Page 21 of The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy

Edgar

When Edgar opened the door to Magpie Vintage, early Riven was blasting on the stereo, and a half-full rack of clothes stood in front of the cash wrap.

Allie grinned when she saw him and turned the music down.

“Yay! Okay, I’m all ready for you. I pulled some pieces I thought you might be interested in and some that I have no clue about but that are about your size. Anything you want, just put it behind the counter on this rack. I’ll use my employee discount and ring it up tomorrow. Cool?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Al.”

She waved him away. “In exchange, I only require one thing.”

“Oh god, what?”

“I wanna stick around for a few minutes and meet Jamie.” She made prayer hands. “Please, please, please. You’ve never had a boyfriend before, and I’m so happy for you. Do you call them your boyfriend?”

Sweat trickled down Edgar’s spine. The music was too loud, he had no idea what to call Jamie, and the clothes Allie’d pulled looked flashy and bright, like they were screaming, Look at me, ghosts! Here I am!

“I—”

But before Edgar could respond, the bell tinkled, and Jamie walked through the door.

An unconscious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he ducked his head to avoid grinning like a fool. Jamie’s mere presence made him happy like nothing ever had before.

“Hey, Lovejoys!” Jamie said as they swept into the store. Their combat boots added an inch to their height, and their denim vest had an eye painted on it the exact blue of Jamie’s own eyes. Everything about them was beautiful and interesting.

Did Jamie feel their own warmth? Could they bask in the kindly, sunny disposition of Jamieness the way Edgar did? What would it feel like to be the battery of your own joy?

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Allie said. “I love what you’re wearing, and I’ll greet you in approximately three minutes when I finish extricating myself from this chair.”

Allie had a precise process for getting up that Edgar had learned not to interfere with, no matter how much it looked like she wasn’t going to make it.

Finally she got to her feet and greeted Jamie with a hug.

Edgar had always thought of his sister as larger than life.

She was capable, strong, had basically raised him after their father left.

It was only looking at her now that he realized she was shorter than Jamie.

The hand she pressed to her lower back dug in.

She had a tangle in the back of her hair, and the hem of her shirt was frayed.

Allie showed Jamie the clothes she’d pulled. Edgar went around the desk and lowered the shade on the side window for privacy.

It had been a hard week. Two ghost sightings in the same afternoon had sent him rushing for home, and he’d narrowly missed being sideswiped by a car while he was on his bike the next day.

In swerving, he’d toppled a whole crate of Lagniappe Lemonade, bottles smashing in the street and the scent of honey going sickly sweet on the sticky cement.

Helen and Veronica were understanding and glad he wasn’t hurt, but Edgar felt awful.

Then when he’d turned a corner walking to the cat café, he’d walked directly into something that felt like cold water dumped down his back.

The ghost was a blur of purplish lips and gray skin, but its parts weren’t where they should have been.

It was stretched tall and thin, looming above him.

An encounter like that would usually shake him.

But this time, owing to the week he’d already had, Edgar found himself crouched on the sidewalk, arms over his face.

The murmurs of concern from passersby and a bracing Hey, man, I think you had a little too much , accompanied by an extended hand, had been so overwhelming and mortifying that he had pretended not to hear or see them, curling into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible.

The smaller you were, the harder it was for them to find you.

The smaller, the plainer, the quieter. The less you affected the fabric of the world they shared, the less likely you were to bring them down on you.

Right?

Edgar had always thought so. But three times this week, he’d encountered them. And all three times, he’d been walking alone, quiet and plainly dressed.

Maybe he’d have had four encounters if he’d dressed or acted differently. Or five. Or twenty.

But maybe, just maybe, trying to make himself invisible didn’t accomplish anything at all.

Edgar had gone home, only able to relax once the door to his apartment closed tight behind him and the only creatures that existed in his world were the cats he watched on the video monitor. He’d taken a long shower, then stood naked before the mirror, wondering.

In the present, Jamie and Allie were still talking. “Did Edgar ever dress in any specific style?” Jamie was asking.

“When he was eight, he got into dressing monochromatically, from head to toe. And for a while, he swiped all my good band shirts, even though he didn’t listen to any of the bands.

But not really. Our house was pretty chaotic.

There wasn’t much money for clothes besides school clothes, and we mostly fended for ourselves.

As long as he was dressed and got to school… ”

“I bet he looked pretty cute no matter what he wore.”

