The Ghost in Love by Jonathan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page B

old Persian carpet Pilot liked to lie on. In stark, ugly contrast, her new home was the kind of place where you went to hide or mope or worse. As soon as you felt better, you fled and never returned.
    The house itself was adorable, and that’s what she had fallen for in the first place. If you stood outside and looked at it only from the street, you thought, Gee, what a charming place to live. The owners were an old lesbian couple named Robyn and Clara who were tightwads with lots of money but resented having to spend any of it. The house was painted a cheerful yellow every few years, and each window aboveground had a flower box. But the paint was the cheapest they could find and all of the flowers were anemic pansies grown from seeds in an envelope you can buy at any nursery for $1.49.
    German’s apartment, the pièce de résistance of the owners’ stinginess, had for years been used only for storage. Even now it sometimes smelled of damp and mold, at other times of the ghosts of old magazines and soggy cardboard cartons that had lived down there undisturbedfor decades. The women resisted throwing anything away, especially if they’d paid good money for it—even if it was years ago.
    The only reason they fixed up the basement was because their accountant informed them that if they did the renovation, they could rent the apartment but not pay tax on the income from it because both of them were now over sixty-five. Within days of that revelation, out went the magazines and boxes and in came the tenants, although none of them ever stayed very long.
    Both of the old women were quite fond of German Landis, but they made no attempt to make either her apartment or her life there nicer. They also liked Pilot because he was quiet, grave, and well behaved. They didn’t even mind it when the dog sat on the small patch of grass in front of German’s door, taking the sun. They wished Pilot were a little friendlier and more appreciative when they pet him, but you can’t have everything.
    On returning from Ben’s that morning, German slid the key into the lock and unconsciously began to hunch her shoulders. The telephone in the apartment rang. She almost tripped over the letter “D” because she’d put it down on the ground so that she could work the key.
    Waiting patiently nearby, Pilot looked up at her but his expression was blank. All dogs’ expressions are blank, but there was something in Pilot’s face that usually told her what he was thinking. Or at least she thought so.
    German got the door opened, kicked the damned “D” out of her way, and walked quickly in to answer the phone. Pilot followed her. The first thing he did once inside was lift his head and sniff the air to see if any new interesting smells were about. Then the dog walked over to his food bowl to check on its status. Now and then tasty leftovers from German’s meals appeared there.
    Slightly breathless she said into the receiver, “Hello?”
    â€œWe have to talk.”
    Her eyes widened in surprise. Unconsciously she put her other hand on the phone for support. “Ben?”
    â€œWe have to talk.”
    â€œI was just there. Why didn’t you talk to me then?”
    He sighed loudly but nothing more. She waited for him to continue.
    â€œThat stupid film was on television.”
    â€œWhat film?”
    â€œThe old comedy with Cary Grant and the dog, Mr. Smith. What a ridiculous name for a dog. It’s so
clever
.”
    â€œYou mean the movie where he shares the dog with his wife after they break up?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThat was silly and not funny. We both thought so.”
    â€œI agree, but the guy on TV said that it was one of the ‘great classic screwball comedies.’ It was just on. As soon as you left, I turned on the television and that damned movie was playing. Ironic, huh? You walk out the door with our dog and that thing just happens to be