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Trigger Warning: Abuse, suicide, sexual violence, foul language

Celia emerged from the metro escalator, not realizing how much she should have appreciated the final blast of cool air before suffocating in the swampy humidity of the downtown pavement. She turned enough to see Emile’s hand reaching out for hers as he stepped from the escalator, checking his GPS for the directions to their next appointment. Emile gently pulled Celia through the park that would lead them a few blocks from the third apartment they’d be touring that day. His hand would suddenly squeeze hers anytime someone got too close to her, protecting her already in this new city life they were about to embark upon. 

            Celia appreciated the way he looked after her, in the physical sense. He couldn’t know how little his protection mattered in the spirit realm she was so tuned into. She had hesitated in her agreement to move to the city, wondering how she could protect herself from the energies threatening to crush her if she let on that she could sense them. Millions of souls over hundreds of years have a lot to say. But she knew Emile couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Plus, it’ll be exciting to live within walking distance of restaurants, museums, theatres…culture and actual life around actual decision-makers, she thought, suddenly feeling every bit of her suburban self, idolizing a culture she wasn’t sure she’d be able to fit into but was determined to try anyway. Emile pointed out the charming architecture as Celia tried not to focus on the shadow of a murder investigation from 7 years ago that was stained on the sidewalk’s memory. She would have to get used to it in a city with so much history. Emile handed a granola bar and water bottle to a homeless man outside the fire house, where Celia raised her hand to her brow in a lazy acknowledgement to the ghost of a Union soldier leaning against the brick façade. 

            Approaching a stucco building with a large glass lobby, Emile was buzzed in by the concierge sitting behind a high desk against the far wall. The lobby seemed too glamorous for them – comfortable beige sofas arranged in front of a statue of a ballerina, frozen in pirouette with head bowed. A short woman came bustling from an office in the corner, straight white teeth behind burgundy-stained lips smiling, “You must be Emile and Celia, my 2:00? I’m Roz, the leasing manager here at the Auriel Apartments. Would you like a cup of coffee from our complimentary coffee bar we have in the lobby?” She began guiding them to a counter set up outside rows of metal mailboxes where a coffee machine sat, drips of brown congealed on the slats below the spout. Her charm burst from her in a torrent of energy that even Emile was responding to.

            “Oh cool, there’s even tea and hot chocolate!” he pointed out, helping himself to a cup as Roz began her sales pitch, listing the area’s closest stores, parks, and sights. They remained on the ground floor for a few moments, moving from the bicycle storage, to the package room, to the gym and laundry. Every amenity they could think of for two busy young professionals living downtown. 

            Roz brought the couple to the roof, showing off the newly installed grilling station before bringing them to the pool. “Are you ladies behaving yourselves?” she teased the two women in the shallow section. 

            “We won’t be for long!” said the large black sunglasses, raising her red plastic cup in a salute to Roz.

            “Can you tell this fine young couple that this place is a pretty all right place to live and they don’t have to go to their other viewings today?” Roz bellowed, gum popping as she laughed at her own joke.

            “Oh absolutely,” said the rainbow bathing suit, “Roz is being humble when she says this is the best building. This place is great! Look at this pool and this view!”

            “Babe, you love to swim!” Emile nudged her with emphasis. She took a step forward, kneeling to allow her fingers to caress the top of the water, barely breaking the meniscus. She always felt like it was just a bit softer that way. Touching the water grounded her, helping her attach to the present moment and ignore the swinging shadow of the hanged person through the window of the pool shed. 

            “Yes, there is nothing I like better than the water,” Celia smiled in confirmation.

            “Let’s go check out the first unit I have available for you!” Roz clapped her hands together in excitement as she led them back to the elevator, the women in the pool yelling after them that they hoped they liked the tour. 

            “Everyone is so friendly” Celia muttered to Emile, “I can’t tell if I love it or if it’s freaking me out a little.”

            Emile shrugged, “I definitely like it. Wouldn’t you want to live in a place where the neighbors are maybe even too friendly as opposed to grumpy?”

            Celia raised her eyebrows but didn’t respond. She supposed Emile had a point. Soon they were standing in front of a grey door with a silver 807 screwed into it just above Celia’s eye level. Roz struggled to jiggle the doorhandle just right to unlock the door before finally saying “oh yes, it’s a push up and to the left as you jiggle right” with a reassuring sigh as the door swung open. 

            “Your interest survey indicated you both like to cook so I’m excited to show you our chef-inspired kitchens that can fit into city living.” They entered immediately into a kitchen that was incredibly cramped, but with stainless steel updated appliances that were about two thirds the size of an actual kitchen appliance.

            “The oven is so little!” Celia exclaimed, laughing at how absurdly small it seemed compared to her 6 range stove at home.

            “Being downtown means space is limited. We’d rather give you more living space, so we keep our kitchens small to allow for maximum thriving in your daily life.” The three of them couldn’t all fit in the kitchen area, especially not with the pale ghost against the refrigerator, silently crying as she gazed at the stove. 

Celia made the mistake of catching her eye. “Him feeding me was the only bit of love he showed”, silver tears rolling down a gray face. Celia pursed her lips to acknowledge the ghost without engaging her. It was too late. The translucent eyes nearly became visible, a storm raging within them when she realized the person could understand her.

            She straightened her slouched posture and demanded, “you want to live here, don’t you?” Celia glanced at Emile and Roz, discussing the garbage disposal, before darting her eyes back to the spirit and curtly nodding. “Don’t. I’ve cursed this place. Well, he cursed this place with all the poison he fed me.”

