Like Moonlight on Water: Chapter 5
Drowning
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Drowning
“Lila? The steamer…?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I turned from the window, trying not to frown at the pretty young woman.
“I-I don’t know how to use the steamer, and I don’t want to damage—”
“Oh!” I took a deep breath and worked up an apologetic smile. “Tessa, I’m sorry. I’m a flake today.”
Her huge brown eyes were all sympathy. “You’ve been so sick! I hate that you had to come train me.” She held the steaming fabric brush like it was a hissing viper. “The register and stuff was easy, but…”
“Trust me, I needed to come back to the real world.” If only I had been sick, instead of Maureen and Phil’s memories being changed by aliens. Real world, indeed.
After a few minutes of instruction, the first blouse was non-wrinkled perfection. Only eleven more to go. “Easier than making a double-decaf cappuccino. You’re an expert now,” I told her.
Her face dimpled with a big smile, and I moved off to find a task of my own. I’d wanted to come back to work to try to reclaim one element of normalcy, if not sanity; but now that I was here, it all felt so…stupid. Who really gave a shit if the new shipment of shirts was wrinkled? Or stayed in the box? Or never even got ordered to start with? I’d promised Maureen that I’d handle all the details for The Urban Nymph’s customer appreciation event, but instead I was back at the front window, watching a scruffy bumblebee on a weed in a sidewalk crack.
No wonder Sal was disgusted with me. Aliens think a lowly human can help save the world, and instead she kills a few hundred honey bees. And then goes to work. In a goddamn clothing store. While mooning over another woman’s husband!
I spun around—startling poor Tessa—and planted myself at the counter. Tonight, I would do whatever the hell it was that Sal wanted, but for now…for now, a promise was a promise. I grabbed pen and paper and set to work on a to-do list.
Luckily, Maureen had already mailed invitations to our regular clients. I added that as the first item, and checked it off. Food, music, and decorations were added next. What about door prizes or goodie bags? Coupons for the grand opening at Lumina Market? I pinched the skin between my eyes. Had I really killed those poor bees? How? We should run a sale next week. Something that seemed generous but wouldn’t be a loss.
“Tessa? Maureen told you about the customer appreciation party next Friday…?” I didn’t wait for her nod. “Pick out a top you like and an accessory from the Kure collection.” I pointed to a display I could afford. “We need to represent.”
Her ecstasy would’ve been adorable if I shared any enthusiasm at all. But I didn’t.
“Actually, pick something for me, too.” That made two items checked off the list.
“Oh, look! Eileen’s here, with—” Tessa gasped.
I looked up and saw what every mother secretly fears. My almost-fourteen-year-old, dressed neck-to-toe in tight black leather, dismounting from a sleekly menacing, massive red motorcycle. Because, of course, when Sal said ‘bike’ this morning, he meant a two-wheeled, all-electric, zero-to-one-ninety death machine.
“Son of a…” Bastard.
Said S.O.B. must have heard me through the window, because he nearly dropped Eileen’s black helmet with sparkly gold flames. In fact, even through the plate glass and with a good thirty feet between us, he looked rather sick to his sexy-male-model, tight-t-shirt-clad, alien stomach. Eileen, however, was the happiest I’d seen her in days.
She burst into the store, setting the bamboo chimes rattling and talking a mile a minute. Sal trudged after.
“Did you see me?! That thing is awesome! Mom, you have to try! We went so fast I couldn’t even breathe and—”
“Not that fast!” Sal interjected.
“And it’s silent! Because it’s electric! And it goes from zero to racing like that!” She tried to snap her fingers, but laughed when she realized she still had gloves on. With a flamboyant twirl, she kicked one leg out to show me a zippered boot. “Vegan! It’s all leather made from mushrooms! Isn’t that awesome?!”
“Two awesomes and a twirl. That’s something alright.”
She barreled into me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mad! I love you!”
