Like Moonlight on Water: Chapter 10
But Nothing's Fine
If you’re just joining us…welcome! I’m releasing Like Moonlight on Water in installments—info and chapter list here. My goal is to finish this novel this summer, so I’ll be releasing chapters at least twice a week from here ‘til the end. ✨
Click here for the previous chapter, where Eileen’s mood swings are becoming more extreme and Lila’s struggling to balance motherhood, work, and the annihilation of an entire reality.
But Nothing’s Fine
Later that afternoon, I noticed the small shopping bag Tessa had left beside my purse, but even Eileen wasn’t curious. She was busy testing all sixty-four shades in her colored pencil box, one by one, scribble-scratch, on the first page in her new sketchbook.
“That’s very methodical of you,” I commented. “Did you know yellow and blue dots close together look like green?”
She raised her head, one eyebrow lifting slowly, dramatically, before she resumed her task.
Right. Angry again. Besides, what did I know about art? My creativity was limited to one-sided conversations with sparks of light. Or it used to be.
I cut my umpteenth piece of tissue paper into halves and added them to the stack beside Tessa. She was stuffing goodie bags with coupons for the new store, and I was contributing in as mindless a way as possible. Flex, clench, flex, clench…all three scars throbbing in rhythm as the scissor handles rubbed my right palm.
Adam handled pain better than I ever could, but I should’ve made him promise to let Sal stitch the wound. No doubt, an anesthetic zap from an alien would be more helpful than a tetanus shot—and Sal would definitely have taken the opportunity, no matter how many times I told him not to use his abilities without permission.
“Thanks again for treating me to a shirt!” Tessa piped up. “Hope you like what I chose for you…?”
“Mmm…” I nodded and cut another sheet of tissue.
Sal liked Adam. Respected him. Unlike me. I was just a disappointment—whereas Adam was a soldier. If Adam had been the one to sense other realities, he wouldn’t be mewling over melodrama. He’d be working with Sal to save every life he could. Unlike me.
“Want to see mine?”
“Hmm?”
“The top I picked? I have a skirt that’ll really make the floral—”
“Did you feel the Seneca Guns this morning?”
“Wha…” Tessa blinked at me. “No, I didn’t. Darn!”
Eileen’s scribbling stopped.
For God’s sake, Lila!
Shit. I know, I know…
My daughter sniffed and rubbed her nose on her arm before turning to a fresh page. Her thick blonde curls hid her face, but her strokes were light—almost hesitant—as she sketched.
“What time was it?” Tessa asked. “I went for a run this morning, so I must’ve been moving around too much to notice.”
Eileen had such a good soul. Mine, however, seemed questionable. Was it that I couldn’t wrap my brain around the destruction of an entire reality? Or was I just too concerned with my own problems to care?
“You okay?”
“Huh?”
Tessa pointed at my stomach.
“Chia seeds,” she teased. “People aren’t birds.”
I’d trapped the scissors flat, sandwiching them between my scarred palms and the puckered horror that marked my womb.
“No!” I skittered back and dropped the scissors—barely missing her open-toed sandals. “S-sorry! I’m sorry! I spaced out.”
“It’s okay.” Tessa scooped them up and put them safely out of my reach. “You do seem a little distracted…”
“Actually, she sounds like she’s lying.” Eileen snapped the sketchbook closed. “But I’m sure she wouldn’t. Because she’s so honest.”
My mouth dropped open, and every drop of blood in my body flash-boiled. Wide-eyed, Tessa mumbled an excuse and scurried to the dressing area, but lucky for Eileen, the chimes rattled and my boss breezed in.
“Bracelets for the goodie bags!” Maureen dropped a large box on the counter, and then glanced between me and Eileen. “Uh-oh,” she grinned at me. “Is somebody having a bad day?”
“She’s about to,” I replied.
Eileen lifted her chin, and Maureen’s eyebrows rose. Spying Tessa peeking from the dressing curtains, she announced that I had the rest of the day off, whispered “good luck,” and shooed us out the door in under a minute.
“Not acceptable, Eileen!” I unlocked the Bronco and tossed our things in the backseat.
“I’m sick of being lied to!” she shot back.
She slammed her door and wrenched her seatbelt into place. Not to be outdone, I jammed the key in the ignition, and revved the engine to match my fury.
“You. Are. Thirteen!”
“Almost fourteen, and I’m smarter than you!”
