Like Moonlight on Water: Chapter 13
Direction
If you’re just joining us…welcome! I’m releasing Like Moonlight on Water in installments—start here. My goal is to finish this novel this summer, so I’ll be releasing chapters twice a week from here ‘til the end. ✨ Paid subscribers will have full access to all chapters and receive the finished e-book.
Click here for the previous chapter in which Lila learned a horrible truth.
Direction
On my eighth or ninth lap, Eileen met me at the door, her slim figure outlined by lamplight.
“Adam texted and asked if I’d help him tomorrow. Is that okay?”
When I didn’t answer, her silhouette shifted from one shadowed foot to the other.
“I won’t tell him anything you don’t want me to,” she said.
“What does he need help with?”
Her shoulders lifted and fell. “I don’t care. I just want something to do.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” No work. We could spend the day together, just us. Maybe go to the beach, or…or…who was I kidding? “That’s fine. Tell him anything you want.”
I couldn’t.
Her silhouette shifted again. “Are you coming in now?”
The porch beckoned me with another aimless, shambling loop. Or, I could go to bed and dream about something almost-certain to be horrible. And if I was really lucky, it wouldn’t be a dream at all.
“In a minute.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No, honey.”
I shuffled off, and after a few more laps, Eileen retreated to her bedroom and turned out the light. With the shade open, I felt her eyes on me each time I passed her window, so I came inside. Tried reading, but the letters wouldn’t form words in my mind, so I stared at Pebbles until she hissed and scratched at the door to be let out.
Without a distraction, I fell asleep on the couch and ended up where I often did…in bed beside Adam. But this time I held him while he slept.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?” I rolled over and fell. “Ow!” My elbow had hit the coffee table and my hip, the floor. Great way to start a day.
Eileen helped me sit up and sucked in a breath. “Your neck…”
Judging by the look on her face, yesterday’s drama had manifested in a spectacular fashion. I stroked my throat lightly, expecting throbbing pain, but it was tolerable. My freaking elbow, on the other hand, buzzed and throbbed like Death, himself, was plucking a nerve.
“Doesn’t hurt.” I got to my feet and my hip popped.
“It does. You just made a face!”
“I didn’t make it.” I wobbled to the bathroom. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Adam will be here in a few minutes!” she called through the door.
“Okay, fine…”
Oh, shit. Not fine. My reflection in the mirror looked like a cadaver—and I didn’t own a mortician’s makeup kit. I rummaged under the sink and came up with a sticky old lip gloss and a dried-out tube of concealer. Shit-shit-shit.
I brushed my teeth and hair as fast as I could and threw on a turtleneck sweater and jeans.
“He’s not stupid, Mom,” Eileen informed me.
“Not stupid like me, you mean?” I swept past her to the kitchen. “You need breakfast.” And I need coffee.
“We’re going to get smoothies. And you said I could tell him anything.”
“You can.” I grabbed a pot and shoved it under the faucet. “But should you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it, honey. How will he feel, knowing he can’t do anything? He can’t call the police, or get his military buddies to come duke it out with the aliens. And Sal didn’t do it on purpose.”
Unlike Aislyn.
Adam’s truck rumbled into the driveway.
“But he loves us,” Eileen mumbled. “He’ll want to know.”
After worrying her entire life that I was a bad mother, I was all too aware of every moment being a Teaching Moment with a capital T and M. But, as usual, I wasn’t up to the task.
“Well, if you love him back, don’t make it worse for him. Let him have a good day. You have a good day. Don’t let the alien bastards spoil it.”
A slow grin spread over my daughter’s face—followed by a frown. But she opened the front door before Adam knocked, and told him she was ready to go.
“Good morning to you, too!” he chuckled. “Am I allowed inside?”
I waved and turned to the stove.
“Sal ate all our food and I’m hungry,” Eileen said.
“Y’all have a nice time!” I called over my shoulder. I heard the door shut, followed by Eileen’s bossy voice and their feet on the stairs.
Adam looked better today. Freshly shaved, wearing a crisp white t-shirt. Like he’d finally had a good night’s sleep. As they drove away, I watched from the window and waved again. Then I stripped my sweater off so I didn’t sweat to death.
