Saving Elijah

light-headed and dizzy a lot of the time. It took and it took, and every time it was through with me I was filthy, and there was less of myself. It was as if it were eating away actual pieces of my tissue. Perhaps it was.
    When I passed a mirror I seemed less there, seemed to be taking up a smaller amount of space in relation to everything else. My eyes became very light, almost clear, the circles underneath them deep and dark. It was as if I were fading, mixing with background.
    The demon had not hesitated to threaten Elijah, and I feared for Alex and Kate. Because of them, I had to let the demon possess me anytime, anywhere—slim protection for my children, or perhaps none, but I saw no other option.
    One morning I passed my bedroom mirror and thought I saw the face of Seth Lucien staring back at me from within my own skin. I covered the mirror with a sheet.

    *    *    *

    "Can you talk?" It was Peter. Six days later, he was calling me at home.
    "Is that Daddy?" Over the last few days, Kate had taken to spending a lot more time at the kitchen table, as if she wanted to watch over me, as if she were noticing my deterioration and feared I'd suddenly fade out. I'd also noticed she'd removed her favorite photograph of Sam and me from the collection on her desk, leaving just an empty space in its place. Kate had taken it herself about four years ago. Charlotte had come to baby-sit for Elijah, who was about a year old, and Sam and I were going to a dress-up "do" at a fancy New York hotel, an affair involving one of Sam's clients. I was laughing hysterically in the photograph. Sam was goosing me in my gown.
    I covered the mouthpiece of the cordless phone. "No, honey." Into the mouthpiece I said, "Wait a minute."
    I took the phone into my bedroom, where the evidence of my nightly exertions was sitting in plain sight—special candles, books, crystals, the covered mirror. In those August weeks, I spent many a morning before I picked up Elijah in the Westport Public Library, reading about demonic possession, looking for exorcism schemes. At night I lit candles in my bedroom and recited incantations and prayers. All kinds of prayers, Catholic, Jewish, New Age, whatever I could find.
    None of it helped. The demon appeared night after night, cold and white and laughing. When I felt its presence and then saw it I simply blew out my candles and let it take me, place its cold lips at my neck, slide itself over my skin, searching for its opening. The human body has many, many openings.
    Now I quickly shut the door behind me, and apologized to Peter for not calling him back. He said he'd heard the office message.
    "Why are you taking a leave of absence?" he asked.
    I looked over at the mirror, covered with cloth, then out the window. A brilliant red cardinal was sitting on a low branch of the tree just outside the window. I looked away. I realized I didn't want to share my reasons with this man, even carefully edited reasons. I didn't want to share anything with him. He was a stranger to me, as I was a stranger to me.
    "It's not something I want to talk about, Peter."
    He was silent for a minute, then said, "What happened, Dinah? I woke up and you were gone."
    "I realized that I made a terrible mistake and I needed to leave."
    "I see. And now?"
    I sighed. "I made a terrible, terrible mistake."
    "We could be good together, Dinah," he said softly.
    "Please, Peter. Don't call me again."
    There was a hesitation, then he said, "Okay, if that's how you want it."
    "That's how I want it. I have to go." I hung up the phone, and sat there.
    "Mom?" My bedroom door opened. Kate stopped, dead in her tracks. She was staring at the covered mirror. "Mom, what the hell—"
    I jumped to my feet. "It's just... I..." I couldn't think of a single explanation. What was the point of trying to explain anyway?
    Kate was looking back and forth from me to the mirror, then she turned and ran.
    I heard her feet slapping down the hall, the slam of her bedroom door. Now she would lie down on her bed and cry, under her poster of the latest hot young star whose name I didn't know.
    I lay down on my own bed in the dark beside the empty place where my husband belonged. Very soon, I was not alone.

    *    *    *

    "Daddy?" Kate had answered the phone. I was jumping every time the phone rang, like a hopeful teenager with a new crush. "When are you coming home?"
    I was standing on the other side of the kitchen. Alex was sitting with Elijah at the kitchen table,