my father continued. “We were so devastated we didn’t get to tell you about her getting sick. I’m sorry.” That was all too much information for me to process. I looked at my father, then, at my mother. I definitely didn’t believe my ears. “Dad, I’m not crazy. I know what I saw. I saw this guy and he talked to me. I noticed he had a strong French accent. He was about your age and he knew mom’s name. He was tall, slender and dark-haired.” Once more, my parents looked at each other. They had always had that annoying habit of talking without saying a word. For outsiders, like myself, the way they could communicate was uncanny. My father opened his wallet and showed a picture of a very handsome dark-haired man. It was the same guy I had seen at Club Desire. “That’s him, dad. He was older, obviously, but I’m sure it was the same man.” “Babe, you know on my side of the family there are descends from Salem witches, right?”
