As we had driven through the section that butted up to a cemetery, Jess said from the backseat, “Del told me they said they moved the bodies when they built this highway, but I bet they didn’t.”

I shivered, thinking that we were sitting in traffic over people’s family members. Skeletons, even, at this point. Once, they had been breathing, living people who had a favorite food, a book they hated, a treasured song. Now they were part of the roadway we drove over as we cursed traffic and listened to AM radio.

“Why couldn’t Mavis have possessed whoever approved the plans to do that instead of Liz?” Melissa had muttered, mostly to herself.

As I took a long sip of wine, Mark laughed. “Well, now I understand why you had to make it a double, then.”

I looked at him and a pang of longing ran through my bones. So much had happened, and my friends and I had gone through so very much, and he didn’t know about most of it. Sure, we had kept secrets from each other in our marriage, but they were mostly about who ate the last of the ice cream or who had forgotten to shut the garage door overnight. Never something like this. I didn’t want this to be the beginning of more terrible secrets.

I set my wineglass down on the table and then quickly picked it up and took another large gulp of liquid courage. And then I turned to him. “I have to tell you something.”

He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees, hands clasped together. “Okay.”

“It’s about Liz.” His eyes briefly closed for a moment and then he looked at me, silent, waiting.

And I told him that my friends and I were going to perform an exorcism.

His face remained the same, impassive and neutral, as I went through it all. Not so much as a flinch or a lean back against the couch.

It felt both cathartic and terrifying to tell him, like a confession. It was as though I floated above my body, listening, realizing how ridiculous and awful the words sounded. But I had to tell him, like a marital therapy session. Looking back, it might have been easier to confess if I had been cheating or had a gambling problem and spent our life savings at Rivers Casino betting on Japanese horse racing.

When I finished, I took another deep drink and waited for his response.

He slowly looked down at the floor and pressed his fingertips together, over and over.

“Mark?” I said quietly.

He glanced up, his face creased with worry, and he looked like he had aged ten years in those few minutes.