Upstairs, I found a small spare mattress in the attic. Large enough for the girl. As I pulled it upright, a cloud of dust kicked up in my face. I backed off, waving a hand as I held my breath. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I used this,” I told her. “But I can easily dust it out for you.” The words barely came out of my mouth before I started to sneeze. The girl didn’t seem to mind, and instead found amusement in the dust cloud as well as my response to it. She began to wave just as I did, with both of her hands, then ducked her head into her arm and jumped, attempting to mimic my motions. “At any rate,” I laughed before sneezing once more. “I will need to dust this off for myself…” Another sneeze. “Otherwise I will not get any sleep.”
I brought the mattress downstairs and out to the backyard porch. Removing the block and sliding the door open, I walked out into the cool night. With the sun gone, only the moon and the dining room were my sources of light. I gently slapped the mattress with the wooden block as the girl hopped around outside, surveying the table and chairs I set on the porch for Sunday tea. The fresh outdoors was enough to stifle my sneezes, and I got by with only one discharge. I patted the mattress from top to bottom, both the top and the underside, then repeated the steps one more time. By the time I was done, the girl settled in a perched position on the wooden porch railing, crouched with her chin on her knees, staring out into the pitch-black forest. I silently watched her for a moment, wondering what she was doing, before I peered into the darkness with her. It was a placid night. Cool, gentle. No breeze whatsoever. Still, the refreshing smell of oak satiated the air. Cicadas chirped their evening songs. The orbs of light still meandered, though less of them. My eyes returned to the girl, who had not moved. Her eyes were slit, as though she were dozing off. Her arms wrapped around her legs. Drawing herself into a tight bundle. I wondered if the girl, the spirit, preferred to rest out in the open air. Eventually, I set the wooden block against the house and lifted the mattress back inside. Returning outside to fetch the block, the girl noticed and hopped back down, following me inside.
Bringing the mattress back upstairs, I made a change of mind. I led the girl to Father’s old room, next door to mine. I decided she should sleep alone, to give her and myself some privacy. Though I had repurposed the room as an indoor garden, there was enough room to sleep. I hoped she did not mind the vegetation. I laid the mattress on the floor under the dusty, double-paned window the room had. I retrieved the appropriate bedding, tucked away deep in my bedroom drawer, then found my old cloth blanket. Whilst I arranged the spot, the girl sat on one of the tables, kicking her feet lightly as she casually observed a nearby plant, seemingly sniffing it. Once I finished, I patted the bed, beckoning to the girl. She hopped down onto the bedding sat with her legs outstretched. I gently guided her shoulders to lay down on the bed, to much of her curiosity. Gently pulling the sheets out from beneath her legs, I tucked her in. She found a great deal of comfort in this, as she immediately closed her eyes and did not move again. I bid her good night, then left the room, closing the door.
I went back downstairs to clean the table and fetch my book. I stopped by Abbey’s shelf and encouraged her to follow. She stayed put where I had set her, so I left her be. At the stairway, I glanced one last time at the table in the dining room, reaffirming the sight of the renewed flowers, before shutting the lights and returning to the bedroom. I sat in bed, settling into the reading I missed that evening. But just as with the rest of the day, I could not focus, and instead thought about the girl who was sleeping next door. I had a moment to reflect now; the prospect of a spirit, as innocent as it looked, in my house. Just beyond the thin, wooden wall. The man’s words returned, echoing anew as I sat in bed with the book flat on my lap, gazing at the foot of my bed. The spirits, I recalled. They may change their mind… And, so they did. One of them. She approached me, when they never did before. Now it was a matter of what would follow as a consequence, if anything. Would she disappear tomorrow, never to be seen again, returning me to my isolated normalcy? Or would her visit set a new precedence, inviting other stragglers to pay a visit? Would I be ready for such a life, bound to live in secrecy?
Unable to distract myself, I closed my book and set it upon the bedside table. Turning off the lamp, I rolled into my bed sheets, and after a long while, fell asleep.