Cauchemar by Alexandra Grigorescu Page B

of state. As for the house’s contents, they are yours to do with as you please.” He raised his eyebrows. “Is that satisfactory?”
    Hannah nodded. She signed the papers in a daze and backed out of his office, declining offers of sweet tea as she went.
    Callum was outside, perched on a fire hydrant. It was the magic hour before dusk, the fading light spilled its long shadows down the streets. She hung back for a moment, letting Mae’s final gift to her sink in. She couldn’t help feeling that Callum, absentmindedly tearing petals off a flower, was in some way also a gift.
    She tapped him on the shoulder.
    He grinned when he saw her. “How’d it go?” he asked.
    As she told him the details, he put his arms around her waist. After she fell silent, they listened together to the children’s laughter that echoed down the street. For the first time since Mae had passed, Hannah came face to face with the breadth of possibility.
    Musicians were beginning to tune their instruments in one of the bars, and Callum whispered in her ear, “Let’s buy something ridiculous.”
    They strolled along, hand in hand, pausing to peer into antique shop windows.
    Thinking to tease him, she pulled him into a sex shop. She found herself giggling at his mystified smile as they walked through the racks of polyester underwear and padded cuffs. Her laugh caught in her throat as they reached the back of the store. Dim bulbs lit black leather masks, and they reached in unison for a beautifully sculpted, lace-trimmed mask.
    â€œWill this do?” she asked in a small voice, holding it up to her face.
    The black leather mask sat wrapped in pink tissue on Hannah’s lap as Callum steered them back along the water, between forked trees that bore blackberries. She raised the collar of her jacket against the chill.
    â€œWhere are we going?” she asked, recognizing the succession of clearings.
    â€œBack to my apartment,” he said. “Why? Where do you want to go?”
    Home
, she thought, but said nothing. She looked over her shoulder at the tangle of trees that receded.
    The swamp should have been frightening in the dark. There were too many creatures that slept in the sun suddenly clamoring for food, but the small lamp that winked above the boat’s rudder turned the night into an intimate passage. The screaming birds and rustling reptiles fell silent in its beam.
    Callum tied up the boat at the dock near his apartment. “Would you rather head home?” he asked her between puffs of his cigarette.
    Hannah studied the grave moon above. “I’m not sure that’s my home anymore,” she answered honestly. “Home should be four familiar walls, but I’m starting to think it’s made more by the people who share it with you.”
    Callum looked sad for a moment as he reached out and cupped her face. “You miss her,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. Her throat felt tight with tears.
    Callum’s bedroom was moonlit as he undressed her. Hannah glimpsed her pallor in the bathroom mirror as he tied the mask around her head, and saw herself transformed into a craved creature. She felt somber as she knelt before him, his moans something serious. Hannah could almost taste the guilt at her happiness, sharp and sour as a mandarin.
    The next day, she went back to the house by the water, and saw that it was gathering dust. Graydon greeted her with wild, accusatory meows. Eventually, he settled into an uneasy sleep on her lap, and she drifted off on the couch. She dreamt of stairs without end, her feet wearying then bloodying on the eternal ascent.
    On the nights without Callum, she felt her loneliness like something wresting inside her. She stalked the house and barely ate. She wondered whether it was her imagination that the wallpaper seemed to have lost its color, that the spices seemed to have gone stale in their jars.
    Whenever she saw Callum, it was