Page 8 of Paper Ghosts

“I wondered about that.”

“It protects me from the storm, just like Mim did,” he said, opening the umbrella and twirling it.

“You called her Mim?” She liked that.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, like he’d never admitted it to anyone before. “She died a few years ago, and sometimes I think I’m forgetting what she looked like. Her obit in the paper didn’t even have a photo I could cut out.”

“Gram calls photographs paper ghosts. She says they’re the only ghosts everyone can see.”

“I’m officially changing the subject.” He reached over and made her stand, then led her into the aisle with him. “Come here.”

“What are you doing?” she asked when he put his arm around her waist and started swaying.

“I’m singing in the rain.”

“You’re not singing, and it’s not raining.”

“Says the girl who thinks an hour is a minute longer here. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

He was quoting Shakespeare again, while dancing to a song no one could hear, under an umbrella when there wasn’t a storm, with his hand to her waist as if it were meant to be there. As if they were meant to be there, together. He slowed to a stop and they stared at each other. What was this man doing to her?

“I should go,” she said awkwardly, taking a step back and quickly gathering her things. It had crept up on her in the weeks they’d spent here, pretending these stolen moments in the auditorium could actually add up to something real. But they never would. She knew that. He only had one week of lessons left. She had to stop this now.

“Wills…”

But the door had already closed behind her.

CHAPTER FOUR

Prom at Hen Town High was the penultimate event for seniors before graduation. And, as was often seen in rural communities, it was the only event besides weddings where you could dress with make-believe extravagance, feeling less like yourself and more like who you wanted to be. Piece Goods Shop downtown always ordered more Butterick and McCall’s dress patterns and extra bolts of fabric at this time of year, and hired a slew of temp seamstresses. Jani’s mom used to pick up extra money during prom season, because she was simply magic with a needle and thread. Wills used to love to watch her work. Unlike Gram and her embroidery, Jani’s mom was so adept, her muscle memory so strong, she could carry on conversations without ever looking down, as if her hands were a separate entity, working on their own. But after one of the twins died, Mrs. Keller stopped taking on work. Everyone understood, of course. But for Jani it meant this year she would have the best-constructed dress out of anyone.

Gram, as ever, wanted more for Wills, so they had gone to Chapel Hill to buy a dress. But Gram hadn’t trusted Wills to pick out something perfect on her own, which was why Wills came down the staircase on prom night in a pink dress with a sweeping full skirt and tiered ruffles, and a wide-brimmed hat, which was certainly something no one else had in town. It didn’t even look like something someone would wear in real life, only on TV.

She turned the corner into the living room where Terrence was sitting with Gram watching Lawrence Welk. He stood immediately when she entered. He was wearing a white suit with a shirt the color of her dress, open at the neck, the collar points spread over his shoulders. She could see a little of his blond chest hair. She met his eyes and he smiled. She’d always thought he was handsome, but he conformed to whatever people wanted him to be. It was hard to even see him as a person, just a reflection. And tonight, he was a reflection of her.

“You look beautiful, Willamena.” He always called her Willamena around her grandmother. He knew she liked being called Wills, but he only did it when Gram wasn’t around, shape-shifting as he always did.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Alice gave me specific instructions.”

“I can tell.”

“Now, before you go,” Gram said, picking up her Kodak to snap pictures. Wills secretly thought the only reason she took so many was to leave behind as many ghosts as possible to remind future Wills of all she’d done for her. The person who takes the photo, after all, is the person who shapes history.

“They’re taking official photos there,” Wills said as Gram herded them into the foyer and arranged them on the staircase.

“But maybe you won’t look this put-together by the time you get there.” She winked, and Wills felt equal parts embarrassed and horrified. Gram drank every evening, but only to excess if she had to go outside her comfort zone, as she’d had to for weeks, making sure Wills had not only the right dress and hat, but gloves, heels, nylons, and even underwear.

After posing for several pictures, they were finally able to extricate themselves and dart out the door with Gram calling, “Have fun! But not too much! Just enough!”

“Sorry about that,” Wills muttered.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said. “I’ve seen her like that before.”

Once in his car and on the way to the high school gymnasium, Wills stared out the window. “What are you getting out of this, Terrence?”

“I want you to enjoy your night,” he said. “And I couldn’t take you to my senior prom, because we hadn’t met yet.”