Like Moonlight on Water: Chapter 20
The Party
Like Moonlight on Water is the sequel to my speculative women’s fiction novel Daughters of Men. Spoilers await, but who cares? Pretend it’s Season 2 of that TV show everyone’s talking about and you’re just tuning in. If you like it, you can start from the beginning later. ✨
The Party
“Muscles and brains! He was a medic in the Red Cross and wired the lights!” Maureen’s chattering dropped to a stage whisper as she grinned across the table at me. “Bet he’s handy at making other things spark…”
Pretending I hadn’t heard her—or the giggles from her doting coterie—I circled around, straightening plates and napkins, moving platters that were fine where they were, until my back faced the women.
I knew it was harmless fun, like a kid sister being a pest on purpose, but after an hour of small talk and smiling, I was ready to leave.
Sliding further down the table, I puttered with one of Miss Hester’s arrangements. The sharp scent of juniper beckoned from a lush display of peonies, but as I gently adjusted one heavy, drooping blossom, I saw only ivy and some type of dark, waxy leaves. She had truly outdone herself, going far beyond the goodwill of a fellow-shopkeeper doing a little cross-marketing.
I bent to inhale the unique sweetness of her artistry, and lingered for a second breath as regret washed over me. I knew so little about her life, and had never thought to ask except once…and even then my reason had been selfish.
When I straightened, Adam was on the other side of the table, an empty plate in hand, and his mouth half-open. I’d been avoiding him—or he, me—and maybe a hello felt too big for his throat, too.
A hand snagged my elbow.
“Doesn’t she look lovely?” Maureen hauled me into her little group. “Scarves are having a moment again…they’re so versatile!” She whisked a floral one from a display and reached for my neck, loosening my bow before I could react.
She gasped, and my hands flew up to cover my bruises.
“I’m not a mannequin!” My laugh was off-pitch, and Sal came from nowhere to lay a hand on Maureen’s shoulder.
“Lila has lovely skin, does she not?” His hand slid behind her neck for the briefest of moments, then dropped.
Maureen’s eyes widened and she nodded slowly. “Like a china doll.”
The ladies tittered polite agreement, in awe of Sal and—luckily for them—not close enough to have seen anything in the ambient lighting.
I excused myself and ducked behind the dressing area curtains, when what I really wanted to do was scream. He’d broken his promise! Again! But if he hadn’t…
Poor Maureen. It was all too easy for him. For them. Humans were so easy to manipulate. To control. And when we resisted…
I stood at the long mirror and unwound the ugly sash, matching my fingers to the purplish-gray blotches ringing my windpipe. This is what mattered, not fashion or dating or socializing at a stupid party.
Aliens. Worlds ending. My daughter.
I’d prove my worth, alright. I’d travel to every goddamn world with a goddamn fractal and bring back whatever goddamn memories the aliens goddamn wanted. But no one’s touching my daughter!
My reflection bared her teeth and I rewrapped my neck. Unfortunately, while I felt ferocious, I looked ridiculous. My skin was too thin for a thick layer of makeup, and the black bow looked like a vampire bat sucking my jugular.
No wonder my boss—my friend—had wanted to help. And in return, I’d gotten her brain zapped by an alien. Again. I tied a square knot instead of a bow, grimaced, and tied a bow again.
“Won’t help. You’re still beautiful.”
I spun to see Adam holding his son, and as he pulled the curtain closed behind them, the outside world disappeared. Which was a horrible thought on multiple levels.
Blushing, I turned to fidget in the mirror again, and he laid Traveler and a bulky diaper bag on the bench behind me. Our eyes met in the reflection, and even deeper color flooded my face.
“How’s your hand?” I turned and waggled my fingers playfully at the baby.
“No infection.” Adam muttered something else I couldn’t catch as Traveler cooed at me.
“That’s good.” I smiled and tried to leave, but Adam stopped me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
His mouth tightened and he gestured to my hands—which were pressed against my stomach.
“You were coming down with something on Sunday,” he reminded me.
“I-I’m fine. Just need to eat.” Eileen is here. She’s real.
Cara’s head popped between the curtains. “I told you…oh.” A frown fixed on her face as she joined us. “I told you I’d change him.”
Adam unzipped the diaper bag. “I’ve got him.” He tickled his son’s belly. “Mama deserves to have fun at her work thing, doesn’t she, little man?”