Sal would return sooner than later, so I pulled on a t-shirt and took my coffee outside to wait. The morning was overcast and muggy, thick with a solid layer of clouds like a gray wool blanket. Mosquitoes found my bare arms and feet, and all the breezes must’ve been in God’s back pocket, because the air was perfectly still. When Pebbles showed up for breakfast, I was glad to retreat inside.
The house was stuffy, so I turned the ceiling fan on and opened the windows that had screens; but without being able to use the screened door, humidity squatted in the rooms like an unwelcome visitor. Summer had arrived. At least Pebbles was happy. She curled up in Sal’s chair and went to sleep.
No, not Sal’s chair. My house. My kitchen table. Well, technically, my parents’ table, but they left it to me along with the house, so the point is… The point was I needed to find something to do. Idle hands, frazzled mind. Or something like that.
I changed from jeans to shorts, noted that my winter leg hair was nearly long enough to braid, and started power cleaning the house. Scrubbed the bathroom first, started some laundry, then vacuumed the bedroom carpets. My least favorite task, and the one that I usually avoided until dust bunnies started roving in packs.
Sweat pouring off me, I conquered the last of the bunnies and turned the vacuum off—just in time to hear voices on the porch. Adam and Eileen were back already.
A particularly colorful word passed my lips, and I dove for my closet and peeled my clothes off. Swabbing my torso with the discarded shirt, I allowed myself one fleeting moment of lukewarm air on my skin before tugging the sweater back on. And my jeans. Partly vanity, since I really did need to shave, but mostly so I could sell my lie.
“Well, hey there,” I greeted them. “What are y’all up to out here?’’
“We’re going to fix the screened door!” Eileen beamed, basking in her time with Adam.
He propped a roll of mesh against the house and eyed my outfit. “Aren’t you hot?”
“I might be coming down with a cold or something.” I faked a shiver. “What’s with—”
“You look flushed.” His eyes moved from my cheeks to my jaw.
“Fever, maybe.” I backed into the shaded doorway. “Don’t get too close.”
“Well, I’m hot!” my daughter announced. “This is shorts weather.” She flashed me a look and ran off to her room.
Thanks for the help, kid.
“Y’all couldn’t think of anything fun to do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The world might end, but until then…”
“There’s a door that needs fixin’…?”
“I’m a simple man.” He grinned, and a burst of angels sparked into being around him.
The sight of them made me happy—and uncomfortable.
“Let me repay the favor, at least. How about I babysit, so you and Cara can go out to dinner?”
He sat on his heels and opened his tool box. “It’s not a favor. I broke it.”
“My cat ruined it first.”
A pair of pliers suddenly held his interest.
“Seriously,” I tried again. “How about next—”
“Maybe sometime.”
The angels flickered, infinitesimal specks of white and blue light between us. A vivid sapphire spark floated over my right shoulder and disappeared, and when I turned back, Adam was looking up at me.
“Do I want to know?” he asked.
“Angel.”
The air itself shimmered now, as if its water molecules were reflecting all the points of light, and when Adam stood, the shimmer bowed and bent around him.
That’s different.
“So where is he?” Adam’s bandaged hand hung by his side.
“Not sure. Does it hurt?”
He flexed and fisted in answer. “Eileen said you argued.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Come on, Leenie…how long does it take to change clothes? “I was about to run an errand…need me to bring you anything?”
Distracted, his eyes fell to my sweater again. “You should rest, shouldn’t you?”
I pulled further back into the house. “Drugstore. Cold medicine—just in case. I won’t be long.” Unless I passed out from heatstroke.
Eileen’s bedroom door opened and she peeked out. “Mom…?”
“Yeah? I’m going to run to…” My eyebrows shot up as she opened the door wider.
Grimacing, she fidgeted with the hem of her shorts. Her very tight, very short shorts.
“Nothing fits…” she whined. “And I’m hot.”
That was some growth spurt. I rummaged through my closet and passed her a pair of mine.
“I’ve never seen you wear these.” She closed the door in my face, and I sighed.
“Is that teenager-code for ugly?”
