Sunday, 2 April 2017

Part 3

I opened my apartment door and walked inside.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Andre asked.

‘I could but if you are just a human spirit you can enter without my invitation. If you are not you cannot.” I said closing the door.

“Well that is rude.” Andre said from inside the apartment.

“Perhaps but it has been the best test I can come up with so far.” I said putting the bookbag in its normal spot on the dresser. I took out the two books from the top and placed them on the bottom of their respective piles. Then I took out the surface and the arc and put them on my desk. Then I took the bookbag into the kitchen and placed it on top of the wine chiller, next to the sink. I pulled the small garbage can from the cabinet beneath the further sink. The crockpot from beneath the closer.

I opened the cabinet above and put the box of crackers next to the peanut butter. I put the hummus, sweet tea, and block of cheese in the fridge on the other side of the kitchen area. I pulled a knife out of the butcher block next to the range on my way back.

“Will you please just write the letter to my Mother before you start cooking?”

“Let me get this done first.” I said unpacking the bookbag. “Trust me. I have done things like this before and you haven’t. It will take you a while to figure out what to write.” I plugged in the crockpot. “Multiple drafts.” I added opening the box of crockpot bags. “You have no idea how hard it is to figure out the perfect words.” I left the box on the counter and put the bag into the porcelain. I continued explaining to him as I got out and washed the potatoes. “By the time you are done I will be weak and need to eat and sleep. If I don’t make the food first I will not have anything to eat because I will be too weak to cook or even cut up the block of cheese I just bought.” I said placing the potatoes on the counter, on the produce bag, and began cutting up the potatoes. “After all this walking in the cold I want a warm meal.”

“It will take hours for that to be ready.” Andre stated the obvious.

“I know that. You will understand.” I said as I dumped the potatoes into the crockpot. I pulled the interior porcelain out and filled it from the sink just above the potatoes. I put it back in the heater portion and turned it on high.

“My Mother always used beef stock.”

“I find stocks too salty.” I replied opening the beef roast and dumping it over the water. Then I opened the vegis while I continued to explain. “The potatoes need the water to cook properly. Then the juices from the meat soak into the water and create its own sort of stock. More of a gravy I think. I am not a professional cook. The vegis just go on top, no exact amounts really, and then put the top on and get work done.” I rinsed the knife then put it in the dishwasher. I pulled three twist ties out of the cutlery drawer. I wrapped the leftover peas, onions, and carrots then put them in the fridge and small attached freezer.

I picked up the garbage can and the bookbag. I walked across the apartment and put the bookbag back in its place before walking to the desk. “Come tell me what type of notebook you would have.” I said opening the top drawer. I had spiral wide- and college-rules as well as legal and letter sized notepads in white, yellow, blue, and pink. There were smaller notebooks and pads too.

“Spiral notebook. Wide Ruled.” He answered.

“Alright, I said grabbing a black pen from the cup on my desk. I sat down on the couch, sat the garbage can on the floor by my left leg, and opened the notebook to a blank page. “Sit as if you were sitting on my lap.” I told Andre.

“What?” He asked appalled.

“The only way for it to look as if it came from your hand is for you to have written it. You can inhabit my body for this purpose. Use my ability to interact with the corporeal world and write your final note to your Mother. All you have to do is sit as if you were sitting on my lap. You will fall right into me. Then just write your note.” I felt the cold before I finished my instructions. I finished the last sentence as everything went cloudy.


I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when my vision came back into focus. The lights were on and it was full dark outside. On my desk were two neatly printed pages of a note and an envelope with two addresses written on it on top of the closed spiral notebook. The return address had the name Andre Martin. The mailing address had Antonia Martin. I wasn’t sure if while he was within me I had told Andre to make out the envelope and turn on the lights or if he had done so on his own accord. “Andre are you still here?” I asked as I stood. I picked up the garbage can, walked the half-full container across the room, and placed it back under the sink. I lifted the lid from the crockpot. The food was ready. At least three hours had passed. I got down a bowl, pulled out a fork and serving spoon from the drawer, a knife from the butcher block, and with shaking hands scooped out a bunch of vegis. I cut a chunk from the roast and turned off the crockpot. Then I grabbed the still hot porcelain, pulled it out, and ran it over to put it into the fridge. I pulled out the sweet tea and taking it, grabbed the bowl, and sat on the sofa to eat. Tomorrow I would clean up the rest and mail out the letter. I barely finished eating before I passed out sitting up.

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