Traveler hiccupped, and Cara wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist. I left without them noticing.
Not my Adam, not my—
You have to tell him, Lila!
No!
With a careful smile and greetings ready on my tongue, I scanned all the faces for Eileen. At least a hundred customers filled the shop now, and mingling without panicking would be impossible. Only Sal was easy to spot, more than a head taller than everyone else. He nodded toward Eileen and Tessa passing out door prize tickets, and my hands dropped from my stomach. Thank you, I mouthed.
Someone tapped my back, and I turned to a diminutive elderly lady dressed to the nines in our spring collection—complete with a sassy, fuchsia-striped scarf.
“Miss Kate! So nice to see y—”
“That boy!” She pretended to swoon. “Makes my heart go pitty-pat!”
“That’s right, you were in the shop th—”
“The day Maureen introduced you, lucky girl!”
I shook my head in resignation. “So that’s how she tells the story.” To everyone, apparently.
“Who cares how she tells it? He’s delicious, child. Scrumptious. And don’t you dare let anyone tell you he’s too young for you!”
I flinched as she reached up, but she ignored the bow to pinch my cheek.
“Red lipstick and a little rouge, dear. Catchin’ a man’s easier than keepin’ him.”
A loud cackle rescued me.
“You would know!” Miss Hester bumped me aside and planted herself in front of her old friend. “What was it Madeline wrote in your yearbook…?”
Miss Kate patted her coiffed silver curls. “She called me Katherine the Great.”
“And you still think that’s a compliment, do you?”
A long pause had me desperately searching for a way to diffuse the tension—but then both women laughed and started bantering about the old days. Leaving me completely forgotten and free to escape.
Escape to where? Friendly, happy people surrounded me—chatting, eating, perusing the clothing—and I felt trapped. Buffeted between all the energies in the room. Pummeled. Suffocated.
I edged around the walls, grateful that my daughter was safe in the thick of it, but knowing that any second now, Maureen’s lilting call would rise over the chatter. Lila! Has anyone seen Lila?
My fingers tugged the bow. Too tight. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. My hand was on the door when Sal stopped me.
“Come with me.” He stuck a glass in my grip and pressed his other hand against the small of my back. The crowd parted to make room for us, congealing in our wake and blocking my exit.
“I need air, not alcohol!” I hissed.
He bent to my ear. “Fractals avoid my kind—like most humans.” He smiled like he’d just said something delightfully charming and presented me to Phil and Maureen.
“There’s my china doll!” Maureen exclaimed. Phil gave her a sideways look and gently took her wine glass.
Choking on a cry, I gulped my own drink. The distinctly non-alcoholic flavor of melon and herbs distracted me, and Sal nodded as I drained the glass.
“Phil was just complimenting your music selection,” he told me.
Now that I was calmer, I could hear the strains of classical guitar. Sal’s sleeve brushed my bare arm, and air filled my lungs.
“Sal gets the credit,” I confessed to Phil and Maureen. “Music, lighting, food…”
“I want to help you.”
His quiet words thrummed through my body and my fingers laced with his.
As evening became night, door prizes were announced and the crowd thinned. Loyal customers left with big smiles and tiny goodie bags—and more than one lady offered a blush to Sal on her way out. Miss Kate offered a kiss. Sal took her hand instead, and pressed his lips to her age-spotted wrinkles. A true gentleman—or an alien mindful of his modulators.
By nine, only a few dozen people remained. Couples, friends of Maureen and Phil’s, neighboring shop owners…the party atmosphere mellowed beneath the canopy of faerie lights. Sal had apparently planned for this part of the evening as well, and soft jazz replaced the guitar. Eileen was happily talking science with a professor and her husband, and the claustrophobic press of energy in the room had subsided to a manageable level.
I hid my exhaustion behind smiles and leaned against Sal when I thought no one was looking. Not that it mattered, really, since everyone seemed to think he was my boy-toy. And the closer I stood to him, the less people tried to talk to me—which was a bonus.
Adam and Cara had stayed, too, with a sleepy Traveler passed among ever-willing arms. I’d offered to take him once, but Cara had turned to Phil. Seeming somewhat surprised, he ended up cuddling the infant longer than anyone, with his beaming young wife at his side.