            Celia’s eyes widened. “Not actual poison”, the spirit dismissed. “The poison of perfection. This kitchen is where he taught me to be perfect. Every detail mattered. Spilling anything is negligence, and don’t you forget it.” She went back to staring at the stove, tears rolling once again. Her face wasn’t scrunched in a cry. Her expression was blank as her eyes leaked. Celia thought with morbid irony that her eyes were very dead, even for a dead person. 

Celia snapped back to reality, acting like she had been paying attention to Roz talk about the extensive amount of closet space for an apartment this size, as they moved their way into the living area. “This wall is where I see a lot of people set up their TV, but some people also put a dining room table here; it really just depends,” Roz roamed about, gesturing and making suggestions for how the space can be used. 

The ghost wandered in from the kitchen. “This is where he greeted our guests. Constant entertainment to show off our perfect life. Don’t you know that’s all this is? Fake smiles over fake drinks. Right here is where, as I cried and begged him to stop insulting me, he said ‘the more you cry, the less I care.’ And then he opened the door and allowed a State Department diplomat into our home and acted nice for two hours while I dried my eyes and played the part.” Her expression remained blank, a permanent trail of silver lining her face.

            “This would be a great spot for the green sofa. I don’t think we can fit the black sectional in here, but I know that’s what we were hoping for, right babe?” It took a moment before Celia realized Emile was talking to her. 

            “Oh…yes, of course. And perhaps the wood coffee table instead of the glass one?” 

            “It might be easier to consolidate the furniture than we thought!” Emile grinned at her before asking Roz about internet companies. Celia mirrored his grin back at him, without the feeling behind it, while she watched as the pale woman slowly walked to the middle of the room, this time her eyes flickering with fire. “This is where he stood the first time he called me a dumb fuck. We had just moved here from four states away. I was alone here. I had only him. I thought maybe it would be a one-time thing…” she began to turn, raising her arm to point with such slowness that the effort seemed to weary her. “We moved the furniture a lot, always trying to change the scenery. But nothing could change the hell I was in.” 

Celia watched ectoplasm melting off the woman, as her whole energy seemed to be constant state of depletion and yet she was still existing. She wanted to ask the spirit’s name but wasn’t sure how she’d manage it with Roz and Emile in the room. Roz led them to the bedroom. 

“This is where he’d get me high so I’d finally consent to him.” Celia audibly gasped as the spirit’s gray turned deepest black, ectoplasm rolling like ink across the floorboards. Emile turned to her, “what’s the matter?”

Celia gave a weak excuse, “I thought I was about to cough but then nothing came out.” She shrugged before turning back to the ghost and putting her hands on her chest in an effort to show she sent her some caring. “Do you understand the poison now?” The spirit uttered. 

“There is a full walk-in closet attached to the bathroom, separate from the huge closet space upon entry! You’re just going to love it!” Roz chirped as she turned on the light for the closet. The spirit appeared through the wall from the bedroom. “This is where I learned to cry silently. If he caught me, he’d call me a little bitch crybaby. So, I had to be silent and fast. Just when I was getting changed before and after work. Get it all out then go out and be strong for the world, ya know?” 

“Look Celia, you love built in shelves! The last place barely had a closet let alone shelves in it!” Emile was clearly excited. Celia began to panic. How could she tell Emile she wouldn’t live in a cursed apartment without sounding like a lunatic? “You’re right babe, I love shelves.”

Roz tittered, “ooh, are you a shoes girl? I’d have all these shelves full of shoes, personally!” She laughed as she shut off the light.

“Mind if I check out the shower’s water pressure? That’s a big deal for us,” Emile asked. Roz waved toward the shower in a sign of permission as the ghost joined them. “Do you know why I had to cry in the closet? Because he watched me in the shower. Even changed the order in which I washed my body. He’d tell me I’d be stupid for doing it any other way than the way he said.” 

Emile ran his hand under the water, “oh yeah, this will definitely work!”

“I don’t know,” Celia began grasping at any negative she could find, “the bath looks a little shallow and you know I like taking bubble baths…”

“You take one bath per week as opposed to 1-2 showers per day, I think we’ll find a way to manage. Plus, don’t forget the pool!” Emile retorted. Celia saw she may have a difficult time convincing him why they can’t live in a seemingly spectacular apartment.

Roz started to gush, “I saved the best part for last – this apartment has one of the prettiest views, with direct view of the sunrise,” she walked over to the floor to ceiling windows in the far section of the living area as Emile and Celia strode with her. They looked out over the mottled roof tiles of the old church and the square just beyond with a monument to a local abolitionist. “Everywhere you look here, there’s history. There’s a piece of what built this country. Anybody who’s anybody has been through this city at some point in their lives, and now you get to experience it too. The richness of all this humanity – breathe it in! Look out over this city and tell me you don’t feel at home?” Roz gazed out the window.

Emile sighed, “you’re right Roz, this place is amazing. Celia, what do you think, love? Can’t you imagine drinking morning coffee to the sunrise?” He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, swaying a bit, pretending they were holding their coffee mugs. 

Suddenly the ghost was directly next to Celia, lips against the small hairs of her ear, and whispered, “and this is where I jumped!” Plunging her ghostly hand into Celia’s abdomen so she could feel her stomach drop all 8 floors the way the spirit had. She collapsed in a sob.