Spirits

By Michael Jesse

Chapter 31

In the morning, Jack wanted to get back to the library, but had other work to do first. He was eager to continue investigating the incredible revelation about his grandmother, but also wanted to see how Millie seemed. If she read more of Molly's site, it was possible she would start getting suspicious. He was still at his desk in the newsroom when he received an email from her saying, "Do you have time to walk over to the park with me for 15 minutes?"

They met near the elevator and went down to the first floor, but said little on the way because other people were around. When they got outside, she only said "I want you to tell me I'm not crazy" as they walked across the street and found an empty bench. Above them, the trees were swaying in the wind and the clouds were a dark gray. He was tempted to make a joke about her rain appreciation dances, but she didn't seem to be in the mood. He braced himself for what she would say.

"Johnny, I think this is about me," she said, waving a stack of papers she was carrying.

"What?"

"This Molly site. It's not just some kind of coincidence. I think someone wrote all of this . . . about me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Lots of stuff, starting of course with the similarity in name -– Molly/Millie – and she describes herself as a flaming redhead with a million freckles and blue eyes."

"Don't most redheads have blue eyes?"

"No, most have brown eyes. Blue-eyed redheads are somewhat rare."

"I . . . did not know that."

"As far as those things went, I could tell myself it was just a coincidence. But I read more of it last night, Johnny, and some of Molly's stories seem to come right out of my memory. Things I haven't even told you about."

"Like . . . what?"

"She writes about sneaking out of her parents' house in the middle of the night to run through her backyard naked in the rain. She writes about being in an all-girls dorm in college and walking down the hallways naked, wanting to casually get into conversations so she can stand there naked in front of people. All of that is me."

"There were probably other girls who had the same feelings and urges that you did," Jack said cautiously, wanting to be sure he did not actually lie to her.

"She even talks like me," Millie said. "She uses the word 'fabulous' a lot. That's one of my words. And another character says Molly 'likes to put on a show.' That's what people used to say about me when I was growing up."

"So far, the things you've said could all still be a coincidence," Jack said. "There are so many people in the world and now they're on the Internet talking about their personal feelings, and some of that is bound to be similar."

Millie looked at him resolutely. "I think I know who wrote this."

"Um, who?"

"I don't know how much of this you read, but I noticed that the names of most of the roommates follow a pattern." She read from her notepad: "Bea, Dee, Kay, Elle and Jaye. Those are all phonetic versions of letters of the alphabet."

"Okay. . ."

"The only exception is Shelly. And when I was in college, those two years before my life went to shit, one of the girls on my floor was named Shelly. I don't think that's a coincidence."

Jack could have explained that in his first draft "Shelly" had been the only named Roommate character, but that when he decided to add more characters he used the alphabet method so in some later comment Molly could mention she had given her actual roommates fictional names to protect their privacy (thus subtly reinforcing the illusion of reality in Molly's overall story). Instead, he tentatively said, "So ... um, you think this girl from college twenty-some years ago is writing about you now?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Millie said, holding up the stack of papers, "but somehow, some way . . . this is me."

The wind had kicked up a notch while they were talking, and a few big drops splashed on the sidewalk around them. "We should get back inside," Jack said. "It's going to storm any minute."

As they crossed the street, Jack tried again to suggest that it could all just be a coincidence, but Millie was clearly unconvinced. She glanced up at the digital clock. "I have a meeting," she said. "We can talk some more about it at lunch."

When lunchtime came, it was raining hard, so they went together to the newspaper's cafeteria and then found a little table in the corner where they could talk privately.

"I called Shelly," Millie said.

"You what? How?"

"Finding her was easy," Millie said. "It's what I do. The only hard part was remembering her last name."

"And what did she . . . say?"

"Oh, I could tell pretty quickly that it wasn't her. She has four kids now, and they were making noise in the background, and she kept telling them to do things that they evidently were not doing. She doesn't have time for something like this."

"How did you even explain why you were calling?"

"I had a cover story. I said I could have sworn I saw her in a crowd last weekend, and I asked if she had been in Brayton, which of course she hadn't, and I said oh, it must have been your doppelganger and we laughed."

"So you lied."

"It was a white lie for a good reason. Anyway, she's off my list, BUT I thought of something else."

"Millie, you're kinda scaring me here," Jack said. "Are you familiar with the expression going off the deep end?"

"Jack, this site is about me," Millie insisted. "I read some more of it this morning and something jumped right out at me."

"What?"

"She tells a story about being on the high school basketball team, which I was also."

"Along with lots of other people."

"But in this little reminiscence of hers, she says there were a couple of not-so-secret lesbians among her teammates, and that she -- Molly -- took longer in the shower than the other girls because of her very long wild red hair (which, again, I also had), and she writes that these two girls would be dressed already but hanging back in the locker room and there would be a little conversation and some subtle eye contact in which these girls let her know they appreciated looking at her naked body. And Molly says this was such a thrill for her that she started fantasizing about the kind of sensual experiences she might have in college or later in life."

"And you had those feelings too," Jack said. "But maybe lots of girls-–"

"It wasn't just that I had that feeling, Johnny. "It was a specific memory of mine. That exact thing happened to me. In fact, now I remember actually writing that story down. I had completely forgotten this, but when I was a senior in high school, I kept a journal for about six months. And I think a lot of what's on this site could have come from that journal."

"But most of–- didn't you say most of the stories take place when Molly is in her 20s, not in high school?"

"Yes, but I remember imagining what life might be like in the future, and I know I wrote some of that down in my journal."

"Hmmm."

"But nobody could have read it in the past 20 years because I burned it."

"You burned your journal?"

"My snoopy mother decided to read it -- even though she'd promised my therapist that she wouldn't, but she felt entitled to do it anyway, being a good Christian mother -- and she confronted me with it and made me burn it in front of her."

"Wow."

"So nobody could have read that journal in 20 years – but now I'm thinking, well, maybe one of the girls I knew back then got hold of it, but she would have had to make a photocopy or something to have all those specific details –- not just from reading it once and putting it back. But that could have happened at school because it would be possible to take it out of my locker, go to the office, and photocopy it and then put it back. But I'm not sure how a student could get away with using the copier that much."

"Maybe you should just let this go, Millie."

"I also took that journal to camp that year, and one of my roommates was my cousin, Debbie, who I never really trusted because she was good at manipulating people. You two were an item that year, and I kind of wanted to warn you about her, but I didn't know what to say, and I figured it would be over in a week. You were so cute with her, but I knew you also had a crush on me, and I remember you had that camera around your neck all the time and you were always . . . taking pictures."

Millie went silent for a long moment, and Jack scrambled to think of something -- anything -- he could say to push her thinking in another direction, but he could see the gears turning in her head as she looked up at him.

"Johnny . . ." she said slowly. "Did you . . . use that camera to .. . . copy my journal? Please tell me you didn't."

Jack wanted to tell her that, but he knew he couldn't. "That was a long time ago," he said weakly.

Millie was naturally pale, but what little pink was normally in her cheeks drained from her face, and her expression went from worry to horror to revulsion. She stood and turned to leave, her food still untouched.

"Millie, wait," he said, standing also.

She turned to face him. "Do not follow me. Do not talk to me." Then she turned again and left the cafeteria without looking back.