It didn’t take a psychic to see a baby in their future. Just two weeks ago, I’d heard she wanted a child. Adam had told me. When he’d come for Mother’s Day. When he’d thought his wife had left him. When he’d been falling for…
“Come!” Sal twirled me away with a brilliant grin. “Dance with me.”
I resisted, but he slid one hand around my waist and lifted my chin with the other.
“One dance,” he said.
Maureen clapped and Phil whistled—startling poor Traveler into a full-throated howl—and I thought I’d melt from the heat of my own embarrassment.
“Pretend,” Sal soothed. “Just for a moment.” His head bent over mine, tucking me against him so I had no choice but to press my cheek to his chest and let my hips sway with his. Or was it the other way around? My body was confused, by my emotions, by his actions, by his warmth and smell.
“What are you doing?” I breathed. Salt and a rich musk mingled with a coppery, metallic scent.
“Distracting you,” he murmured.
My thin blouse welcomed the heat of his hands, and when he pulled me even closer, I felt like his fingerprints would be forever on my skin. It felt wonderful. And wrong.
“Distracting me from what?” I mouthed against his shirt, my hot breath blending with his body’s warmth. It was like being enveloped by my own personal sauna—his arms and torso made of heated stone, perfectly sculpted to encase me.
With a theatrical spin, he unfurled me toward Adam and Cara, then rolled me back into his arms.
“He’s not my Adam,” I said. My words surprised me, but Sal merely brushed my ear with his lips.
“He could be.”
I stiffened, and Sal clutched my waist, holding me tighter still. His nose bumped mine gently, like a prelude to a kiss, but his gaze was clear and steady. Faerie lights reflected in his pupils, like angels beckoning in the dark.
An offer. An immoral, horrible…kind offer.
“Pretend time is over,” I told him.
For the next long hour, I skirted the periphery, joining others’ conversations, busying myself with tidying the refreshments table, trying to avoid being anywhere near Sal—or Adam. But while Sal was an aggravation, Adam was my true North, and my awareness followed him as dutifully as a compass needle.
Not my Adam, I reminded myself over and over again. But his bandaged hand around a fresh drink contradicted me. Was that his third tonight? Fourth?
He caught me looking once, and the twenty feet between us felt like an unfathomable gulf. I missed our angels.
“Sometimes it’s about the dance, not the partner, honey.” Miss Hester took a plate from the stack I’d just straightened and plopped a bunch of grapes on it. “I should know.”
She winked and put the plate in my hands. “Eat.”
“What do you know?” I wondered aloud, surprising myself for the second time that night.
“Oh, my dear, nothing that would help you, I’m afraid.” She plucked one of my grapes. “Unless you want advice from an old woman who was rather fond of dancing.” Her eyebrows lifted, and the grape disappeared behind wrinkled lips.
“I’m not much of a dancer…as you saw.”
She chewed and swallowed with a humph of disapproval. “If you’re not going to eat, make yourself useful and walk me home.”
Instinctively, I looked for Eileen, who gave me a wave from where she and Tessa were chatting with the owners of the art supply store. She looked so grown up and comfortable in her own skin—in spite of her body’s rapid changes. Even her blonde curls were fuller, shinier. And notably longer. How had I not noticed?
Miss Hester took my plate and plunked it on the table. “Now, would be lovely, child.”
She lived in the walk-up above her flower shop, and I worried over how she managed the steep stairs every day. Climbing seemed to take a lot out of her, but she definitely didn’t want my hand on her elbow.
“I wanted company, not coddling,” she panted at me.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Need my herbals,” she puffed at her door. “Past my bedtime.”
“Can I do anything?” I asked, unsure if I was invited in.
She turned in the doorway and patted my cheek. “No, dear. I’m old enough to put myself to bed.”
Impulsively, I caught her hand between mine. It was knobby and cool and felt too fragile to squeeze.
“The flowers were so beautiful! I know this was Maureen’s thing…but it meant a lot to me. That you cared so much.” Emotion thickened in my throat, and when I released her, she reached up to adjust my hair around my shoulders.
“Madeline was always afraid to dance.” She trailed her gnarled fingers from my hair down the loose ends of the sash, her sharp eyes intent and gleaming in the sepia shadows. “But she wouldn’t want you to be.”
Then she grinned like a Cheshire cat and closed the door in my face.
