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past two years that I can live without her, that I donât miss her with a visceral, embodied ache, all the time. Pretending that what happened severs the phantom umbilical cord that has tethered us together for more than two decades. As I look around the trailer, every cranny of it steeped in Zelda, I realize that Iâve been fucking kidding myself. I want my sister so bad it hurts. And I realize, suddenly, that thatâs what sheâs been trying to do. This entire schemeâÂthe fire, her supposed deathâÂis a little show, a spectacle for my benefit. Sheâd had enough of my punishment, and this is her saying: You canât ignore me, Ava, you canât live without me. You canât get away from Silenus, you can never leave ME. Scarves, fabric, textiles, prints cover all the walls. I can see at least three of Zeldaâs colorful kimonos draped on various surfaces. The bed is rumpled, unmade, and I sit down on it, holding a pillow to my face, breathing in her scent. Thereâs a lump in my throat that Iâm working very hard to dislodge. Maybe Iâve overreacted, these past two years. Could I have been blowing it out of proportion? It was a betrayal, yes. And what happened afterward doesnât even bear dwelling on. But maybe .â.â. Then I realize that Zelda is manipulating me without having to say a single word, and I toss her pillow across the room in frustration. The pillow takes out a lamp on its way, and I lean my head back, annoyed, unsure why Iâve come to the trailer after all. Just to feel close to Zelda? No, to figure out what game sheâs playing. Weâre playing. Who on earth is Jason? And the locked barn doors? I suspect her of staging everything, but why let the police think itâs murder? If she was going to fake her own death, sheâd only be making everything more complicated by leaving clues suggesting that it was not accidental. Why risk alerting the cops that all is not as it seems? My recent fixation on Poe immediately makes me think: locked-Âroom mystery. As though she knows how this would tantalize me. I get up and pad around the trailer, looking at Zeldaâs artifacts. A bizarre ceramic sculpture here, a spent candle toppled onto its side next to a pile of sketch notebooks carelessly scattered on the table. Good way to start a fire. The trailer is cluttered with years of Zeldaâs
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