The Invisibles

by Cecilia Galante

  “We could always steal one,” Ozzie looked at her slyly, laughing as Grace gasped. “I’m kidding, tightwad.”

  They waited as Nora wrote feverishly in her notebook and then held it up for Ozzie to read. “What is it about the road trip that we could give you now?”

  Ozzie sat back and tilted her head up. For a long moment, she looked up into the night, as if studying a specific star. “Freedom,” she said finally. “The feeling of being able to go anywhere at all with nothing to worry about, nowhere to be, no one to answer to but myself.”

  A silence descended on the group. It was a tricky one, for sure. But, Nora decided, she would do everything she could to try to give Ozzie something close to that feeling before the next meeting.

  “All right, now comes the most important part.” Ozzie stood up, turned around, and held her arms up until it looked as though the moon had settled in between them. “We come up here every month during the full moon because this is the time that her powers are at their fullest.”

  “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute.” Grace paused in the middle of rolling up her parchment paper. “Is this gonna be like some voodoo ceremony? ’Cause I’m one hundred percent Catholic. I believe in Jesus and Mary. I’m not into the whole moon- and planet-worship kind of thing.”

  “Mary is a symbol of the moon,” Ozzie said.

  “Mary?” Grace repeated. “As in the Blessed Virgin Mary?”

  Ozzie nodded. “Haven’t you ever seen a picture of her standing on the crescent moon? That’s because the moon and Mary both represent the same thing: purity.”

  Grace’s forehead crinkled as she considered this. “Well, I guess it’ll be okay, then.”

  Ozzie cleared her throat and began again. “The Invisibles choose to hold their meetings under the full moon because she is the strongest female force in the universe. She is our first mother. The one who will never let us down, who will stay with us always and forever.” She grabbed her stick from out of her back pocket, stood up, and faced the moon again. Her hand moved quickly as she traced the air with her stick. “Tonight we ask her to listen to us, to read the wishes we send her for our future, and to answer them someday when the time is right.” Ozzie’s hand moved faster and faster as she traced her wish in the sky; for a moment, Nora thought Ozzie was joking, because her wish was so long. But then Ozzie’s hand grew limp, and when she turned and faced the rest of them, Nora could see the glimmer of perspiration along the line of her nose. Her lower lip trembled and she sat down quickly.

  “Your turn,” she said to Monica. Her voice was low, hoarse, shaken.

  Monica stood up and wrote her wish out for the moon in stick letters. Grace followed, and then Nora, who stood for a full minute under the orb, just staring at the milky glow it cast on the yard below, how the light of it bathed the steeple tip of Saint Augustine’s church in the distance, turning it a silvery blue.

  “It can be anything,” Ozzie whispered behind her. “Anything at all.”

  Nora moved forward then and lifted her arm and began to write.

  She woke with a start as the plane began to descend. Beneath her, she could feel the wheels of it emerging from the belly, its iron legs stretching and creaking like the heavy branches of trees.

  The large woman in purple leaned toward her. “We’re here,” she said. Her breath smelled like salted peanuts. “You slept through the whole thing.”

  Nora breathed a sigh of relief. Past the old man, out the window, she could see land again, a line of trees, and sheets of pavement as they came closer and closer into focus.

  It was time.

  For better or worse, it was time.

  Chapter 5

  Nora!” The voice, soft and slightly hoarse, emerging from the beautiful woman at the top of the ramp was Monica’s, but the face, framed with sharply cut white-blond hair and tight, poreless skin, could not possibly belong to her. “Nora!” Monica rolled up on her tiptoes, waving frantically. “Nora, it’s me! Over here!”

  Nora stared as Monica began to run, her gait steady and pronounced despite four-inch heels, her rail-thin figure accentuating the sharp planes in her face. She was dressed like one of those women Nora had only seen in magazines: a black knee-length skirt secured with a red patent-leather belt, black alligator pumps, and a crisp white blouse. Her legs were gazelle-like, with keyhole-shaped knees and tiny ankles. A silk scarf, smattered with bits of black and red and blue, had been wrapped twice around her neck, the edges dangling in the front, and a handful of thin gold bracelets clattered around her wrist. “Monica?” Nora whispered.