Sal offered a weak, hopeful smile which I ignored to press my cheek against my daughter’s messy curls. The boots made her taller, and the whole outfit…I hugged her even tighter.
A hiss and a loud clatter made us all turn to Tessa. Red-faced, she popped two fingers in her mouth and bent to pick up the steamer attachment from the floor.
“Aw, hey, Tessa! Did you burn yourself?” Eileen hurried over, pulling off her gloves so she could inspect Tessa’s hand. “Ouch. Better let Sal take a look.” This time her snap was loud, and Sal jumped.
“It’s nothing…” Tessa cringed, “It doesn’t hurt…”
“Of course it does!” Eileen insisted. “Let Sal look. He was a medic in the Red Cross.”
My daughter’s lie sounded so natural that I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Well? Get on with it.
Somewhat surprisingly, he didn’t hesitate—or even roll his eyes—though poor Tessa looked ready to bolt and run. That was not surprising, however, since he’d acted like such a lordly poseur when she’d served him at the coffee shop.
“May I try something?” he asked politely. “Since we do not have any analgesics?” At her breathless nod, he lifted her hand with his fingertips. “No indications of blistering, so perhaps…” He pinched the skin on the back of her hand and her eyes widened in shock.
Or at the shock. Eileen flashed me a grin as Tessa waggled her fingers in amazement.
“It’s…they’re…” Confusion and awe mingled in her expression. “Th-thank you?”
Sal shrugged. “Acupressure.”
“So how’s your first day going?” Eileen distracted her while Sal joined me at the counter.
“Okay, you.” I kept my voice low. “That was very nice. Now what the hell were you thinking?” I jabbed a finger toward the death-mobile outside. “That thing—”
“Lila, please.” He glanced toward the girls and spoke so quietly I had to lean across the counter to hear. “She is safe with me.” When I opened my mouth, he laid a warm hand on my arm. “If an activity is safe for me, it is safe for her. She is safe with me,” he repeated. A gentle tingle traveled the length of the scar on my palm.
He meant the modulators. As if super-healing trumped steel roll bars and a seatbelt. My free hand snatched the short curls above one perfectly-formed ear and yanked his head to my level. “If anything happens to my child…” I growled.
“My life for hers,” he agreed.
I pulled him closer and bared my teeth. “Not good enough.”
A slow smile spread across his beautiful face. “You always sur—”
“Y’all are such a cute couple!”
I shot upright and sputtered in Tessa’s direction, but Eileen saved me the trouble of finding words.
“He’s not her type. At. All.” She threw me a look as black as her ensemble. “He’s just living with us because he doesn’t have a job.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean…” Tessa looked like she wanted to crawl under a clothing rack and hide.
I glanced at Sal, who was nervously watching Eileen, and sighed. “What a manager I make. Bet grinding beans sounds pretty good right about now.”
Tessa’s dark braids swished. “Uh-uh! This is my dream job.” All three of us looked at her, and she lifted her chin. “I design and sew. I want to own my own store someday.”
“You have the talent to be successful,” Sal said.
Tessa’s mouth dropped open, and mine, too.
“Your photography skills are average,” he told her. “But Dancing in Blue revealed your gift for detailed handwork and complex patterning.”
“Th-thank you…? How…?” Tessa looked to me as if I could explain, but Sal continued.
“I presumed the model was wearing your creation. The composition felt personal. Authentic.”
“Riverside Coffee!” I exclaimed. Wall art.
Tessa beamed. “You saw it? I was so bummed when my boss hung it by the bathroom.”
“High traffic area,” I said. “He did you a favor.” Although I had barely glanced at the moonlit scene—and hadn’t noticed Tessa’s name on the placard.
Yet Sal had not only seen a framed photograph, he’d considered it long enough to evaluate the cut of the model’s dress. The alien was full of surprises today.
“What’s that for?” Eileen pointed at my list.
“Work. Which I should be doing.” I grimaced at my chicken scratch.
