dotty." I asked her to get a piece of paper from my writing desk. I wrote down everything I knew about Dotty. Her features, the names she passed on to me from time to time. I told her Dotty would know what to do.

She was still crying. She took my hand. "Why did you go crazy Margaret?"

That was when I noticed the locket. It was gold with a tiny emerald in the center. "Where did you get that necklace?" I asked her. I recognized it.

"From mother," of course. "You know that Margaret."

"Who do you have locked in there? What picture or spirit?"

She cried harder and put her arms around me. "Pictures of us. Of course. You and me."

Matt put his hand on the book. I stopped reading. I looked at him. He was squinting a little, thinking. "Is Anna her sister?" He sounded like he was analyzing a play.

I shrugged. The story was no longer haunted. It really didn't matter what the truth was. As long as I knew Jeff hadn't killed Margaret I didn't care what else he'd done. If anything I pitied him and their shared circumstance. Certainly, I recognized some of Jeff in her writing but so what? More, I felt she was just a child, trapped by her madness. It seemed that through her gibberish she was trying to explain or understand what must have been so disorienting and painful. Jeff had told me that he'd walked in on Margaret trying to hurt Clara. She'd taken her into the bathroom and was going to hold her under water. Instead, she killed herself with the child in the room. Although, it didn't completely make sense because Jeff had told me that he ran in and pulled Clara out of there, just in time. Clara had been in the bathtub, not Margaret, according to Jeff. He'd confessed to me that he'd hit Margaret to get her to release the child. But, Clara remembered something different—it all came back to her a few years before. She remembered being with her mother when she'd taken her own life. She'd remembered screaming and Jeff coming into the bathroom.

People don't remember trauma accurately. I turned to Matt. "Do you think people have faulty memories under tragic circumstances?"

He shrugged. "You didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"The events leading up to being committed to the hospital. Your time there."

"I did forget some things. Just the other night I remembered something terrible."

"I know, but you didn't forget the important parts."

He put his arm around me and I leaned against him. He kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry you went through all of that Eve. I wish I could go back and help you."

I looked up at him. "Thank you for saying that. It means so much to me to imagine that you would have come to help me."

"How do you and Jeff talk about it? Is there a way?"

I sat back and reached for my wine. "Could you hand me my cigarettes?" I asked. He picked up the pack, took one out and lit it for me. I sipped my wine and then took the cigarette from him. "We just talked about it this morning."

"Did you?"

"He said he knew they would hurt me. He knew when he arranged for them to come get me."

Matt's looked down. He whispered "why would he say that?"

I shook my head and waved the smoke from my cigarette. "He says those kinds of things."

"Wow."

"I don't blame you for hating him."

"Good." He looked at me. "Do you want to read anymore? Is it upsetting?"

"It's not upsetting. But we both have to work tomorrow."

"Should I stay here, in the bed with you?" he asked.

I nodded. "If you want to."

He let out a breath and looked at me. "This is hard." He smiled. He looked nervous. "I never knew why you left me to get back together with him."

I shrugged and flicked my cigarette in the ashtray.

"No really. Why did you?" I felt myself grow anxious. He and I rarely ever fought. I could see there was a hint of anger in his question, mostly hurt but also anger.

"I don't know, Matt." I whispered. I looked at him, "I'm sorry."

"Are you completely in love with him?"

"No. Not completely."

"Were you not in love with me." His tone remained cool.

I grew frightened. "I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me. I shouldn't have come here." I started to get up. He reached for me and touched my arm. I pulled away instinctively and let out a cry.

"Eve."

I turned to him.

"I wouldn't hurt you. I'm sad, that's all. I love you. I already told you that I could accept your decision. I'm sorry if I made you feel anxious."

"I'm being silly. I don't know what's wrong with me."

He was inspecting me. He looked concerned, like he wanted to say something but wouldn't let himself.

I snuffed the cigarette out. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Jeff's fine."

"Well—" he half rolled his eyes. "It's not that. I've never seen you like this in all these years."

"These diaries are bringing me very close to the hospital. It is as if it's happening now. I honestly cant' tell the difference." I tried to act light, but it came out more serious.

"Okay."

I put my hands over my face and started crying. He put his arm around me and sat with me. When I pulled away I wiped my eyes. "Let's go to sleep. I'm tired."

Matt didn't object when I moved next to him under the covers. I felt safe and I remembered his fresh, clean scent. I was cuddled in his arm and he let me stay that close. I touched his face. "It's not you." I said. "Honestly. I see this world and I wish more than anything that I could live in it."

"I know." He said.