Back on the sidewalk, I hovered at the edge of the light cast by the street lantern. City nightlife was stirring, with muffled bass beats thumping from the club a block over and the hot weather encouraging friends to linger on the street and couples to amble along the river front. Most of the storefront windows were like dark television screens, but The Urban Nymph’s glowed with the soft faerie lights and the happy energy within.
I didn't want to go back inside. It was better from the sidewalk, watching someone else's favorite show, than having to pretend it was mine.
My daughter moved among people with ease, carrying a fresh plate of food and a confident smile as she rejoined the professor and her husband. And Maureen—my boss, my friend—was delighting Phil and Cara with an animated reenactment of some humorous event that seemed to involve a pair of skis and a cell phone.
Only Adam seemed as disconnected as I felt. His bandaged hand raised his glass as if of its own accord, while he stood at the far end of the front window, looking out into the night. Always so steady, so quietly powerful. He looked as alone as I wanted to be.
Knowing that the night cloaked me, I allowed myself to watch him, worrying as his glass emptied. He wasn’t like those other Adams. I knew he wasn’t. But he could be. If I destroyed him, too.
A cry rumbled up from my stomach and I clenched my teeth—but still felt a wave of energy ripple from my throat. Adam turned my way, and I backed against the building. Bricks snagged my blouse, but I pressed my arms and palms back, trying to focus on their damp, rough texture instead of the electric buzzing filling my ears.
Focus, Lila. Breathe through it.
The hairs on my arms lifted and I dashed across the street to deeper shadows. Adam was distracted now, reaching down to rub his right knee. It ached sometimes, as if mourning its lower half. We all ached. Adam, his leg, and my womb.
Stay! Eileen is here, Lila!
A lamplight went out on the river walk and I ran to the pool of black. Where was a cat when I needed one? A hysterical laugh collided with a sob and I gripped the railing to hold myself upright, to keep from leaping over, to keep from wandering.
“Lila?”
I spun but it was only Sal.
“Are you sick again?” he asked.
“No, I…” The buzzing receded, and I shook my head. No nausea tonight. Thank God for small favors.
Sal’s hands slid up to my face and I pulled free.
“What’re you doing out here?” I demanded. “Following me?”
Silhouetted against the background, his shoulders rose and fell. “I have seen what humans do to each other, in the dark.”
“That’s disturbing.” Nervous laughter made me twitch—but it was only in my head, wasn’t it?
Sal’s dark mass shifted, and I felt the intensity of the gaze I couldn’t see.
“Do you miss them?” I blurted. “Not seeing fractals all the time? I miss my angels.”
I heard Sal’s tongue click behind his perfect teeth.
“Lila, why are you out here? What happened?”
Tell him, Lila. Tell them.
“I-I was worrying about Adam.” My face heated, but I forced myself keep talking. “I felt energy—I really don’t know how else to describe it—build up in my throat and just…leave. And then the buzzing started.”
“Buzzing?”
“Mm-hmm. Like an electric fence.”
Sal looked toward The Urban Nymph, and I turned back to the river. Light from the gibbous moon flowed along its inky currents, and a warm wind teased my hair and sash. Wet slaps against the boardwalk drowned out the city noises, leaving just the wind and Sal’s voice.
“I once thought that fractals were like moonlight on water,” he said. “Each glimmer separate from its originator. All of them, together, a reflection of the truth.”
I wondered if the water was warm like the wind. If it was quiet and still at the bottom. “What truth would that be?”
“The truth. Your souls.” The wind made his voice sound further away, though I could still feel him behind me.
“You don't believe in souls,” I reminded him.
“You need to be whole, Lila. He needs to be whole.”
The breeze carried his words deeper into the night but my skin prickled at his nearness. The moon shattered and merged across the liquid black in a constant rhythmic chaos. Like our angels, Adam’s and mine.
“You don’t know what it’s like!” I cried. “Waking up beside him and being loved—loved like I've never been loved—and also seeing, knowing, that I've destroyed him…wrecked him. I can’t tell him it’s all real!”
As if summoned by my desperation, a single blue angel appeared.
“I don’t want him to know.” I don’t want him to know…me.
“What about what I want?"
Adam?!
I froze, then whirled, but saw no one. Sensed no one. The angel and Sal had both left me in my darkness. I was alone with only the lapping river and a whiff of juniper in the briny, diesel-tainted breeze. But I had heard Adam’s voice as clearly as if he’d been standing behind me.
And that was not a good sign.
Chapter 21, “After” is next…