Allie winked. Oh god, what would happen if his sister and his…whatever Jamie was…became friends?

Allie sighed wistfully. “He was honestly the cutest kid. He had this infectious giggle, and he’d get Poe going, and they’d both roll around like puppies.”

Edgar tried to remember a time when he’d done anything unselfconsciously. When he’d rolled around on the floor with no awareness of his surroundings or what was out there waiting for him.

For the first time in years, he missed Poe so much it choked him. Poe had been younger and smaller but fierce. Much fiercer than Edgar.

“Poe always won when we wrestled,” Edgar remembered.

“Yeah,” Allie laughed. “Because you were trying not to hurt him, and he was trying to win.”

Edgar hardly had time to register this information, because Jamie’s eyes narrowed, and they looked between Allie and Edgar.

“Your brother is named Poe?”

Allie and Edgar nodded as they always had when people noticed.

“And you’re Allie.”

They nodded again.

“So you’re Edgar, Allie, and…Poe. Is that—that has to be on purpose, right?”

“Yes,” Allie said. “Our mom was a big fan.”

At the same time, Edgar said, “Our mom was in a cult.”

Jamie’s expression froze at the word cult , their blue eyes so wide and bright that Edgar almost laughed. Being the subject of Jamie’s fascination was a heady drug.

“We didn’t grow up in the cult,” Edgar explained.

“It was when she was younger,” Allie clarified. “But she was out by the time I was born. Mostly,” she added.

Jamie’s eyes got wider.

“She and our dad met there. Anyway, they asked everyone to choose a new name when they joined, one better suited to who they wanted to become, and Mom chose Lenore. So she named us to fit with her. My legal name is Allan—with an a .”

Jamie blew out an impressed breath. “Damn. I would really like to be invited over to hear many stories from y’all’s childhood.”

“You’ve got it,” Allie said. “Now, as much as I deeply—and I do mean deeply —want to watch Edgar try on clothes he wouldn’t ordinarily wear, I’m at the end of my ability to remain upright and will now drag my ass home.”

“Want me to walk you?” Edgar asked. She did look more tired than usual.

Allie gave him a quiet smile. “No. I’m good.” She turned to Jamie. “Listen. I am going to need some photographic evidence that this happened. Please. In fact.” She pulled out her phone. “Lemme give you my number so that you can text them to me.”

Jamie brandished their phone in what was clearly a promise.

When the door finally closed behind Allie, Edgar let out a sigh. He adored his sister, but he’d been looking forward to seeing Jamie all day.

Jamie held out their arms, smiling softly, and Edgar walked into them. He nuzzled into Jamie’s scent—something zingy and delicious—and breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in days.

He and Jamie had texted all week, but Edgar hadn’t wanted to focus on the bad shit. Now though, in Jamie’s arms, he let the waves of the week break over him.

“Hey, hey,” Jamie murmured, stroking his back. “You okay? What’s up?”

Trying to keep it light, Edgar said, “Just a ghost-heavy week.”

Jamie squeezed him tighter. “I’m so sorry. Want to tell me about it?”

Exhaustion swept over Edgar at the idea of describing the incidents. One of the loneliest things about his encounters was that to tell someone about them was to relive them, with no real sense of relief.

“No thanks. Not just now. I’m okay.”

Jamie pulled away enough to examine his face. “Yeah?” They didn’t seem convinced.

“I’m ready to try on clothes, so.”

“Okay. Let’s see who Edgar Lovejoy is.”

They pushed the rack of clothes in front of the door so no one could see in, and Jamie changed the music to something Edgar didn’t know. It was low and smoky and seductive. It reminded Edgar of Jamie.

Jamie asked questions. A lot of questions. Mostly questions to which Edgar didn’t know the answers—“How do you want to feel in your clothes?” “What makes you feel powerful?” “How do you want others to perceive you?”—but just having Jamie’s full attention on him was intoxicating.

Between questions, Jamie wandered around the store muttering, pulling things from racks and off shelves and adding them to the pieces Allie had left them.

Finally, they turned to him.

“Okay. I think we should just try a lot of different things, because you have no idea what you want. Right?”

Edgar felt a pang of anxiety. “Right.”

Jamie clapped, eyes shining. “This is gonna be so fucking fun. I want you to close your eyes, and I’m gonna hand you stuff to put on.”

Edgar didn’t like to close his eyes. Closing your eyes was how you got snuck up on.

“Why?”