I moved closer to him and pressed my lips against his.

After we kissed he looked at me for a long minute. "I miss you and I'm going to miss the possibility of us together."

"Don't say it like that."

"We have to get on with our lives. I have to get on with mine."

I put my hand on his cheek and leaned closer, kissed him again. I could feel his breathing grow deeper. His body was warm against mine.

"I want you." I whispered.

"I want you too." He kissed me.

Making love to Matt was never like it had been with Jeff. It was tender and a part of me always questioned whether it was void of passion. I was so accustomed to such ravenous longing and hurt. When I made love to Jeff I felt rescued from jealousy and desire. I always wanted Jeff's singular attention. When Jeff and I made love, he made me feel exalted. When Matt and I did, I just felt loved and cared for.

Matt stayed close to me afterwards. "Are you tired?" he asked.

"Not really. What time is it?"

"It's only 9:30."

"Is that all?"

"I keep thinking about the diary." He whispered.

I laughed and turned towards him "I was thinking the same thing. Should we read more?"

"That's what I wanted to do but its not very romantic of us to sit here and read about your husband's crazy first wife.."

"It's like one time when I was young and I was playing fortune teller with this girl who was my best friend at the time--"

"Carmen?"

"You remembered?"

He nodded and smiled. He kissed me again.

"She and I started our game by trying to have a séance and it terrified us but we couldn't stop ourselves."

"it is like that. It's haunting but she really is—I don't know... something. Don't you think she's got some redeeming qualities?"

"Are you really going to write a play about her?"

"I think so. If you give me permission."

"I'll leave the diary here with you. I won't be lying when I tell Jeff that I got rid of it."

He turned on his side and kissed me. He looked at me for a long moment. "I love you." he said.

"I love you too."

"Let's get back together." He said.

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't. I wish you did. I wish you wanted a life with me."

I didn't say anything.

He turned and picked up the diary where we had put it on top of a pile of books near the bed. "Here it is." He said. He put it on the bed in front of us. "Should I read it?" he asked. I nodded. I lit a cigarette and watched him as he spoke her words.

I realized yesterday that too much time has expanded. Just too long. Eve. I'm sorry you've gone crazy. I know how much that weakens a girl's spirit. For what it matters, you were very pretty before the notification—I have it somewhere. You were evicted weren't you? I remember hearing about the circumstances. It's a pity men can be cruel.

He stopped. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." I said. "she's right. It does weaken a girl's spirit. And, men can be cruel."

You and I can see it. There's no way to read backwards. I assure you, I've tried. You'll try too. She left on Wednesday. I only know this because that's the day the maid does the rugs. I don't know exactly what she does them. I asked her if disinfectant was involved.

Matt took my cigarette from me and took a drag. He smiled at me. "Can you imagine if she really asked the maid, 'is disinfectant involved.'" She's funny. A funny character."

I pulled the covers over me and leaned back against the wall, "Go on."

He brought me a little gift. It was a locket. Gold with an emerald in the center. It was such a windy day. It is right now too! That's the way spirits work isn't it? These were dark though Eve. Eve Miller, isn't that right?

"OK That's just creepy. She's obsessed with you."

I shrugged.

'Likely because he was." He sounded like he was talking to himself.

"I don't know."

The house was shaking. He said "Open it Margaret. See what they've done for you."

The spirits spoke louder than he did. Dotty was there, Anna and I listened closely for you too but you didn't want to reconcile or rather, reveal yourself in the present situation. From what I understand you love your little baby very much. Jeff knows all of this, of course. I am presuming that's why you kept quiet. Otherwise, he'll stop sending letters. He sends a letter every week and even once there was a picture. He's not so fat. Your little Charlie.

I sat up.

"Did you send him a picture?" Matt asked.

"No. I never heard from him after I was sent to the hospital. Until he wrote to me asking me to come to Chicago. After Margaret died."

It's pretty over there where you are. Your little baby was in a sailor suit and he was riding on a homemade tractor. He's still a little boy though. Not yet a full entity like my two. My boy isn't really conspicuous either, in the way that the girl is.

"Did he have a sailor suit and tractor?"

I nodded. It struck me that Jeff must have been corresponding with the people I was living with, Frank and Mary. Mary would never have had anything to do with him and if she had, she would have told me about it. It must have been Frank keeping him apprised of his son's milestones. "But Jeff didn't care about the children. I didn't think he cared about Charlie."

"She knew somehow. And she either found the letters or he showed her."

The loudest one in the bunch—her voice carries on. I can't think straight at all. And, sometimes its utter nonsense. Recipes or tricks for straight hems. This time it was important and she silenced all the others.