Her response was muffled, but she came back out with a satisfied grin. “These are cool.” She unsnapped a pocket flap and fiddled with a hidden zipper. “Like spy shorts.”
My old hiking shorts fit her perfectly, but I noticed her toes skirted the edge of her sandals. A shopping trip was in our near future. If the world didn’t end first.
It felt odd to be alone in my Bronco. Odder still that Sal hadn’t shown back up before I left. But both oddities were a welcome relief.
Once I was out of sight of the house, I pushed my sleeves up as high as they’d go and twisted my hair up in a top-knot. With the windows down, I was almost comfortable—though when I parked and checked the mirror, I was most assuredly a damp, frizzy mess. Not exactly the typical shopper for Wilmington’s premier beauty supply superstore.
I combed my hair out with my fingers and pulled it forward over my shoulders. My plan was to dash in and out, but every aisle was a maze of lotions and lipsticks and things I didn’t even recognize. By the time I located foundations and concealers, I’d attracted the attention of a helpful salesperson.
Not ideal, but he quickly selected a few options for “my sister” though he fretted that the coverage might not meet expectations and wanted me to be sure to bring the items back for a full refund if “my sister” was unhappy.
“We aren’t like those other places,” he added.
Having no clue as to what places he meant, I took his word for it and went to check out. My items rang up at an eye-popping amount and the young cashier smiled.
“Bad tattoo?” she asked.
“Something like that,” I handed over the credit card I carried for emergencies.
Immediately, her demeanor changed. She took the card gingerly, like my fingers might snap off, and her eyes skimmed my sleeves and turtleneck before swiping the card.
“Here you go, ma’am.” She pulled a small laminated piece of paper from beneath the register and slid it toward me as she returned my credit card.
The paper read: If you need help, say YES to a text receipt. You are not alone.
“Would you like me to send your receipt by email or text message?” she asked.
“I don’t need a receipt, thanks.” I glanced sideways, but the next person in line was busy scrolling on her phone. “Do a lot of women come in with…bad tattoos?”
The girl sighed and handed me my bag. “More than you’d think. Most humans suck.”
Most humans suck. I thought about that casual assessment on the drive back. Flippant, yet accurate to anyone who watched the news. Which I’d stopped doing after all of the apocalyptic scaremongering at the end of last year.
The humans who made the news last year definitely sucked. Except for the inspirational few who kept us all from giving up entirely and letting squid rule the world.
Humans lied, cheated, killed, raped, mangled, scammed, and worse. So to a few holier-than-thou aliens, we must, indeed, look like a laboratory in need of a flamethrower and bleach. And to the sadists in Sal’s family, we must look like fair game. Easy to blame, with our problematic fractals, and as troublesome as roaches because of our short lifespans and rapid breeding.
But what about the others? The ones like Sal? The ones who saw their own flaws mirrored in ours and wanted to fix what they may have wrought?
I had to cooperate, so I would cooperate. But I wasn’t a child like Mimi had been. The man I’d come to view as a friend, the alien I’d thought was my ally, had done more than harm faceless people in the distant past. He’d destroyed a young girl’s will to live, and tortured the man I loved with guilt over her death.
You do love him!
“No!” I stomped on the gas pedal. “Not like that! Not like you…” Oh, God.
This was bad. I’d always had a fairly mouthy subconscious, but in the past few weeks it had become next-level crazy. Like take-your-meds-and-ignore-the-monkeys-on-the-ceiling crazy.
I eased off the gas and resumed driving with a reasonable degree of care. I was a sane adult experiencing a period of heightened stress. That’s all. No straight-jackets or traffic tickets necessary.
With calm intention, I checked my mirrors and used my signal before I turned onto our road. And then cursed when I saw Sal lifting the back end of Adam’s truck.
Eileen bounded over as I got out. “Sal heard air leaking from a tire and he’s helping change it!”
Adam did not seem nearly as thrilled as my daughter.
“I have a jack,” he muttered when I walked up. Sweat had soaked into his white t-shirt, making it cling to his biceps and torso, and the wrappings on his injured hand were dirty.