“Your priorities need adjustment.” Sal slid the paper to his side of the counter. “You have more important work.” He flipped the paper over, picked up the pen, and with rapid, neat strokes outlined every task down to which clothing racks should be moved to allow space for a table with food.
Eileen leaned in to see and nodded. “Be right back.”
She dashed out while Sal gave Tessa and I our assignments, leaving two for himself.
“Wait…” I snagged the list. “You want to bring food? No, I should call a cater—” I stopped. None would be available on such short notice. And my abilities were pretty much limited to opening a box of crackers and a jar of olives. Shit.
“You could use the kitchen at my church,” Tessa offered. “It’s licensed as a commercial kitchen. We take meals to the homebound three times a week, and have an after-school program.”
“And it’s only seven blocks away,” Sal mused. “That will do nicely.”
“How do you—”
“This is a lot to ask on your first day of work,” I interrupted. “Won’t the church mind?”
Her wide eyes shifted and blinked at me, “Hmm? Oh! No, Uncle B. is the pastor.”
“Please express our gratitude,” Sal told her. “I will prepare additional dishes as a donation for your distribution.”
For Sal, it was settled. But as I wondered why he knew so much about Tessa, the chimes rattled again. Eileen had brought Miss Hester, who stopped two steps into the shop and planted her hands on her polyester-covered hips.
“This child tells me she rode that.” She gestured with a bony elbow.
I pointed at Sal.
“You.” She marched over and tipped her head back to glare up at him. “So I was right.” At 5-foot-nothing, she hardly looked intimidating; but Sal’s shoulders drooped. “You. Be. Good!” She poked his stomach to punctuate each word.
“Um, Miss Hester?” Eileen prompted, “Flowers for the party?”
“Yes, yes.” The feisty octogenarian flapped a quick wave at me. “Love to. Happy to help. Consider it done.”
Then she swung her arm up and pointed a knobby finger at Sal’s nose. “Are we clear? No funny business.”
He nodded.
“Wonderful.” She clapped her hands together, her face creasing with a wide smile. “Now take me for a ride!”
If my day could’ve ended with the unadulterated glee of a white-haired free spirit clinging to a hunky alien on a motorcycle, I’d have gone to sleep with a smile. But I wasn’t that lucky. By nightfall, my daughter was moodily squishing lentils on her plate and Sal was dropping veiled hints of my busy night ahead.
I put my fork down. “Miss Hester wasn’t scared of you today.”
“Why should she be?” he asked.
“I don’t know…before the storm she just seemed…” I shrugged. “She knows about you, though.”
He pushed the platter of flatbread toward me. “We do not know what she believes. She has always kept her thoughts to herself.”
“So y’all never changed her mem—”
“Eat. You need your strength.”
My stomach gurgled in reply and I peeked at my phone in my lap. Quarter past eight. How long did it take to digest vegetables and bread?
“No phones at the table,” Eileen grumbled.
I lobbed it onto the empty chair—Adam’s chair—and my daughter glowered at her mushed protein.
Sal tossed a piece of flatbread on my plate. “Eat!”
“Sweetie, Adam didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m not happy about the motorcycle either.” I plunked the bread back on the platter and moved it out of Sal’s reach. “He was mad because he cares.”
Sal dolloped more lentils on my plate and jabbed my fork in some sort of root vegetable.
“Seriously?” I slid my plate beside the platter. “I’m not a toddler.”
“Then do not make me feed you.”
“I’m not stupid,” Eileen sulked.
“Honey, come on. He didn’t say you were stupid.”
“Your mother is correct. He questioned your maturity. Specificity matters.”
I kicked Sal under the table and nearly broke a toe. Eyes watering, I bit back some colorful words to try to reason with my kid.
“Leenie, he was scared. You caught him off guard with that selfie. A motorcycle? With a guy he hates?” I glanced at Sal, who nodded in agreement. “And in that outfit…? He just—”
My daughter slammed her fork down. “My outfit?!” she shrieked. “My outfit?! I was smart enough to tell the alien that helmets were the law, and you want to give me crap about my outfit?!” She shoved the table and her chair scraped back. “I’m not stupid!”