My eyes popped, and I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
My knuckles were bright red and white; and from the corner of my eye, I saw Maureen watching from the store window.
“Mom…? I really am sorry.”
I sucked in a breath and held it. Be the adult, be the adult, be the adult. Another breath, longer this time, in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“I didn’t mean it.”
Sure she did. I bit back an inappropriate laugh, and she mistook my clenched jaw for fresh anger.
“I promise, Mom! I don’t thi—”
“Maureen is a friend, but that is my job, Eileen. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Conscious of the show we were performing for my employer, I put the truck in gear and edged out into traffic. After a few blocks, Eileen pulled my right hand into hers.
“Are you still mad?”
“Yep.” I gave her a squeeze and pulled free. How’s that for honesty?
“Can I ask you a question?”
I made her wait until I braked for a stop sign. “Sure you want to hear the answer?”
She nodded, her expression earnest. “Why don’t you do what you’re good at? You always want me to do what I’m good at…but you don’t.”
I broke eye contact to check the cross street. “I used to think I did a fair job of being a mother.” Not really, but as Sal had observed, my best skill was deflection.
“That’s not an answer.”
Or, maybe not. The Bronc bucked a bit as I stepped on the gas.
“Look. No matter what Sal thinks, I cannot fix anything bigger than you and me.” And maybe not even that. My mother died long before my teens, and Mimi gave up on me at ten—so what did I know?
I gasped.
“What?” Eileen leaned forward, worriedly scanning the street and sky. “What is it? I don’t see anything…”
“Nothing,” I reassured her. “It’s fine. I just remembered that I needed to—” I stopped myself.
My grandmother had not given up on me. Although our relationship was strained, I hadn’t moved out until I left for college. Eileen needed to be protected from lots of things—like her mother slowly losing her mind from mixed-up memories—but this moment was about us, and that deserved truth.
“I just had a flashback to being a kid…and how mad I used to make Mimi.”
“Because you wouldn’t use your powers?”
“Powers? Puh-lease. But no…” I dug for more truth. “In fact, she’d get really angry when I did anything out of the ordinary. I was…too much.”
The cab was stuffy, and I rolled down the window. That long ago day had been hot. Sticky and humid. Almost summer… Three handfuls when God only gave her two hands. What had we argued about? I’d wanted something and run away, but not far…
“Are we going to Sal’s?” Eileen asked as we turned onto a side street. “You’re worried about him.”
“Yes.” Another truth. I deserved a gold star sticker. “The way he communicates with his team is…terrible.”
“Like how we found him? After he disappeared?”
“Worse.” I sped up, too fast for the narrow street. “That was different. They punished him for helping us, but I don’t think…traveling…that way usually hurts.” Though he could get lost in another reality. Desynchronized from this one.
“I’ve been worried about him, too. Something feels wrong.”
This time, I reached for her hand.
“We’ll check on him. I’ll check on him,” I corrected. “He calls it dual-time, and it sounds kind of like a mind-meld.” Thank God for Star Trek. “But with more torture than talking.”
Again, truthful. But without the gory details.
Soul rape. That’s what it is, Lila.
I shuddered, and Eileen squeezed my hand tight. When we parked, she immediately opened her door.
“Uh-uh.” I plucked her sleeve. “You wait here. From what Sal told me, he’s not himself afterwards.” To put it mildly. “I don’t know what kind of mood he’ll be in.”
She yanked the door shut.
“Lock it. And stay here. I mean it, Eileen.”
She jabbed the lock, then crossed her arms and glared out the windshield. “I’m not a baby!”
“You’re my baby.” I reminded her. “Now stay put. I’ll be right back.”
I fixed her in a mom-stare as I rounded the front bumper, and from the look on her face, I had about three point zero minutes before she’d barge in. Aliens, alternate realities, and an incorrigible thirteen-year-old. God, give me strength.
Sal’s house was just as gray and gloomy as the last time I’d seen it. A squat, sagging bungalow on a street where you were more likely to have an alien for a neighbor than fresh paint on your front door. The overgrown camellia bushes and crooked brick steps were still the only spots of color.
A few weeks ago, I’d come seeking answers from a strange but beautiful young man—and ended up flushed, scared, and scurrying for my truck. As if on queue, my body heated and I tripped on a crack in the walkway.
