Familiar Spirit

“Well, that’s a sort of a strange story,” Sarah said. She leaned back against the couch and extended her glass to be refilled. “I was sitting in the commons, reading, when I had the feeling I was being watched. So I looked up and, what do you know, I was being watched. There was this skinny, red-haired girl standing and staring at me. I caught her eye and smiled but she didn’t smile back. She started to give me the creeps. Then she came over to me with a piece of paper in her hand. I thought she was going to try to convert me to something—those types are always coming up to me—but she just asked me if there was a bulletin board around, for advertising. I told her I thought there was, but she should ask at the information desk. But she didn’t move, she just stood there, kind of flapping the paper at me, and giving me this look.

“Well, you know me,” Sarah said. She paused to sip her wine. “I had to ask. And, for a wonder, it wasn’t krishna consciousness or Scientology, but something I really was interested in. A house. She told me she was moving, and trying to find somebody who could move in now, in the middle of the month. When she mentioned the rent, I thought I’d heard wrong. I knew I had to see it.”

“The hand of fate,” Beverly said. “Did she tell you that in order to qualify for the special low rent you’d have to join the Universal Life Church or take up TM?”

“Nothing like that. Although it wouldn’t have surprised me, coming from her. I almost expected something even weirder from her. She gave off such a strange aura—Pete, quit smirking! If you’d met her, you’d have to agree. There was something about her that made me uneasy from the start, and it wasn’t just the way she stared at me. I’d be willing to bet she’s mixed up in something weird.”

“I wasn’t smirking,” Pete said, striving to look blameless. “I certainly wouldn’t want to argue about your response to her. I’ve experienced the same thing myself with certain people. It seems instinctual, but later you usually find that there were plenty of rational reasons for disliking that person. It may be a matter of body language, or their choice of words, or even body odor. On a subconscious level, all sorts of—”

“My love,” said Beverly hastily, catching hold of Pete’s arm, “is dinner going to be ready anytime soon?”

Her question threw him, and for a moment he looked confused. Then he said, “I need to steam the broccoli; once that’s done, the chicken and potatoes will be ready. Prob­ably in about ten minutes?”

Beverly nodded and nudged Sarah. “Go on. About how strange she was.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She had been interested in Pete’s diversion—she was looking for reasons to substantiate her feelings about Valerie. But that could wait—the kind of meandering, theoretical, philosophical/psychological discussions Pete and Sarah loved to get into usually bored Beverly. “The whole thing was strange,” Sarah went on. “Not the house. I mean, the house is great. I think. So far. At least . . .”

Beverly laughed. “I don’t believe it! You’re talking yourself out of it!”

“I’m not!”

“But something upset you,” Pete said.

“The girl?” said Beverly.

Sarah nodded. “It was the way it happened. It was as if she was looking for me, as if she knew—the way she stared at me, like she was reading my mind. How could she have known I was looking for a house? What made her pick me, out of all the people sitting around the commons this afternoon?”

“It’s called luck,” Beverly said. “Or maybe she was attracted to you, because you looked so nice.” She rubbed her shoulder against Sarah’s and gave her a kittenish look.

“Maybe you don’t really want the house,” Pete said. “Maybe you’re just not ready for making the commitment to a house of your own.”

Was he right? The image of the house resurfaced in her mind, and with it a pang of longing. She wanted to live there. The house might have been made especially for her. “Of course I want the house,” she said. “It’s perfect. I knew the moment I saw it. And if I’m not ready to live by myself, I should be. Brian and I are finished. I can’t hang around here as if I expected him to call me back. The only thing that upsets me is Valerie.”

“Perhaps she’s an excuse,” Pete said. “A focus for all your doubts.”

Sarah grimaced and shook her head hard. “No. There’s a reason for my feeling this way. There’s something very odd about how this happened—something very odd about her. When we were at the house and I decided to take it, she informed me that she’d already told the landlady my name. She was that sure of me. Before I’d even seen the place. How could she have done that? How could she have been that certain?”

Pete shrugged. “She was lying. Maybe it was all a part of her game, to tell you that. All a part of her own strange reality. You sensed something disturbing about her—maybe she’s whacko, a nut-case.”

“To use the scientific terminology,” Beverly said wryly. “You didn’t give her any money, did you?”