by Chris Pedersen

My best friend died a week ago. It was a peaceful death, one we can only dream of.

At the ripe old age of eighty-six, she had been well enough; in her final years there had only been a little confusion, brittle bones, and a knack for saying inappropriate things at the wrong time. Add on bitching about new technology and the music she heard my grandkids listening to, she was fun, if not a little strange. But she’d always been like that.

I just received a box from her husband. He said she wanted me to have it. I already have my suspicions about what’s in it.

I’m sitting here now on my couch, eyeing my friend’s final gift to me. A laugh building in my chest along with a little fear. My hands tremble as I reach in and pull out a wind up carousel. I twist the top and watch as the horses rise and fall in a circle to Clair de Lune.

You see, we had an inside joke.

She always made fun of me for my superstitions. Growing up, I knew not to mess with things I didn’t understand. I would not venture into the world of ghosts and brujería. Her husband was the same and, on more than one occasion, we’d have to pull her away from the haunted dolls in antique stores. She had a habit of touching them.

Fucking white people.

I shake my head as the song finishes. Her grandmother had given her this carousel, which belonged to her mother before. This all was fine, if my friend hadn’t named the little girl riding one of the horses after herself. Audrey.

“Don’t do that!” I had insisted when she first showed it to me. We were fourteen and I was at her house for the first time. She was showing me all her things. Every odd knickknack and weird painting. She had a weird taste, a mix of whimsy and gothic, morbid and romantic.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll be tethered to it when you die!” How did she not see that?

“Awesome!” She exclaimed, picking it up and playing the tune. “I’ll make sure you get it when I die, that way I can haunt you.”

“You better not.”

“Oh you know I will.” And I knew she meant it. Even if it was by my friend, the thought of being haunted sent chills along my arms. What if she was a restless spirit? I decided then that when I did receive it, I’d destroy it immediately.

But now, that felt wrong. This weird little carousel, with the unnerving little girl named after her, is filled with memories. My mother would be screaming at me to get rid of it, to release my friend into the afterlife. I laugh. If Audrey wanted to haunt me, let’s see if she could. I’m old now, not far behind her. If she scares me to death, so be it. Her final laugh.

And I missed her.

I stand up, reaching for my cane. I tuck the carousel under my arm and make my way slowly to the bedroom.

“Need help getting into bed?” My daughter steps out of her room. She must’ve heard my shuffling.

“No, mija. Your papi can help me.”

She frowns and I remember Rafael is dead.  

“I’m fine.” I say before she starts worrying and slip into my room. I set the carousel on my dresser.

“Alright Audrey, let’s see what happens.”

***

I’m sitting in Audrey’s bed, wearing blue fuzzy pajamas and listening to her talk about the boy she likes. She’s wearing a baggy tie-dye T-shirt and checkered sweatpants. She holds onto a pillow tightly as she recounts him brushing against her shoulder. I can’t recall his name, he never turned out to be important.

“I just want to be kissed.” She sighed. “We’re too old to have never had boyfriends.”

We weren’t. We were sixteen and both of us were about to have terrible first relationships.

“I know!” I lean back. The words come automatically, said by a different version of myself. “I’m scared I’m going to be alone forever.”

“You’ll be fine.” She insists. “You’re fun and pretty and social.” Her eyes start to water. “I’m too tall and weird.”

“Biiitchh.” I smack her leg. “You’re gorgeous.”

She smiles and meets my eyes. Suddenly I’m looking at an adult version of her, maybe forty years old. Her hair is mostly gray, she went gray pretty young but she rocked it.

“We were so dramatic weren’t we?” She holds onto herself. “I wish I could tell them both that we married wonderful men and that not dating in highschool was a blessing.” She laughs. “I still wish I got asked out to a dance though.”

I have no words.

“Just breathe it in!!” Audrey shouts at me. We’re sitting around a campfire with our other friends. Friends who were about to shatter our hearts, but right now…

My lungs burn. Everyone is laughing. I’m coughing and I swear I’m going to throw up.

“Marisol! Don’t swallow it!” Audrey manages to say through a fit of giggles and demonstrates how to properly smoke a joint. “Dumb bitch.”

I try again and vomit.

***

I wake up to the sound of music. I tilt my head to the carousel, twisting and twinkling. The song is different now, it’s our song. There’s tears on my cheeks. I get up, my body aches, I’m still tired, it’s a little hard to breathe. I run my quacking fingers over the dresser, pushing the carousel to the ground. One of the horses breaks off and the wind up part tumbles across my floor.

It was her in my dreams, I know it.

“Good job, Audrey. You got me. You can go now before you become restless.”

“Amá?” My daughter opens the door. “Are you alright? I heard something fall.” She looks down at the carousel. “Oh!” She starts to pick up the pieces.

“No!” I snap. She looks up at me.

“It’s Audrey. Let her go.”

She wraps her arms around me.” I miss her too.”

***

“You’ll never get over him if you keep seeing him.” Audrey’s sitting at the armchair in the corner of my room, surrounded by my collection of books.

“We’re friends,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Friends don’t get drunk and kiss. He’s awful to you! Why are you still clinging onto him?”

I’m mad at her. She has no right to say anything. She’s in a relationship, a long one, and happy.

“I need you to stay out of this.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You’re controlling.”

We’re embracing in her car. Sobbing. Telling each other we love each other and that we’re sorry.

She’s on my phone making soup. We’re not talking. I’m chopping vegetables and yelling at my brothers. We do this every night.

“Amá?”

I’m still standing in my room. My daughter is looking at me. She looks scared and sad and like her father.

“Can you toss it?” I say.

“Was it important?”

“Yes, but I don’t want it.” I grab my cane and open my drawer and pull out a bundle of sage. “Cleanse the house.”

***

“FUCK YOU!” Audrey screams at the golden hills. Her face is red with tears and laughter. I’m holding sage and walking around her, making sure the smoke envelops her. I can’t stop giggling, but below that is a tinge of heartbreak.

“Why are you kicking me out?” She says to me.

“I’m scared.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

She grabs my hand and walks me to the view. The sun is setting, everything is quiet, we’re far away from town, deep in the back roads where we go every time she visits.

“Can we stay here forever?” She’s looking out at the sun, her cheeks glowing in the orange light.

“I wish.” But there is life, there is work, bills, families, and too many responsibilities.

She looks at me, her blue eyes bright. “Come on, Marisol.”

The sun dips below the hills, turning them purple. I’m crying. The radio in my car plays an endless loop of our playlist.

We should go, but we don’t. We stay until the sky is black and alight with stars.