I yelled at her "Oh what is it!"

Jeff popped into our conversation and said "I haven't said a thing."

"I'm referring to the instructions." I informed him—not that it's his business.

For it was when the locket opened that the order of things was revealed. Of course it was. It's always that way. That was why I'd never worn lockets. I forbid them! I didn't care who was inside. I couldn't be concerned with what they had to say. Poof there it was around my neck. That surprised me perhaps more than what Dotty interjected "don't listen." Hers was a constant hum of consonants and syllables. Words really. But she wouldn't call them that.

I called the maid and she pried it open with her delicate little hands.

"Oh it's beautiful Mrs. Lambert. It's Clara and Jeffery. Very lovely." Her face was flush. I couldn't say why. Nor did I care to ask. I was growing fidgety with this situation each moment.

She kept talking but no sound came out and instead the words of Dotty's counterpart interjected again.

You see Eve. Just as I may have told you before, I knew all along it was Clara. It wasn't Jeffery. I just sat with that information, watched the wind through the walls of windows. Why do I live in such a place? Why must that little girl haunt me? I don't recollect giving birth to her. They tell me I did. I said well show me the evidence! There must be some measurements they could provide me. Or even ask my mother. She'd tell the truth. And the old woman screams for me to listen and stop thinking. When I do I can see myself walk through the window. Of course he has them too thick to stroll through. I'd bruise myself first. I'd never take flight.

Matt stopped and looked at me "Should we keep going?"

"It's getting scary isn't it?"

He nodded. "It's just very disturbing."

"Keep reading. It's better than me reading alone. I hate how she addresses me."

"It's because he was in love with you. She can't really tell the difference between reality and her thoughts. It must have been that she knew of you. Maybe he talked about you."

"He did sketch pictures of me. When we first married he showed me a trunk full."

"So maybe they had a strange relationship and he told her about you."

Tuesday the thirteenth. Bad luck. The locket has gone missing. I know Clara has it. I am bound and fit to be tied. She's stolen it so I can't find out what the instructions are. Jeff came home tonight and I refused to speak until he asked me a very specific inquiry. I can't trace it all back to then but I told him about Clara. That seemed to make him angry and for the first time in a very long series of times, he put his hands around my neck and told me he'd kill me.

If he were to kill me I would simply curtsey and step off the stage.

Instead he drinks more scotch. He picks up the locket off the floor. "It's right here all along. Do you suppose you dropped it? Could that possibly be what happened to the Goddamned thing?"

I don't want his hands around my neck again so I tell him that Dotty likely had it taken to be disinfected. He stood behind me at fastened the clasp. "See you silly girl. It was all your fault. You shouldn't blame Clara. Now sit and keep quiet."

I pried the locket open. It didn't want to open but when it did the instructions were visibly audible. "The first one must be drowned."

"I won't!" I said.

"What are you up to now?" He asks, he's smiling again as if I was speaking to him.

"It isn't your business. Dotty has something for me to do and I'd like to hear her out."

"By all means."Mr. Jeff Lambert says. He stands and refills his scotch. "Don't let me interrupt."

Dotty heard it. He's going to kill you too.

There must be three for it to work. Myself. Clara and you.

I tell Dotty he wouldn't touch a hair on Clara's head. But she said 'no the instructions are right there.' That I am to kill Clara. "No. No" I said. "I won't do it."

Jeff comes over and touches my shoulder. "What is it you won't do, my little gentleman?"

"I can't hear if you keep speaking over her."

"I just want to know. He crouches down and looks me in the eye, "are you still a man?"

I turn away so I can watch Dotty. But he turns my face to him. "You don't look like a man. You look like a very confused little girl. Is that what you are?"

"No." I admit "I'm an angel now. God is speaking to me otherwise, I would be a man.

"Oh" he says. "That makes perfect sense." But his words are in some code. Likely simple Morse because they were in long tones and then truncated. He lifts me and pulls me up to him and I try to tell him that God doesn't like what he's doing.

"That's all right. God knows what I'm doing. He was at our wedding." He kisses me and it is salt water. The same as off the California coast. Salty and fresh. I wished myself there but he brought me back. He said, "Tell me something that you like about me. Just one thing."

I'm not that squeamish. There must have been something. I looked at Dotty but she just shook her head. "Tell him you like his mustache." Dotty said.

"I like your moustache." I said.

He laughed. "I don't have a mustache." Then when he kissed me again, I realized it was true.