  Monica squealed and grabbed Nora all at once, squeezing so hard that Nora could feel the breath leave her body. “Oh, Nora! I can’t believe it’s you! I can’t believe you’re here!” She exuded an expensive scent: good perfume and exotic shampoo, the kind of things Nora found it silly to spend money on and then, for a split second, wished she didn’t. A man behind them cleared his throat. They were still in the middle of the ramp, blocking the rest of the plane traffic. Monica pulled Nora to the side with one hand, giggling as she grabbed her bag with the other. Her nails, a perfect square shape, had been painted shell-pink, and a gold ring set with a dime-sized blue stone adorned her right hand. “Baby doll!” she said, bending her knees so that she could make eye contact. “Look at you! You look so wonderful!”

  Nora shook her head, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that this was the same Monica who just yesterday, it seemed, had looked like a marshmallowy Pippi Longstocking. Where had the braided orange hair, fleshy frame, and jack-o’-lantern teeth gone? When had she learned how to apply makeup so expertly, the black eyeliner and mascara making her eyes even bluer than Nora remembered? And her nose . . . Nora reached out and touched it with one finger. “Your nose . . .” she said.

  Monica laughed. Her teeth were devoid of the previous spaces, shellacked a shiny white. “I got it done,” she said. “I got that horrible bump shaved all the way down. Do you like it?” She turned to one side and threw her shoulders back. “What do you think? My boyfriend, Liam, says it makes me look at least ten years younger. Do you agree?”

  Nora studied Monica’s new nose again. How could the shape of someone’s nose make them look younger? Then again, maybe she was right. Now that it was smaller, Monica’s face did have a more delicate look to it. Or was it just that there was less of her now? The entire scenario left her anxious and amazed, all at the same time. “You’re so . . . beautiful,” she said. “Holy cow, Monica.”

  Monica laughed again, delighted. “Well, you can buy anything these days. Even looks. You know that.”

  Nora blinked, her anxiety rising again. How much of the Monica she used to know was gone now, replaced by this new, fake veneer? What else about her had undergone such transformation?

  “Ozzie’s flight should be here in about an hour.” Monica slung a brown alligator bag over one shoulder. A large gold buckle gleamed on the front. “I was just on my way to baggage claim when I saw that your flight had landed, so I scooted on over to see if I could catch you.” She squeezed Nora’s arm. “I love your outfit. Especially your sneakers. They’re great. And so practical! I never dress comfortably for flights, and then I always regret it. My feet are killing me.” Her eyes were shining despite the complaint. “Oh my goodness, can you believe we’re all going to be together again? After all this time? You, me, Ozzie, and Grace?”

  “I know.” Nora smiled and nodded.

  Monica tucked a wedge of hair behind an ear as they started walking. “We’re supposed to refer to Grace as Petal now, did you know that?”

  “Yes. Ozzie said something about that.”

  “She’s not even responding to the name Grace anymore, apparently.” Monica’s line-free face darkened. “God. We probably should’ve come a lot earlier.”

  “Well, I didn’t know.” Nora trotted a little to keep up. “I mean, I had no idea about anything that was going on with her. Did you?”

  “I knew she had a miscarriage,” Mon
ica said. “But that was a while ago, a few years after she graduated from art school. She called me one night to tell me about it. She was a wreck. Actually, I think she was drunk. I talked to her for a long time, but I don’t think anything really registered. I called a bunch of times after that, but she never returned my calls. I didn’t even know she’d finally had a baby.”

  Nora felt a pang as she listened to Monica speak. Had Grace called Ozzie too over the years? And if so, why had she been excluded? Why hadn’t Grace called her?

  She followed Monica to the escalator, settling in on the step behind her as the machine made its steady ascent to the second floor. Above them, neon signs advertising coffee and cinnamon buns blinked on and off, and a green Starbucks sign shone like an emerald in the distance. Nora’s stomach growled as she realized that she hadn’t eaten yet.

