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42 chapter fifteen The ladies’ room When I worked at the studio I was considered a woman exceptionally skilled with stories of magic. Deeply admired for my dexterity with the uncanny, I also was praised for my intuitive logic. My position was very high: I decided on all the colors for movies. One of my underlings—or so she liked to be called— held rational views, and often expressed the conviction that ghosts simply did not exist. It was a bit of an obsession of hers. The films we were charged to illustrate with animations were always about spirits—fairies, godmothers , ghosts. These were obvious fictions, not real life, she would argue. I greatly liked the underling, though I knew that her views were foolish. Ever since I was a child I have believed in the fairies—and it has brought me great joy. One day,the underling had an unexpected visitor at her desk. The woman who appeared wore black clothes with white lapels. She was very small—less than five feet—and had a gleaming cap of hair on her head that seemed to change colors in the fluorescent light. I joined them—it was time for a break in any case, as I had reached the end 43 of usefulness on a particular task—and the conversation touched on many arcane subjects that did not make obvious sense (pomegranates, chariots, fields). Eventually the subject at hand turned to ghosts, and my underling and the stranger obviously held strong and contradictory opinions. They argued for a long time, unhappily , while I stood there shifting this way and that in my black pumps, smiling upon both women as was my style; I was known for my smile, how it shone with rare attention, yet was not contrived. And eventually, I put an end to their bickers. I purported that we were under a deadline and that the underling needed to turn to the main character’s dress immediately, without argument. The dress was supposed to be robin’s egg blue but,when enlarged on the screen,was showing up as puce for some reason. I did not want the stranger to feel unwelcome, so I invited her to contribute opinions. Besides , I concluded, I considered both the stranger and the underling to be bested by the obvious fact, which was that ghosts could not be proven to exist, or not to exist., and that we could all hold to our convictions, correctly or not. That way, I concluded, everyone could be happy! The stranger, who, if I have not yet mentioned it, was very attractive, said, “Lucy, you are more than clever with words.” She continued in a surprising, dark tone: “But, your reasoning is not golden to me. For I myself am a ghost and I have been assigned to take you. Your time expires tomorrow.” There was a brief pause, and then the underling said, “That seems sort of blunt.” 44 I myself was not surprised. My sisters had been taken to darkness many years ago, one after the other. So far I had escaped—I thought it was simply my nature. Like in a folk tale: my luck. But maybe there was some sort of curse upon the whole family, or at least upon its girls. Perhaps because we were Jewish. This all occurred to me too quickly and without any logic; looking back I know I was in a state of unconditional panic. Yet the underling,who was rather fond of me and often did errands for me without my even asking—dry cleaning, shined shoes,and the like—pleaded in distress.Finally the ghost said to her, “Do you know anyone who resembles Lucy?” “Yes,” the underling said. “Both of her sisters.” They both slowly and creepily smiled. Then the ghost and the underling disappeared into the ladies’room for a while,exchanging conspiratorial glances. They walked there arm in arm. How they had suddenly become compatriots I did not understand, but it too did not surprise me. Some women are inclined to join forces and gang up on other women. Everyone knows this. When they emerged from the ladies’ room they each held one knitting needle, which they carefully placed at my temples. Then they began, with their palms, to tap them right into my brain. “I feel some pain in my head,” I said. “Just a slight . . . yes, there . . . oh, if only you hadn’t insisted on my calling you underling,” I...

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