The Corentine Proverb

Introduction

I never believed in ghosts. My parents, who were strictly Catholic, believed only in the holy spirit. I remember when I was a kid and my goldfish died, I asked my mother if he was going to come back. "No, mija," she said firmly, "he's gone up to heaven."

"Maybe I could go get him," I replied.

And then she said something along the lines of 'don't be ridiculous' in irritated Spanish and flushed the dead fish down the toilet. (My mother wasn't the type to beat around the bush).

So imagine my surprise when my friend from college told me that her roommate saw ghosts.

My friend, Epona, who was the no-nonsense type like me, brought it up while we were having lunch together. It was the first time since college I had seen her. Her kinky black hair was pushed off her forehead with a paisley silken scarf that matched her blouse. She was a little perkier than me and ate her salad with gusto. When I commented on this, she said, "yeah, I've been working out. It keeps me out of the apartment."

"What do you mean, out of the apartment?"

She smirked a little. "The girl I'm rooming with is crazy," she replied.

"Crazy?"

"Mm-hmm. Totally crazy. But it's not like I can do anything about it, you know? She pays her rent and keeps things clean. And she bakes a bunch of stuff too, so it always smells like cookies."

I put my fork down. I couldn't help but be intrigued. "That doesn't sound bad," I pressed on.

"I mean-- okay, yeah, it isn't that bad. She's just weird, you know? Like--" Epona put her fork down too and leaned forward-- "I'm pretty sure she's got PTSD, or something. She's really quiet but she screams in her sleep."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Like, she needs to get a therapist, I'm not kidding."

"Do you know anything about her?"

Epona shrugged and shook her head. Her earrings bounced off the sides of her neck. "She doesn't want to talk about it. She's nice, and everything, but-- nope, I don't know."

I rested my head in my hand so I could look out the window on the street. Our little table had a perfect streetside view and I watched the people passing by, wondering if one of those people was Epona's mysterious roommate. "She probably had a rough life," I mused.

"Must've." I heard Epona return to her salad with an unconcerned crunch.

"Well, sorry about that. It shouldn't have to be your problem."

"Yeah. It'll make a good story for later, anyway."

This awakened me from my stupor. I looked back at her and added, "you think?"

"Definitely. You might even want to talk to her about it if you're interested."

Now that she mentioned it, I was suffering from a horrible case of writer's block. My last two novels had sucked the life out of me, and it didn't help my self-esteem that neither of them made me any money. "But you said she's weird. Would it even make sense?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Could you introduce me?"

Epona frowned a little. "Uh... are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. And if she's really interesting, I might even be able to write a book with her. I haven't had any good ideas since-- ugh, I don't even remember."

"She doesn't seem like the talking type, Jimmy."

I shrugged her off. "Come on, how bad could she be?"