No dominos again tonight and nobody wants to play Scrabble after the fight between my uncle and aunt. I’m reading my book for about the millionth time since Mom said “no” to playing video games after supper. I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of bored with playing games, anyway. Not that I’d ever say it out loud.
Mary Beth is talking to Nana’s urn on top of the fridge. “What do you think, Mama? Leave or stay? Is there going to be a hurricane or just a little rain?”
Creepyola, like she expects my nana to answer.
“Twilight Zone,” Rita says, real soft.
Mom covers her mouth, but her eyes are laughing.
“Those ashes in there going to tap once for “yes” and twice for “no”?”
“Don’t make fun, Rita. I know Mom’s spirit is still here because I feel it. Every night I pray for guidance.”
“And what
