7 or 8 Things I Know About Her

7 or 8 Things I Know About You

Her Sister’s Demons

While clearing out her sister’s apartment, she will find an old motor oil box stuffed with demons. Paper craft demons, plush demons, demon figurines tucked away in wrapping paper, sketches and paintings of demons, a bottle of hot sauce called “Demon Semen” and several smashed penny souvenirs with demon etchings from when she passed through Hell, Michigan. She use to wear her “I went to Hell and all I got was a lousy t-shirt” shirt to sleep.

The Kitten

A bump in the driveway that isn’t normally there. She doesn’t notice until she backs completely over it. The vet fixes it up, in a manner of speaking. Dr. Satan, her new name, is missing a front paw and an eye. It hides under the bed, refuses to eat, dies 7 days later from its injuries. She tears the thorns off all the roses to mark the grave. This becomes a yearly ritual.

Old Orchard

The road to the hospital was lined by three-story, suburban trees, yellow and red in October, a tunnel of apple leaves. Old Orchard erupted in a scarlet hue every sunset, like driving through a womb.

First Blamed

She broke the porcelain jack-o-lantern on Halloween. Her mom came home and found a shard of the stem in the hand of the baby sister. The next day they tried super gluing it back together, but it wasn’t strong enough. Some shards were left behind in the storage closet between the daughters’ bedrooms.

7:21pm

The light from the half open window catches the dust particles. Overhear her blowing at them, trying to clear the air.

Eulogy

“I talked to her photographs for a while. Not ones she was in, the ones she took when she was traveling.”

Fantasy

One of two: To arrive at a party at a moment in between songs, a moment of silence for her entrance. She doesn’t want everyone to notice her, just one person to make eye contact and appreciate the moment.

Three of three: To see a wildfire, not a brushfire; an inferno, untamable.

Flare Up

The day after her sister leaves a house off of Old Orchard explodes. The trees catch fire. Leaves run off the branches like lava, flames scurry across the street. Embers, like bats out of hell, flick into the smoked sunset. She’s stuck on the road between two large branches when the emergency response vehicles arrive. Three firefighters come running to the car, but only one goes to the door. She kills the engine, her music stops, the woman asks her if she’s stuck. “I don’t think so” she repeats a few times before getting out of the car and off the road.