text: Jillian swept her overgrown bangs out of her peripheral vision and tucked them behind her ear. Her mousy brown hair was starting to unravel from the messy bun she had hastily thrown it in earlier that morning. Passing the larger dining room table, Jillian set the smaller table in her kitchen nook. Two of her great-grandmothers cups, slightly cracked but not broken; white bone with paisley flowers faintly caressing the cups. The sun would be shining through the bay window at 2:00. Just in time for tea. Jillian capered to the cupboard nearest the stove and perused her tea collection before settling on Oolong. A quick glance at the clock told Jillian she still had 15 minutes before Tess was expected. Not enough time for a shower but at least enough time to change her shirt and maybe run a brush through her hair. Forgoing her normal sweatshirt and leggings, Jillian quickly changed into her favorite denim skirt, ankle length and a purple, button down shirt. She left the top two buttons undone so her silver locket could be seen. After brushing her hair quickly, she headed for the kitchen and turned on the burner for the tea kettle. Not knowing what to do with herself, Jillian tided up her kitchen and living room, which did not necessarily need to be straightened. She took extra care to align her pictures of herself and Tess. She kept three on a shelf in the den, just above the T.V. That way the kids could see pictures of Aunt Tess and not forget. The tea kettle whistled and pulled Jillian away from her pictures. As she turned with the kettle, Tess was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The two shared the same features. Although the pair were not sisters, they were often mistaken for twins. Same brown hair, same soft, green eyes, and both women were 5’7” and curvy. Tess was much paler these days, however and thinner. “I didn’t hear you come in,” Jillian softly sighed in relief, “I always worry you won’t be able to make it.” “I didn’t want to make too much noise and startle you,” Tess replied as the women moved to the nook. Jillian poured the tea. “I’ve missed you,” they both said and laughed. This laughter was not the laugh of comics but the laugh of the melancholy. “How are you,” Tess asked. “I’m ok. The kids are ok. Abigail just had her 9 th birthday. She got that diary that she wanted. Purple, of course. Everything is purple with a glitter pen to write with. Sarah told her she won’t have anything to write in it until she’s double digits. I can’t believe Sarah is already 13. I don’t know where the years go. Abby is always wanting to tag along with Sarah and, you know how it is at that age. Sarah’s just NOT having it.” More forced laughter. “She is discovering boys now. I saw the name, Brody written on her math notebook with a heart around it,” Jillian rolled her eyes. “I wished she would just focus on math. I can’t complain, I guess. Both girls are getting A’s. They’re good girls. They’re just growing up too damn fast. Before I know it Sarah will be married and Abby will be trying to tag along on the honeymoon!” “How’s Tom?” “Tom’s Tom. His job is good. They just made him head of his department. He is now in charge of all sales in the Chicago Suburbs and greater Indianapolis area. He’s been gone a lot lately. And when he is home, he’s on the phone, or in his phone checking emails, sending texts. Then there’s the spreadsheets and the metrics and the constant stream of questions from customers, sales reps, his boss, his bosses boss. His phone is constantly dinging.” “Dinging?” “Yeah, dinging.” Jillian made a dong sound several times while Tess laughed sympathetically. “That would make me crazy,” Tess laughed. “It does,” confessed Jillian, “I set it to vibrate sometimes. I just can’t take the constant noise. Of course, then I have to listen to the buzzing. I wish you had gotten married and had kids.” “Me too. Well, sometimes, but that would have made it harder later, you know?” “I guess.” This silence was uncomfortable for a beat and then Tess broke it by saying, “Well, you’ve told me about the girls, you’ve told me about Tom. How is Jillian?” Jillian swirled her tea in her cup for a minute or two before answering; considering how best to answer. How was she? Every day she woke early to make breakfast for Tom and spend a few minutes with him before he jetted out the door. Some days, that was the only time she was able to spend with him. Then it was time to wake the girls and help then get ready for school. She dropped them off, usually stopped at the store, cleaned the house. Occasionally she painted or journaled in the afternoon. Sometimes she took walks at the park preserve down the road. She liked to look for the crows. On Tuesdays and Thursdays she met with Dr. Lipstein from 11:00 to noon. She used to work. She had coworkers and lunches and responsibilities and a life. That was before. Before Tess was taken away from her. “I’m the same.” This came out in a rush of breath. “The same? You mean stuck. You are stuck. I am the one who is dead and you are stuck.” Tess didn’t mean to be funny. Or maybe she did. Tess was always funny that way. She was funny when she first felt sick. She kept her humor through all of her treatments. She laughed when she tried on wigs after her hair fell out from the poison that was relentlessly pumped into her body. She made jokes about not buying green bananas when the doctors told her the poison wasn’t working anymore. She comforted everyone who came to comfort her. Especially Jillian. Jillian didn’t want to be left alone. They had never been apart. Not since 3 rd grade when the Jillian moved to town and Mrs. Kirkpatrick introduced them. Jillian was very shy and Mrs. Kirkpatrick wanted to make sure they she had at least one friend to sit with at lunch. She paired her with Tess and they never looked back. They shared a dorm at ISU. Tess was