Fiction
5 min
Pie for Two
Isabelle Roblin
In every guidebook I've read regarding the supernatural, there is no advice on how to befriend them. Considering how powerful they tend to be, it's common sense to flee or let them be. However, the ghost in my house was terrible at its job.
"Olivia..." the voice whined. "Look behind you."
"I told you already." I stopped folding my pie dough to lecture her. "It's Octavia."
I didn't mind the extra company. Growing up in a house where my parents flipped between shouting matches and a subsequent cold silence, I appreciated someone who liked small talk, but today was a day where I wouldn't mind some ghostly silence.
There was a city-wide apple pie contest happening next month and I was determined to break my two-year second place streak and take home the gold.
The cabinet doors rattled behind me as I worked. I spun around to furrow my brow at her.
She sat at the edge of the linoleum counter, inspecting her nails casually. Ghosts, if you could see them, passed as regular people until you tried to touch them.
Her apparition flickered like an old movie projector and the only thing you felt was a breeze similar to a cold autumn night. I wish that rule didn't apply so I could grab her shoulders and shake her into stillness.
"Do you even know my name?" Her hazel eyes were wide open and unblinking. That was the first time she's spooked me since I moved in.
"Audrey!" I yelped, looking past her shoulder. She had announced herself whispering the first time we properly met. "...right?"
"You hypocrite!" She hopped off the counter, opting to float in the air like usual. "I heard some hesitation in your voice."
"Okay." I rolled my eyes. "But I wasn't wrong."
When my landlord told me that there was an unconventional problem with the place, I was prepared for party-hard neighbors stomping and shouting through the walls or an unremovable mold living in the grout longer than I'd been alive. Considering how cheap the rent was, I was willing to take such risks. I was not prepared for the spirit of some prom queen.
Audrey's silver crown was somehow still neatly tucked in her ginger strands. It defied all laws of physics and logic when it glistened from the sunlight peeking through my decrepit kitchen window. Her light pink dress with long drapey sleeves was pretty and delicate like rose petals. She was a nice pop of color compared to the sad state of my house, but I wouldn't feed her ego like that.
She loathed my inclination to comfortable and worn out clothes and worried about my disregard for finer fashion– with a lack of regard on her part for the moths' nest I currently inhabited. My long black hair was tied into a barely put together bun. The free college shirt handed out on campus and plaid shorts I had on were either stained in lavender oil (to deter moths) or covered in flour, something I came to expect daily.
Normally, people wanted to entirely isolate their career from their home, but working at a small bakery inspired me to hone my craft in my own time.
"Look at her, Muffin." Audrey glided over to my calico cat. "She's neglecting us."
I gasped. "Don't bring him into this."
Despite her nonexistent touch, Muffin purred at her patting. I never subscribed to the idea that animals were cognizant of the supernatural until I woke up to Audrey's mischievous laughter as she chased him down my hallway.
"Your mama's ignoring you for a pie, silly kitty," she continued. "I always wanted a cat but I was allergic... back then."
"This pie can help pay rent." My voice was firm, but my gaze softened. "Be careful with him while I bake. He jumps when spooked by strangers."
"I haven't been a stranger since..." She started counting on her fingers. Time passing by and memories blurring didn't make it easy for spirits to keep dates straight.
I spared her the embarrassment. "Three months."
"That's exactly what I was going to say." Her faux-confident grin beamed wide. "But how is a pie going to pay for this place?"
"The cash prize is nothing to write home about." I shrugged. "But that small amount goes far in a place like this."
I was scraping by on a minimum food service wage at the bakery and occasionally catering for old classmates. However, I couldn't rely on unsteady checks like that forever. I needed some more dough to open up for my own place someday.
"If I still had tastebuds," Audrey sighed. "I would love a piece."
"How do you have the strength to mess around with doors and cabinets, but not have human senses?" I couldn't help but wonder as I checked the crust's consistency.
"The same way a gust of wind can slam a door shut." She had made her way next to me. I gauged her presence by the volume of her voice. "Honestly, ghosthood can be really lame."
I laughed, rolling the crust on the metal pie plate. "Tell me about it. I was expecting a scare more theatrical than you."
"I am theatrical." She phased her arm through my shoulder, sending a shudder down my spine. "My friends always called me dramatic until the bitter end."
I frowned, recalling the local news articles I found after she told me her full name. She and her friends were driving home after prom until tragedy struck. Witnesses said she was hesitant to get into the car that night, but went inside since she'd lived the closest to the school.
"You are, but that's not a bad thing," I said the kind of stuff I wish I heard growing up. "Life would be boring if we all reacted the same way."
"I guess," she murmured. "It must be nice being an adult and graduating college."
"No, this grown up stuff can get scary." I shrugged while spooning apple filling into the pie. "Scarier than you. No offense."
"I don't try to be." She floated above my head, one of her favorite resting spots to mess with me. "I like the attention, it makes me feel normal again."
"I better hold the record of longest resident."
"Well, technically, it's me since I'm older than you."
Judging from the timeline I got from both word of mouth and her directly, she was a decade older than me. "Don't worry, you don't look a day over 18," I joked.
"Well," she said. "Momma always said I would age well."
After putting the top layer and putting it in the oven, I sat on a dining room seat to relax. Audrey usually tried to steal my food to no avail or read my texts, but this time she sat across from me. Those unblinking, blank eyes looked like they were collecting tears.
Her voice wobbled. "I wish I knew how she was doing."
"Oh, Audrey." As much as she can get on my nerves, my heart ached for her more. "I'm sure she misses and loves you so much."
"I just wish there was something I could do for her." Audrey huffed, shrugging her sadness off like a coat. "I hate that I can't leave this place."
As the delicious smell of apple, butter, cinnamon, and sugar started wafting in the air, a lightbulb lit up in my mind. "Does your mom like apple pie?"
"She loves it." Audrey stared at the pie in the oven.
Grabbing a random napkin and pen strewn on the small table, I got to work. "Do you know where she works? She could be my first taste tester."
"I can't believe I didn't think of that first," she said sheepishly. "It's been a while, but she was paid well as a nurse at Dove's Crossing."
"A nurse." I looked at her in disbelief. "What business did you guys have living here in this moth's nest?"
"It wasn't always like this." She rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault rent seems to go up and the quality of living doesn't."
"Ditto, but you can't scare the next handyman I call by rattling the pipes and shaking the cabinets."
"Please, those ancient things shake themselves."
"Fine then, I blame Muffin," I said. "The world's strongest cat."
The two of us chatted and giggled until the oven dinged. As I let the pie cool and got ready to drive out, Audrey stopped to give me a hug. It felt warmer than the tray in my hands.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For showing me what a real friend can look like."
"Anytime," I whispered back. The kitchen was my place of solitude as a kid, but now, I wanted to share it for two.
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