She threw her napkin down and ran outside, but Sal caught my arm as I tried to go after her.
“We will go for a walk.” He stood and pointed at the bread. “Eat. I used your rosemary. It will help.”
“Stop with the food already! Jesus Christ!” I slapped my hands to my face and raked my fingers across my scalp. My child made me want to pull my hair out! Literally! But I was the adult, damn it. And I didn’t need an alien to parent my child.
Unfortunately, by the time I composed myself, they were nowhere to be found. I circled the porch, and then the yard, but couldn’t find them in the dark. The motorcycle lurked in the deeper gloom beneath the house like a monster waiting to carry off my young.
Poor Adam. What in the hell had she been thinking? Texting a picture while riding at god-knows-what speed on a motorcycle? He must’ve been worried sick. I had nearly lost it, and I didn’t find out until I got home from work!
And Sal wasn’t much help. “She is safe with me,” he kept repeating, until I finally made him promise to follow my rules because she was my child. But before he agreed, he’d insisted I allow her to ride the damn thing because it made her happy! As if I didn’t want my child to be happy!
I stomped back up the stairs and kicked my feet free of my old running shoes before going back inside. Cleaned the damn floor last night, and wasn’t damn well gonna do it again. “We will go for a walk,” he said. “She is safe with me,” he said. I am an advanced being and you are a pathetic mother, is what he meant.
I flopped back down at the table. Flicked a crumb I’d have to sweep up later. Surveyed the healthy dishes I couldn’t even name. Dropped my head on crossed arms and contemplated my uselessness.
You are pathetic, Lila.
I know. Shut up. My subconscious was like having my grandmother in my brain.
I could smell the rosemary now, fragrant and mouth-watering, drifting from the platter near my left ear. But the scars on my hands were burning. Itching and throbbing against the cooler skin of my upper arms. The nausea was next.
The tip of my nose touched the table and I tried to focus on the neutral smell of aged wood. A lock of hair was trapped between my elbow and temple, tickling, but moving required effort and my stomach muscles were otherwise engaged. Swallowing was a priority as oily saliva pooled in my mouth.
What was I going to do about Eileen? She’d always been a handful, but disciplining her had never really been necessary. And now…it just seemed unfair. What she needed from me was more love. More attention. Twice the parent.
She needed Adam. But how could I do that to them? To him? There was no way to explain without telling him about us…our other lives…the other Eileen. The table dipped beneath me and I pressed my cheek flat against the wood. Our baby.
I touched my belly and the ocean heaved around me. Dark and cold, it clutched and thrust as I gulped for air, my limbs numb in the churning water. Coughing and gasping, I bobbed up and the starry night pressed me down again. Up, lungs bursting, down, gulping thick salty water, legs heavy, hands like sieves—
“Mom!”
Something shook me and I jerked awake, choking and sputtering as my arms flailed for solid ground.
Eileen pounded my back. “What happened?!”
“N-nothing!” I coughed, “F-fell asleep!”
“I thought you were—” She threw her arms around my neck. “Pebbles was trying to get in and you were just laying there!”
Her grip made breathing more difficult, but I hugged her back. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to pick on your clothes. You’re growing up too fast, but—”
“Look what she did!” Eileen pointed at the screened door. The mesh was shredded from knee-height down, and an anxious Pebbles wriggled in Sal’s arms. “We could hear her yowling down the street!”
“She is quite distressed.” Sal released her and she leapt to my lap, latching her claws in my shirt as if she’d never move again. “The latchhook fell into place as she was trying to open the door,” he explained.
Pebbles clung to me, front paws on my chest, eyes round with alarm.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I crooned, “Just a bad dream.” I curled her to me and barked a laugh. “A weird bad dream.”
Pebbles flattened her ears and bit me.