the maid of honor in Jillian’s wedding, god mother to both her girls and the closest that only child Jillian would ever have to a sister. Jillian knew Tess was always straight with her. Even after death. “You’re right. I am stuck. I haven’t been able to get back to work since...” her voice trailed off. Tess’ eyes shone with compassion. “I know that. But you have to.” Jillian nodded and swirled her tea. “I am so scared to go on without you. Dr. Lipstein says I am, was, dependent on you and I need to focus on myself. I need to get back to work. I need to have tea with my girls and not with...” “A ghost,” Tess finished for her. “Dr. Lipstein doesn’t think I have tea with a ghost. He doesn’t think you’re real. He thinks I sit here by myself and drink tea and talk to nobody.” “Well, technically, I have ‘no body’,” Tess laughed at her own joke. Jillian smirked a bit at the pun. It wasn’t the worst one that she has heard from Tess. She wished they could see each other more often. “What do you do all day,” Jillian asked. “I go about my business. I spend time watching people. Kids mostly. They can see me. When I wave, they wave back. That’s a nice feeling. Just being seen. I can’t be visible too much. After a meeting like today, I’ll have to rest for a long time. Months. It’s like sleep but more deep. I don’t dream. There is no tunnel or bright light. I just go to my grave and laydown on it. Then I sleep. When I wake up, I’m where I want to be. If I want to be near my mom, I’m at the nursing home with her. If I want to be with you, I’m in your kitchen. Don’t look surprised. Sometimes I’m here but you don’t see me. It’s too hard to be visible all the time. I just kinda peek in. Then I poof out and I’m somewhere else. Wherever I think of, I just am. I don’t walk or anything. Unless I’m really concentrating. Then I can. I tried to going to placed I’ve never been. You know how I always wanted to go Paris?” Jillian nodded and Tess continued, “Well, I concentrated really hard on the Eiffel tower and nothing happened. I think it’s because I’ve never been there. I can’t ask anyone because I’ve never seen another ghost. I’ve seen shadows of others. Like something in the corner of your eye. But there’s never anyone there. It would be nice to speak to another ghost. I have questions. It’s lonely. You’re the only one I can talk too. It would make Mom too sad. Kids would be too scared. I live for our tea time.” Tess stopped her soliloquy. Jillian could tell that this last speech had worn her out to her soul, which she supposed, was all that remained of her. Jillian struggled to come up with something, anything to say but couldn’t find adequate words. Couldn’t even hold Tess’s hand. The pair sat in companionable silence for several minutes. Tess broke the silence first by asking, “What are you going to do get unstuck? You still have a life. Do something. Anything. Live for me. I died. Tess died. Jillian is very much a live but not so much living.” Jillian continued to swirl her tea. An idea forming in her mind. She started weighing her options. They had money in savings. Tom’s new position came with a hefty pay increase. And Tess had left some money for Jillian. Most went to her Mom, but Tess had some set aside for Jillian. Tom was so busy he wouldn’t notice if she and the girls took a vacation. A few days if nothing else. “Paris,” Jillian said aloud as she was musing. “Paris?” asked Tess, not quite understanding yet. “I can take the girls to Paris. We’ll eat French food, look out from the Eiffel tower, put a lock on the Bridge, take in art, write poetry in cafes.” “I think that’s the most wonderful idea I’ve ever heard,” Tess beamed. Both women were smiling now. They shared conspiratorially smiles over their teacups. Finally, Tess spoke, “I should go now. I’m awfully tired.” She did indeed look tired. Her pale and translucent skin, even more pale. She seemed to be fading from view as Jillian looked on. “I’ve enjoyed our talk, Jill. I miss you.” “I miss you too, Tess. Same time next year?” “Same time next year.” Jillian blinked hard to stop the tears that threatening to spill over her lids. When she opened her eyes, Tess was gone. The chair was still pushed out where she had been sitting. Jillian gathered the kettle and the two cups, still full. She washed them and returned them to the cupboard. She pushed the chairs back into the table. She pulled hers and the girls’ passports out of the safe in her closet and sent Tom a text outlining her plan. He would respond when he had a few minutes to spare. Jillian called her travel agent and spoke with a perky young woman named Judy who said she would be happy to book them a mother-daughter Paris trip. She couldn’t wait to tell the girls. Even though Tess wouldn’t be there, she would carry her memory with her. And then, when she spoke to her again, she could show her the pictures and tell her the stories of their adventure in Paris. Maybe, just maybe, Tess would want to be with her and could somehow join them there. Jillian wouldn’t see her, but maybe her girls could. Tess said children could sometimes see her. They were both so little when Tess died, would they remember her? Sarah was 6 and Abigail only 2. They’d lived more of their lives without Tess, whereas Jillian had lived most of hers with Tess. Jillian realized she had to pick up the girls from school. Abigail’s school would be letting out soon and after she would be en route to the Jefferson Middle school where Sarah would be just finishing volleyball practice. After dinner, before Tom came home, she would tell the girls all about Paris and their upcoming trip. Before Jillian left the house, she paused by the three pictures of her and Tess. She picked up her favorite. Her and Tess when they were in high school and frozen in youth and innocence. She kissed the picture and whispered, “Same time, next year.”