"I really need you to stop arguing," said Anabel as she handed me a steaming mug of chamomile tea. She stepped back from the couch and folded her arms. "You're making me feel like a weirdo."

I felt so unsteady that both hilarity and tears threatened at any moment—thank God, what came out was a laugh and not a sob. "You feel like a weirdo? You do?"

"I mean, yeah. I'm basically forcing my way into your house."

"You have a life and four cats and better things to do. You don't need to babysit the actual weirdo who's convinced that her house is possessed by..."

Ana sighed. She leaned down to pick up Porkie, who was still glued to her heels, and set the dog onto the couch. Then she sat at the other end, curling her leg up underneath her body and frowning at me. "First of all, if it's a house, it's haunted. Only people get possessed. People and dolls."

I cringed, thinking of the old doll I'd found in Gran's closet. "Not helping." Porkie wobbled toward me over the couch cushions, and her damp nose pressed into my hand.

"Secondly, I do not have a life," Ana continued.

"You don't have work or something?" I scrubbed Porkie's head and began to scratch her behind the ears.

"I do, but it's Sunday, and we're closed on Mondays. I work at the thrift store in Eldora." She smiled. "And thirdly, I already texted my neighbor. He's going to feed the feral beasts that live in my house. They'll be fine for one night and quite frankly, I'm not convinced that you will be fine."

I breathed the scent of the chamomile, glancing toward the dining room. I couldn't see the stairway from where we were sitting, and in any case, I could no longer feel whatever had been there. It had been a very clear presence, a sense that somebody was there in the room with me—just like I'd felt in Gran's bedroom earlier, only this time, I hadn't seen a figure. I'd just felt her there, watching me.

And then I'd felt her move toward me, unseen and overwhelming.

"Is there anything that would help you, Tabitha?" Ana asked, concern clear in her voice. "Do you want to call your brother?"

"I probably should," I said. "He'll want an updated hallucinogen report."

"What?"

I shook my head. I'd meant it as a joke, but it had fallen flat, and no wonder: I didn't feel like joking about all this. "He was just giving me shit earlier today when I told him what I'd seen. Asked me if I had done mushrooms or something."

"Ouch."

"No, it was the right thing to say at the time—typical little brother dickishness to make me laugh."

"I get that. Although, mine are all older, so I think it's just brotherly dickishness."

"How many do you have?"

"Three." She smiled, drawing Gran's green-and-orange afghan down off of the back of the couch and beginning to spread it out. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

"Are you serious?" I asked. I hated how small my voice sounded, but I felt small. I didn't know how she could be so normal, how she could still exist in a world where strange, unseen forces didn't try to bowl you over in the comfort of your own dining room. I didn't want to need her company, but I did. Desperately. There was no way I could stay in this house by myself. "You're really going to stay?"

"As long as you won't judge me for my breath, because I don't have a toothbrush," she said. "I'm serious. I'm not leaving you here by yourself. I'd offer to bring you to my place, but there's only one bed."

I met Ana's eye for a split second before cutting my gaze away. Strange, how my stomach could still do a flip when I was in serious concern for my own sanity.

"And we couldn't bring Porkers," she added. "Cats can chill by themselves for a night. Dogs, though...you're kind of high maintenance, aren't you, Porks?"

"I should keep insisting I'm fine, but—"

"Why?" For the first time since we'd met, Ana sounded impatient. She looked at me sternly. "You just lost your grandmother. You moved across the country to do one of the most overwhelming things you're ever going to do in your whole life. And now you've experienced something—something unexplained and scary. You get to not be fine, Tabitha."

Staring down into the quivering reflections on my tea, I swallowed down my protest.

"I know I'm not who you'd normally call, but I'm here—and as long as we're friends, and I think we are, I want to help. And the first thing I'm going to do, aside from tea service, is put a ban on I should and all of this self-denying, gracious fuckery."

I gave a short laugh of surprise, or maybe embarrassment, looking up at her.

"I'm serious. No more Oh, no, I couldn't possibly be a human struggling through a complex emotional period in my life. Take up space and feel your feelings and tell people what you really want. Okay?"

