I took my rosary from the ceramic bowl on the table, the tips of my fingers grazing the uneven surface of the bowl my parents created together on their first date. It had been his idea to go to a pottery studio, a suggestion that made him stand out from the others, she told me every time I asked about their first date.
I made the sign of the cross as the Rosary began around me. My mind drifted in and out during the prayer, as it always did. The Rosary was long and repetitive; it was made for meditation, which ordinarily I enjoyed. Though when my mind couldn’t be still or quiet, I became frustrated. Not at the prayer, but at my own thoughts. When that happened, I tried to acknowledge the wanderings of my mind and bring it back to the mystery we were meditating on. Tonight I could think only of Luca.
“Hail, holy queen, mother of mercy …”
These were the words that sparked my awareness, telling me the Rosary was coming to a close. I spoke aloud the final prayers, concluding with: “May the divine mercy remain always with us and may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”
At these words, my mind became alert. I held the miniature silver crucifix surrounded by beads tight in my hands. The others blessed themselves and began to put their rosaries away. I stared at the wall, the place where Luca said the dead came and stood outside of our house.
“Are you okay?” Dad asked as the others began to rise while I remained unmoving.
“What do we mean when we say souls of the faithful departed?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t sound as frightened as I felt.
Lisieux answered, “The souls in purgatory.”
I swallowed. “What is purgatory?”
“Seriously?” Avi said in a scolding tone. “How do you not know this?”
“Avila!” Dad reprimanded. “Siena, it is a place of purification.”
“A place souls choose to go to get closer to being worthy of being in God’s glorious presence,” Gigi added kindly.
“Where is it?” I asked, the rosary tight in my sweating hands.
“I’m not sure it’s a place as much as a spiritual state,” Dad answered.
“I believe it depends a bit on what sins you need to be cleansed of,” Gigi added.
I started pacing because my body was too tense to sit. All of them watched me uneasily—I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t sit or stand or do anything else. What if Luca was right? What if souls came here? As I paced I crossed the room, forgetting for a moment to keep some distance from the outside wall. When I reached it I jumped back like a scared cat, my pulse racing as I tried to catch my breath.
“What is wrong with you?” Avi asked harshly.
I expected Dad or Gigi to hush her, but they didn’t. They must have been wondering the same thing.
I leaned my hands against the back of the couch, the action grounding me, reminding me of the physical world around me. My pulse slowed, allowing my voice to return. “Is it possible to see a soul who is in purgatory?”
“See a soul?” Dad repeated.
“You mean, like a ghost?” Avi said, bouncing on the couch with excitement.
My breath caught as I looked at her, her eyes gleaming. What must mine look like? Certainly not excited. Terrified, perhaps, but not excited.
“Yes,” I said.
Dad and Gigi glanced at one another. Even Gigi, who was completely comfortable with conversations of the bizarre, was uncomfortable right now, though not because of the topic … because of me. My skin felt too tight. I ran my fingers through my hair.
“Some saints have reported being able to see holy souls,” Dad answered slowly, watching me the entire time.
I inhaled and exhaled; I had to calm down. I’d never had a panic attack before, yet somehow I knew this was what it felt like. Like my heart was going to explode and I was going to die right here. Would Luca then watch my soul stand in my yard?
Dad stood and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, are you all right?”
His words were so gentle.
“Sit down,” Gigi said. “You’ll feel better, or at least I will.”
A memory flashed. “I can’t,” I said, “I just thought of something.”
I sprinted from the room.
One of them left a handprint, he’d said. He was wrong. He was lying; he must be. This could not be happening. My yard could not abound every night with the dead. I took the flashlight from the kitchen drawer.
“Where are you going?” Dad said, following me into the kitchen, the others at his heels.
“I need to check something,” I said, running from my house.
The crisp evening air was gone. In its place was cold darkness. It felt good; it felt grounding. I inhaled the frigid air, my lungs burning, my head and mind slowing.
I flashed the light to where Luca had been at twilight. He wasn’t there. “Of course not, the dead people are gone,” I muttered softly to myself. I went to the side of the house. I was shivering, though not from the cold. I hesitated as I neared the outside wall of my dad’s office. I used the light to scan the stones.
“Nothing there,” I whispered, trying to encourage myself. “Of course there’s nothing there. This whole thing is ridiculous. Then why are you too scared to take another step?”
I shook my head. “Now I’m talking to myself.” I took a step, then another, and another, until I stood facing the wall of my house. I shone the light at my feet. “Nothing except weeds.” I shone the light at the gray stones. Nothing there. I exhaled deeply. I continued moving the light up the wall. “Nothing,” I said out loud.
My body started to relax. I continued to search the stones; the light hit something. I focused on it and took a step closer.
My hand went toward it. There were brown and black marks.
“It can’t be,” I said, partly in my mind and partly out loud. My fingers trembled as I moved them closer, my eyes unwavering, my heart racing so fast I could hear nothing except the blood pulsing through my veins. My fingers hovered, shaking above the stone. I forced them to move closer to the dark outline on the gray stone.
I felt pressure against my arm and screamed louder than I had ever screamed before.
I fell to the ground, cowering, terrified, crying. The flashlight was gone from my hands; I held my arms above my head.
“What on earth is going on?” Gigi said.
I moved my arms and opened my eyes.
She bent to pick up the flashlight. “What is the matter with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said.
She thought I’d lost my mind. I didn’t blame her. I thought the same thing.
“You startled me,” I said, wiping the tears from my cheeks—my heart still racing far too fast. It was a good thing I was young and a runner. A weaker heart wouldn’t have survived this night.
“Clearly,” she said. “Your dad wanted to check on you, but I convinced him to let me do it.”
“Why?”
“I thought maybe whatever was wrong with you had to do with boys, and as a woman I thought it best for you to speak to me and not him. Now I realize I have no idea what’s going on and I should’ve let him come out into this freezing night.”
I stood. “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll go in now.”