Free Dead People by Edie Ramer

said in the young voice Cassie remembered from the phone call, a smile puffing her chipmunk cheeks. “I’m Darleen. Come in, come in.”
    “Uh...you look busy. I hate to interrupt.” Cassie eyed the knife.
    “This?” Darleen jiggled the knife. “I was about to cut up a chicken. Fresh from the farm. Dropped off fifteen minutes ago. I made a coffeecake just for you. Come in and have some.”
    Cassie put her hand over her suddenly queasy stomach, which was ridiculous. She ate chicken all the time, so why feel unsettled because the one in Darleen’s kitchen was freshly killed?
    The door squeaked open a few inches more and Darleen lumbered onto the front stoop. A car squealed to a stop at the curb. Hearing a car door slam, Cassie glanced over her shoulder. At first she just saw the dark car with a banged fender parked on the street. Then Tricia raced around the car as if she was rushing to prevent a murder.
    ***
    Rounding the car, Tricia spotted Cassie and slowed to a fast walk. Good, she wasn’t too late. Sweat slicked Tricia’s skin and her heart beat erratically, skipping like one of her grandmother’s old vinyl records.
    She’d been working the hotel desk since six a.m., or she would have been here earlier. All morning she’d wanted to hit herself over the head for arranging this meeting.
    She didn’t know why she’d done it. Maybe she’d invested too much of herself into her helpful housekeeper role. Or maybe she was setting herself up for failure again.
    Who knew what her mother would do or say? At the least, the fat bitch would embarrass her, the same thing she’d done Tricia’s entire life.
    And now her mother was—
    Oh Jesus. Oh crap. Oh fuck.  
    Tricia abandoned the fast walk and raced up the sidewalk. “Mom, why are you waving the knife?”
    Her mother stopped signaling with the knife like it was a flag at a racetrack. A puzzled frown wrinkled her extra-wide forehead and she stared at the chef’s knife as if it had turned into a giant penis. With her fat moon face, she looked mental. Then she blinked and the look was gone.
    Tricia wanted to puke on the yellowing grass.
    “I was waving hi.” Darleen giggled. “I forgot about the knife.”
    Tricia reached Cassie, who gave a stiff smile and shifted feet. “Put it away and we’ll come in,” Tricia said.
    How humiliating. With a mother like that, could anyone blame her for turning out the way she had? She never wanted to be bad. She never wanted to hurt anyone.
    Like a million other little girls, her dream had been to be an actress and to have everyone love her. Worship her. In her dreams, she was always the heroine, not the villain.
    But life hadn’t turned out the way it should have. It had kicked her in the teeth.
    And one dark day she decided to kick back.
    “Come in. I’ll bring cake and coffee.” Her mother hurried into the house, moving quickly for a woman who weighed over 300 pounds.
    “I’m sorry about my mother.” Tricia screwed up her face at Cassie, letting her ruefulness show. During the two months of acting classes she’d taken in Los Angeles before the night her life turned to shit, she’d learned how to draw on her own emotions. Right this moment showing mortification was as easy as breathing. “My mother’s always been different.”
    Cassie lifted one eyebrow. “You want different? I talk to dead people.”
    Tricia didn’t know how Cassie could admit to doing that. Tricia should tell her talking to dead people was cool, but it wasn’t. It was creepy. And it was different. Anything different made people outcasts in Bliss.
    Like having an obese mother who was poor.
    Like having no father.
    Like having dyslexia and not being diagnosed until seventh grade, with every teacher and all the other kids thinking she was stupid.
    “I’m so happy everyone is staying, after all.” Tricia held the door open. She beamed at Cassie, once again not having to fake an emotion. With Luke and Erin staying, Tricia could still make Plan A