“Well, I have to stand in Claire’s shadow. I’ve seen her on the YouTube recordings. She was extraordinary.”
“She had her flaws like anyone else, Jazz. Don’t canonize her.”
“How do we leave our past partners at the bedroom door?” she asked.
Roan gulped. “I don’t know.”
“We need a clearing ritual.”
“Huh?”
“I know it sounds woo-woo, but it’s just symbolic. A visual to help release whatever needs clearing from your life. My friend Charlie and I do smudging. We learned it in group therapy when wewere kids. It’s the placebo effect, obviously, but it’s surprising how well it works.”
“Smudging?” Roan shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Told you, you’re way out of my league.”
“Don’t start with that again.” She swatted his arm lightly. “You burn a stick of sage and write down or recite aloud an intention that expresses your desire to let go of whatever it is that’s keeping you from moving forward.”
“You got a stick of sage on you?”
She pulled a rueful face. “No.”
“I’ve got ground sage in the spice cabinet. Would that work?”
“Since the whole thing is symbolic and there’s nothing magical about a sage stick...” Jazzy shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
They went to the kitchen and Roan got out the sage.
“What can we put it in that we could burn and wouldn’t damage the container?”
“I have a marble mortar and pestle.”
“Perfect. We just need the bowl part. Is that the mortar or the pestle?” she asked.
“Mortar.” He got it from the top of the cabinet and passed it to her.
She shook in a healthy dollop of sage. “Do you have a lighter?”
He retrieved a long-handled grill lighter.
She took the lighter and the sage-filled mortar down the hall to the guest bedroom, Roan following at her heels. Pausing at the door, she said, “Let’shave a moment of reverence for who we were and where we’ve been.”
“Um, okay.” Roan closed his eyes and bowed his head.
The sight of him looking pious ripped her resolve to shreds. Who was she to insist he perform a ritual to let go of his late wife? She wished she’d never started this in the first place, but they seemed to need some kind of permission to have sex.
Question was, why?
Roan opened one eye and peered at her. “Are we done with this part?”
“Yes.” She paused, anxious to give him a way out if he was having second thoughts. “Open the door and walk through the threshold. Crossing the threshold signifies a new beginning. If you don’t wish to go forward, don’t cross it.”
Without missing a beat, Roan opened the door and stepped inside, no hesitation. She was the one lingering at the threshold, lighter and sage-filled mortar in hand.
Roan looked at her, hand outstretched. The room was bare-bones. A bed and dresser. A TV on a stand. Some serene artworks on the walls. Not much trace of Claire in here. Safe enough. Jazzy took his hand, took a chance, went to him. His accepting smile strengthened her.
“What now?” he asked.
“Think about what you want to release, and I’ll do the same,” she said. Danny popped into her mind, and she saw him growing smaller and dimmer until he faded. Then she flicked the lighter and put the flame to the dried sage.