I listened carefully while Dotty translated the message in the opened locket. The words were in Latin. Although I had my share of Latin instruction in school and then in college, I couldn't understand any of it. I only heard the words and Dotty repeated them in a language I could understand.

quin ducat puellam sistendamque – take the girl

sub aqua calida – under warm water

usque non est vita reliquit – until there is no life left

"Stop." I said to Matt. I whispered, "I hate them both."

"It's all right. I'm sorry." Matt said. He closed the book.

I was trembling. "I want to call Clara."

"All right."

"What time is it?"

"10:30."

"It's only 7:30 there."

"What day is it?" I asked. I was trying to anchor myself back.

"Eve. It's all right. Let's put the book away. It's Sunday."

I let out a breath. I closed my eyes and steadied my thoughts. "We've been making a game of this. I was making fun of her. Of them."

He nodded. "Jesus, Eve. I'm sorry. That was my fault." H whispered and put his arms around me. "I didn't mean to make a joke of your life."

I looked out the little window by the bed. The sky was clear. I knew it was cold outside but it didn't look it. It could have been a summer night in Chicago. I could see the lights of the city close by and the skyscrapers in the distance. It was a completely different life at Matt's apartment. A sinking feeling of shame and guilt came over me. I wished I hadn't slept with Matt. It spoiled my relationship with both of them. Jeff wouldn't stand for it. There would be no way to ever tell him if I stayed in my marriage. I was weak and tired and the self loathing that resided inside of me returned. A part of me wished to die. To lay down in warm water, taking breaths until I ceased to exist.

"I think I should go home," I said.

"Eve. Stay here tonight. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I feel horrible about all of it. It was as thought I was drunk and came over here and brought my problems to you. I seduced you and now I've had an affair and made a mockery of Clara's mother. I feel as if her evil is mine. " I started to cry.

"It's my fault. You were vulnerable. I knew that. I'm sorry."

"I was the one who said we should get into bed together."

"OK so it happened." He held his hands up as if to say what can we do.

I shook my head. "I feel terrible."

"For me or for Jeff? Because Jeff sleeps with women all the time. Not a month ago he was with a woman over Christmas. You told me yourself that your son found diamond earrings for her."

"All right." I said softly, "It's just that his rules are different."

"Are they the rules you believe in? If not then it doesn't matter. What woman believes a man has a right to do that? What woman, Eve? I mean, some women endure it but you--"

"Jesus Christ, Matt. You're attacking me."

"I'm not attacking you—I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to tell you that you're worth a hell of a lot more than that."

"We've been through this over and over. That was half the reason things didn't work out with us."

"I don't know why you defend him. Are you that in love with him? Honestly, is this guy some God?" He raised his voice a little. "Are you so in love with that asshole?"

"This is what I'm talking about. I didn't defend him when you and I were together. I didn't even talk about him."

Matt shook his head and got out of bed. "I never understood why you took him back." He had on boxer shorts. He stood up and put on his sweat shirt and sweat pants. He stopped and looked at me. "Why did you leave me in the first place Eve?"

"I don't want to fight with you."

"Eve. I've got to get on with my life."

"Go ahead. I'm not stopping you."

He rubbed his hair and stared at me for a moment. "No. I guess you aren't."

He went to sleep on the couch and I was alone in his bed. Everything swirled together above me. The emptiness, my feelings of worthlessness and her voice. Margaret was such a child. I started to cry. I felt sorry for her and I felt a terror in thinking that she could have killed my daughter. She really had been reckless. Jeff should have put her somewhere for her own good, for the sake of the children. Instead, he'd put me away. I opened my eyes. The room was dark and the streetlamps and some of the buildings in the distance glowed. I sat up in bed. What if Jeff was outside? What if he knew I was sleeping here? I moved to the other side of the bed and looked out the window. The ground was still covered in snow. The streetlights glowed. I scanned the block. I didn't see anyone. I didn't see a dark figure looking up at the window, smoking a cigarette. I didn't see Jeff down there like an actor in some noir film. He wasn't there, waiting to take me away to a hospital. He wasn't waiting for the right time to kill me.

I looked around the silent room. The shadows were dark and stretched in strange formations across the room. I whispered "Matt?" he was asleep. I could hear his rhythmic breathing then a brief interruption then it start up again. I got out of bed and walked over to the couch. I sat on the couch and shook him a little. "Matt?"

He turned and looked at me.

I started to cry, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry."

He got up from the couch and took my hand. He walked over to the bed with me and we both got back in. I lay down next to him and he put his arm around me. I felt safe with him next to me. He was close. He held my hand and whispered. "It's all right, Eve. I love you."