  “Did you know about the . . .” Nora let her voice drift off, unable to meet Monica’s eyes. “What she did, I mean,” she finished. “Over the summer?”

  Monica stepped off the escalator. She adjusted the brown leather strap over her shoulder and winced before answering. “Ozzie told me when she called. I just . . . I still can’t believe it. Why wouldn’t she have reached out first?” She looked pained, as if her stomach hurt. “To us, I mean. To any of us?”

  “Maybe she didn’t think she could,” Nora said.

  “You really think so?” Monica fiddled with the army of gold bracelets, aligning them just so along her thin wrist. “I know it’s been a long time, but Grace of all people had to have known we would have tried to help. I would have dropped everything. Honest to God, I would’ve. In a heartbeat. Any of us would have.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered,” Nora said.

  Monica’s fingers stopped moving over the bracelets. “Of course it would have mattered.” Nora could hear the hurt in her voice. “It would have mattered a lot.”

  “Maybe.” Nora looked away, feeling as though she’d just been reprimanded.

  “Or maybe you’re right,” Monica said slowly. She reached down and grabbed Nora’s hand. “What do I know anymore?”

  Ozzie was already at the baggage claim, hauling an enormous duffel bag off the conveyor belt as Nora and Monica approached. She was in blue jeans and hiking boots and an oversize sweat shirt with the words MY MOM ROCKS! printed on the front. A thin ponytail stuck out of the back of a Red Sox baseball cap, swinging from side to side like a tail. She’d put on some weight around her midsection, and her face looked fuller too, but there was no mistaking those mile-long legs, the insouciant swing in her hips as she moved.

  “Ozzie!” Monica screamed and darted ahead, arms out straight in front of her. “Ozzie! Ozzie!”

  Ozzie looked up, dropped her duffel bag on the floor, and caught Monica around the waist. She spun her around once and then again. Monica shrieked. Her legs flew out like a propeller, and one of her shoes went spinning across the room. Several people still waiting for their bags looked over and grinned.

  “Where’d you come from?” Monica said breathlessly as Ozzie put her down. “I thought your flight wasn’t getting in until ten twenty!”

  “Who knows?” Ozzie said. “The flight gods were with us. Or maybe we just got a good tailwind.” She held Monica at arm’s length, her eyes roving up and down the length of her. “Damn, you look good. Holy shit, Monica. What the hell did you do?”

  Nora had caught up to them now and stood next to Ozzie’s other arm, waiting.

  Monica giggled. “You mean what didn’t I do?”

  Ozzie noticed Nora then and put her arm around her, enclosing the three of them in a wide hug. “Norster,” she said, pulling her close. “Hi, you.”

  Somewhere nearby, a faint ringing sounded.

  “Oh, my phone!” Monica said, pulling away. “I’m sorry, hold on.” She dug inside her purse, and pulled out a white iPhone with gold interlocking Cs on the back cover. “I have to take this,” she said, stepping off to one side and putting the phone to her ear. “One minute, okay?”

  Nora had not moved. Ozzie’s sweat shirt smelled like a kitchen—macaroni and cheese, beef vegetable soup, maybe even a little bit of baby vomit—and she lingered, as if trying to place it.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Ozzie said, kissing Nora hard on top of her head. “I can’t even tell you how glad I am that you decided to come.”

  Nora ducked her head, moving in an inch or so more. Ozzie’s arm was strong around her, the way it used to be, the way she wished in that moment it had remained—and would always remain—for the rest of her life.

  “How are you, really?” Ozzie stepped back, giving Nora a once-over.

  Nora pulled on her earlobe, feeling her face flush. “I’m good,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” Ozzie grinned, chucking her under the chin. “You look good.”

  “So do you.”

  “I got fat,” Ozzie said. “My husband calls me Chubbers.”

  “He does?”

  “Sometimes.” She laughed. “I’ve probably put on thirty pounds since high school.”

  “It doesn’t show.”

  “It’s all under here.” Ozzie slapped the front of her sweat shirt. “Thank God I still have a decent pair of legs. Otherwise I’d look like a doughnut.”

