Page 76 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Marc Erdrich

arguing about the sleeping arrangements of many Hollywood
personalities, but Carey Grant was their favorite.

“Ceil, you don’t have to convince me. It doesn’t matter.” It
occurred to Harry that he was carrying on this absurd conver-
sation with a dead woman. But she wasn’t listening to him.

“I told you I’d prove it,” she said.

“You didn’t have to prove anything.”

“But now you’ll believe me,” she said, ignoring him. She
grabbed the newspaper and without saying a word folded it
and stuffed it back into her purse along with the other objects
on the table.

“I loved all of you,” she said at last, near tears.

“I know,” Harry replied, consoling her. He didn’t know
where she was going with this conversation, but that’s the way
it always was with Ceil. Even in death, she hadn’t learned that
love wasn’t as simple as getting your way.

She was crying now. Harry reached out to touch her, but
his hand went through her body and he fell against the chair,
his head coming to rest approximately where her pendulous
breasts would have been. He bolted upright and looked around.
Fortunately, no one was watching. Ceil was motionless, except
that there were real tears in her otherwise opaque eyes.

“I always wanted to do the right thing for you,” she wept.
“But you always made fun of me.”

“I didn’t,” Harry lied. He was still befuddled by the fact
that at first he could touch her, but now he couldn’t.

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