Free After Life by Rhian Ellis

work at the cafeteria. Or in the summers I do. Right now I’m unemployed and have too much time on my hands. Is that enough?”
    “That’s fine. Next?” Circle Nights tended to bring out a side of me I didn’t like—the condescending, school-teachery side. It didn’t seem to bother anyone else. I guessed they expected it out of a medium.
    Kevin was in the chess club and Elise wanted to be a writer. Judy had four daughters and Ginny was planning a trip to Mexico at Christmas. I never told people to talk about themselves, but they always, always did.
    “Thank you,” I said. “Now, let’s concentrate.”
    Judy looked panicky. “But—you’re not going to let us ask our questions? I thought I was going to get to ask a question.”
    This always rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to say, I’m not a Magic 8-Ball.
    “I’m sorry,” I told Judy. “I don’t answer questions, at least at first. Please, let’s focus ourselves.” What I meant was, Shut up.
    Before I closed my eyes I noticed my mother across the room. Her head was on the table, her hair perilously close to the candle flame, her shoulders heaving. The expressions on the faces of the people at the table were shocked and excited. I glanced over at Jenny. Her head was tilted back, and her sitters were holding their linked hands high above the table. I smelled nervousness and breath, and the wax of a dozen candles burning. Above us, the dark crowded down.
    “All right,” I said to my sitters. “Let’s hold hands.”
    Elise was to my left, her hand plump and damp. With my fingertips I brushed her palm, using only the slightest pressure. I felt a shiver of something there, a heat and desperateness pushing back. Ginny’s hand, on the other side, was cold and inert. I closed my eyes, and fell, right away, into a state of absolute concentration.
    “Elise,” I said. “Someone is here for you.”
    It was an old woman. She was dressed in a pale green wool suit and had white hair in a mannish cut. I could tell she hadn’t been a spirit very long; there was an uncertainty about her, a waviness. Plus, once spirits get the hang of it they usually show up as younger versions of themselves. She was standing directly behind Elise, her hands resting on the girl’s shoulders, but I could see her clearly only with my eyes shut. I liked her. She was smiling. She said something, her voice fading in and out like a radio with bad reception. Spirit voices are always quiet, quieter even than my own thoughts, and sometimes it’s hard to silence my head enough to hear them. The voice of Elise’s spirit was on the very edge of my perception.
    “I’m not getting a name, but she has short hair. She’s telling you not to give up, I think. Does this mean anything to you?”
    “My great-aunt,” whispered Elise.
    Yes, indeed. The woman nodded, her mouth opening and closing as if she was under water. Stay a little longer, I said to her, in my mind, but she faded.
    “I’m sorry, Elise, but she’s…” Then, in a sudden rush, I had what I can only describe as a vision. Sometimes, spirits will send me visions instead of speaking or appearing themselves. Elise’s aunt was probably very shy. I saw Elise in her little bedroom, scribbling in a notebook, the walls pressing around her on all sides, the smell of the heavy fried dinner eaten hours ago, the hated buzz of the television in the next room, someone yelling very far away.
    “Work hard at what’s most important to you, though it seems impossible at times,” I said. “You know what I’m talking about.” Her grip on my hand tightened.
    “Oh, I will. ”
    “Your aunt will always be with you.”
    Elise nodded. A tear slid down and hung at the end of her nose. The mistake many mediums make is to say too much. If you say the right thing, you do not need to ramble on.
    Kevin was harder. I cleared a space for him, but no one turned up. I opened my eyes and took a quick peek. His face was a mask of contempt.
    Well. No