I glanced back at Eileen, but her profile was all pout and pointed chin. Make that two point zero minutes. I hurried to the front door and twisted the age-blackened knob. Seemed fair, since Sal felt no compunctions letting himself into my—
“Eee!” I shrieked as a gray tabby snaked out and leapt from the porch to disappear in the bushes. Jesus Christ! What was it with Sal and cats? Black spots peppered my vision, but I turned at the threshold to wave at Eileen.
She mouthed something she most certainly did not want me to lip-read; and I shut the door. Then I locked it. I might not be a great mom, but I wasn’t a stupid one.
Just less-smart than my genius tweenie-bopper.
“Sal?” I called out. The day’s sunshine barely penetrated the foyer’s grimy windows, and the dark hallway led past a vacant room to an even emptier kitchen. An inquisitive cockroach turned to observe me before continuing its trek across the grubby linoleum floor.
No wonder Sal eats with us.
The roach stopped and turned again. Antennae wiggled, and I had the distinct impression it was telling me not to be so judgmental.
Focus, Lila. Something’s wrong.
I know. If the hallway was dark, the stairs were like a ramp into blackness.
“Sal?” I called up.
My only answer was an instant rash of goosebumps. Could he even hear me if he was still linked? Link was a ridiculous word. Too cheerful and brief. What Sal had described was anything but.
Mindful of my impatient child—and the roach’s extended family—I fumbled my way up the stairs and to a door outlined with pale gray light.
“Sal?” I rapped once, then groped for the knob. Inside, a small window illuminated a tiny room tucked beneath a pitched ceiling.
An empty room—except for Sal’s body.
I stumbled in and dropped to my knees, afraid to touch him and afraid not to. He was face-up on the floor, hands clutching a thin, ratty blanket twisted beneath his long body. Lightly, my fingers flitted from his brow to his bare torso, but he was cold. Rigid. The golden sheen that always emanated from his skin was now the sickly hue of yellowed marble, and his lush lips were thin and blue.
Yet that was nothing compared to his eyes. Dry and staring, the dull white orbs were streaked with burst blood vessels around cloudy, cracked-ice irises. One pupil a pinprick, the other larger, as if even the tiniest of muscles had suffered.
Talk to him, Lila! Maybe he can hear you.
“S-Sal? I’m here.”
I stroked his arm, slick and cadaverous, and tried to hold his hand, but I couldn’t loosen his death-claw grip on the smelly wool. A thick sob choked me, and I leaned over to hold his face.
“W-wake up! You need to wake up now.” I patted and slapped his cheeks. “Sal! It’s been too long…it’s been all day…please w-wake up!”
His pupils widened.
“Yes…good! Come back now…” I smoothed his short curls and his lips parted. “That’s it…breathe.” My head sank to his chest, listening as it expanded with air, rushing air, whooshing to fill his great lungs. Grinning and teary, I gathered his face in my hands again. “You big jerk. You scared the—”
He flipped me onto my back and straddled me. I was too shocked to struggle, and he pinned my neck to the floor with one hand.
“Such a troublesome species,” he hissed.
“N-nuh!” My arms flailed, my feet thumping and sliding across the floor—but it was too late for fear.
He leered down at my attempts to wriggle free of his weight, and I clawed at his face—one swipe of my fingernails skimming his nose—and my body exploded in pain.
Frozen in agony, I endured his free hand as it roamed my side and back up to my mouth, his cold fingers peeling my lips back as if to inspect my teeth.
“Troublesome…”—he snapped my legs together with his feet and shoved my arms above my head— “…yet so insignificant.” Casually gathering my wrists in his left hand, and adjusting the fingers around my throat, the pain receded from torturous to bearable.
I gurgled, tears leaking from my eyes. Why?
“We granted you a gift and you flaunt your disrespect. We could have simply dissected you, and then replicated you…only to dissect you again and again until not even your screams had any value.”
His eyes were still like cracked ice; his body so cold and heavy on mine that my hips ached.
“Afraid?” Digging his fingertips under my jaw, he lifted my head from the floor. “You should be.”
He held me there, my shoulders contorted and eyes bulging.
“Mmm…” he inhaled. “Better.” He slammed my head back against the floor. “Now show me in your eyes. Your special human eyes. Beg me not to—”
His head snapped toward the window.
“You brought the child,” he breathed.
Chapter 11, “Insignificant” is next…
Whew. I’m leaving you hanging with this one…
New chapter on Wednesday!— Jennifer