"I'll try—"

"Do or do not. There is no try," Ana interjected immediately. She smiled, smug. "Yoda said that, and nobody can argue with Yoda. Now: you have compulsory company for the evening. What do you want to do?"

I actually thought about it. She watched me, her expression set with expectation and challenge. I could tell she was ready to cut off any if, and, or but before I could finish a syllable. "I want...to drink this tea," I said. "And then I want to dig out one of the extra toothbrushes Gran always has in her linen closet for you."

"That would improve my bedtime ritual significantly, thank you. And then?"

"...And..." What would occupy my mind and keep me from focusing on the house for a while? "...Watch some T.V."

"Okay, cool. The only problem is that Ruth doesn't have cable, and her T.V. is way too much of a dinosaur for streaming. Do you have a laptop?"

"Just an iPad."

"Perfect. Where is it?"

"It's in my room. I'll—"

"I'll be back in a sec, just tell me where it is." I think she could see my discomfort at the notion of sending her up as errand girl, because she paused on her way off of the couch. "Unless—yeah, maybe you don't want me digging through your stuff." She grinned. "Sorry. Action mode. Do you want to go together?"

I choked back my No, I can get it, remembering Ana's rules. Tell people what you really want. "Yeah."

She smiled, getting off of the couch and offering me her hand. I set my tea aside and took it, rising with her gentle tug. "Porkie, stay," she said. "Just stay. We'll be back in a sec."

Her fingers, warm around mine, relaxed a second or two after mine did, and as soon as our hands fell free of one another, I regretted letting hers go.

I had only ever had one girlfriend before, a relationship that had been so short-lived I'm not sure we'd ever even gotten around to official labels. I remembered Karina as my girlfriend, though, and had it not been for her move away to college, we might have been something serious. As it was, my only long-term relationship—my only truly serious relationship at all—had been with Colson. I'd never had a rebound relationship, but pop culture had instilled in me the awareness that they were a thing—a thing that was really unfair to the reboundee. I couldn't afford to catch feelings for this woman. I had to keep a level head.

"Aww, this is adorable!" Ana said as we entered my bedroom, turning on her heel to take in the wallpaper, the curtains, the bed—unmade, since I hadn't expected anybody to see it—and the prevalence of unicorns. "You were a unicorn girl?"

"What told you that?" I grinned at her, kneeling down to rifle through my backpack in search of my tablet and charger.

"Look at him!" She scooped a blue plush unicorn down off of a shelf and hugged it to her chest. "This one is so cute."

"That was my favorite." I tucked the tablet under my arm, watching her explore the room, curiosity in her expression and energy in every line of her body.

"Was," she said, looking down at the plush. "I have no idea who she could have replaced you with." She put him back onto his shelf and moved back to the door, giving me a sheepish grin. "Sorry—I've never actually been in here."

"Oh, please—I don't mind. Explore away. I'll have to go through all of this stuff, too, so you might just find yourself the lucky recipient of an absurd number of unicorns."

"Don't get me all excited!" She backed out of the room and waited for me to flick off the lights. We went downstairs, the floorboards creaking under our feet. "What do you want to watch?"

"I don't know—something mindless. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Reality T.V.? We could do The Great British Baking Show. Or Hell's Kitchen."

"Oh, I love Hell's Kitchen."

We made it through a few episodes and a dinner of Gran's stroganoff before I drifted off to sleep, curled up on the couch with a second cup of tea going cold under the soft yellow glow of the side table lamp.

When I woke, it was dark. Ana was sleeping on the other end of the couch, Porkie curled up between our feet. I watched them for a moment. I had to use the bathroom, but if I moved, I knew I'd wake them. If I held out for a while, maybe they'd wake on their own.

I smothered a yawn with my hand, wondering if I could manage to get back to sleep, but I didn't think it likely. Instead, I reached for the green notebook on Gran's end table, which I had picked up after it had fallen earlier in the day.

After whatever it was had pushed it off the table.

I opened the diary.