Sal, however, was at ease in a semi-squat with the truck’s trailer hitch in his hands, looking for all the world like a great blond Highlander about to toss a caber. Not a drop of sweat, from his blond curls to his bare feet.
He gave me a shy, boyish smile and I shook my head. Not impressed.
Adam tightened the last lug nut and straightened.
“He’s finished!” Eileen sang out.
Sal grunted and settled into a deeper squat to lower the truck to the ground. Superman feat accomplished, he stood up and stretched, obviously pleased with himself.
Like the better man he was, Adam wiped one hand on his jeans and offered Sal a perfunctory shake. “Appreciate the help.”
Seeing their hands clasped, however briefly, made my skin crawl.
“Eileen, why don’t you and Adam go wash up and get something cold to drink?”
Her head bobbed with near-manic exuberance and she dragged Adam away, chattering about how modulators must reinforce bone like rebar in concrete. As soon as they were in the house, I poked Sal’s musclebound chest.
“Don’t do that! Do not try to be his friend!”
“He is a good man. Under different circum—”
“Under different circumstances you might not have killed his kid sister.”
His cheerful expression fell. “I understand.”
“Hey!” I snapped my fingers in his face. “Eyes up here. I’m not saying that to be hateful. I’m saying it because you need to hear it.
“He needs to be told—I don’t know when or how—but it’ll be that much worse if y’all are friends. Can you even imagine what that would feel like?”
Sal’s eyes clouded, heavy and gray like the sky. “He does deserve the truth. From all of us.”
“Agreed. I’m not taking any moral high ground, here, don’t worry. He deserves to know about Eileen and keeping it from him is the right thing to do. Either way, I’m wrong, and either way he’ll hate me. I accept that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” My shoulders squared and my chin lifted. “I accept that a married man is going to hate the woman who isn’t his wife and didn’t ask to get knocked up with his child.”
Sal’s mouth opened and then shut.
“What’s so hard to understand here?” I pressed. “Marriage. You know…sacred commitment? Don’t y’all have marriage?”
He’d flushed beet-red and the tendons in his neck stood out like bones.
“Okay, too personal. I get it. Fine.” I dialed it down a notch. Six thousand years was a long time to be wandering the Earth without a date. Even by my standards. “Where have you been all morning? Not that I’m complaining.”
“I was preparing for Eileen’s return to school.”
The ground swooped beneath my feet and he grabbed my arms.
“I’m fine!” I shook him off. “How many did you…?”
“You are overheated. Dehydrated. Come.” He led the way up the stairs. “And I merely needed to adjust digital records. She has purportedly been sick, remember?”
So, he hadn’t zapped any teachers or kids. But it would’ve been my fault if he had. I stumbled on the first step, and before my knee could smack the tread he was lifting me up and carrying me to the top.
Breathless and dazed, I vaguely registered a cool tingle like menthol in my veins as he set me down in front of the screened door.
“It’s fixed.” Better than new. Dad would be happy.
Suddenly, my brain fog cleared and I realized what Sal had done.
“I know,” he said. “You hate me and I should not have done it.” He ushered me in and gestured to Eileen. “Prepare a glass with water, lemon, sugar, and sea salt.”
She took one look at me and grabbed a glass. “How much salt?”
He pinched the air twice and glanced toward the bathroom before guiding me to the kitchen table.
“I gave Adam our first aid stuff,” Eileen explained. “His hand was bleeding again.”
Her face was still bright and shining with excitement. Or anticipation, because the next thing Sal did was extend his arms, palms perpendicular to the floor, and rotate.
He turned slowly, then faster, and my skin prickled beneath the thick sweater. Eileen forgot my water to mimic Sal’s movements, but dropped her arms after a few spins.
“What’s he doing?” I whispered.
“He’s charging the air to displace heat!”
Sure enough, a light breeze rose and ruffled my hair, followed by a chill wind that whistled through the house and turned my skin prickles to goosebumps.
Adam opened the bathroom door and rocked back in surprise. Unconcerned, Sal continued to rotate, gradually slowing until the wind wound its way through the screens to dissipate outside. The house was now as cool as a fine autumn evening.
Eileen clapped at his performance. “Can my modulators do that?”
Chapter 14, “Spirals” is next…