  Monica came back over and slid an arm through Ozzie’s. Her face had lost some of its previous excitement, as if a lightbulb behind her eyes had been dimmed.

  “Everything all right?” Ozzie asked.

  “Everything’s fine.” She looked over at Nora and smiled brightly. “You ready?”

  Nora nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 6

  Monica’s boyfriend Liam had left one of his cars in the long-term parking lot of the airport the last time he was in Chicago and had told Monica to use it for the trip. It was a dark blue Cadillac Escalade with white leather upholstery and a digital dashboard. So many silver buttons ran the length alongside the CD player that it looked like a keyboard, and the windows were tinted. Nora wondered if she would feel claustrophobic behind the darkness of them, or if the strange-smelling, vacuous space would bring on her nausea.

  “Jesus!” Ozzie said, hopping into the backseat. “Who exactly are you dating again, Monica? Jay-Z?”

  Monica hesitated for a moment on the driver’s side of the car and then got in, settling her alligator bag on the seat next to her. “I already told you his name. Liam Sondquist. Besides, you don’t have to be a rock star to have money these days. Liam’s just doing what at least ten thousand other businessmen in New York City do.”

  “What, selling coke?” Ozzie leaned back against the vanilla upholstery and pretzeled her arms behind her head. Three plum-colored marks, each one the size of a dime, dotted the soft skin just above her left elbow. “No, seriously though. Sondquist. I’ve heard that name somewhere, haven’t I?”

  “Probably.” Monica was staring at the dashboard with a puzzled expression on her face. “He’s pretty well known in New York. He’s one of the top hedge fund managers on Wall Street. He takes home about a quarter million just for his monthly allowance.”

  Nora slid into the front seat next to Monica—and immediately regretted her decision. It was much too wide up here. There was an inordinate amount of room to bounce around in, which would make her stomach go haywire. Maybe she should ask to switch places with Ozzie. She turned around—just in time to hear Monica whisper, “Dammit,” next to her.

  “What’s the matter?” Nora asked.

  “I don’t know where to put the key.” Monica kept her voice low. “There’s three different holes up here. They all look the same.”

  Ozzie’s feet clunked against the floor as she sat up. “Monica. Tell me you still don’t know how to drive. Or that you haven’t gotten your driver’s license after all these years.”

  Monica drew the tip of her index finger along one eyebrow and glanced out her window.

  “Monsie!” Ozzie pressed.
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  “Okay, fine, I still haven’t gotten my driver’s license.” The skin along Monica’s neck turned pink.

  It had been a big joke back then that Monica was the only one of them who would graduate from high school without a driver’s license. Even Nora, who doubted she would ever own a car, had gotten hers in her senior year. For years, Monica had insisted that she had just never felt the need to get it. But Nora knew it was because Monica was afraid to take the driver’s test. Monica was a terrible test taker. She had failed almost every test she had ever taken. The fact that she had graduated from high school with all the rest of them had been something of a gift—or a miracle.

  “For Christ’s sake!” Ozzie looked incredulous. “How do you get around?”

  “I live in Manhattan!” Monica said. “I walk everywhere. And if I have to go any kind of real distance, Liam’s guy takes me.”

  “You mean you get chauffeured,” Ozzie said, grinning. “Gimme the keys, princess.”

  Monica smiled apologetically and tossed the keys over her shoulder. Ozzie caught them with one hand and then crawled over the seat. Her hiking boots clunked against the ceiling, dislodging bits of dried mud onto the seat.

  “Ozzie!” Monica half laughed, half scolded as she pushed her way out of the driver’s door. “God, we’re not kids anymore. You’re a mother now! Use the door!”

  “You think I don’t crawl around like this at home?” Ozzie asked. “Please. I’m on my hands and knees every day, picking up baby shit or crayons or something. I’m an expert.”

  The ease with which Ozzie fell into conversation with them filled Nora with a warm, sleepy feeling. The first time she’d ever remembered having that feeling was when she’d stayed late after school to make up a test. Afterward, she had come back to Turning Winds and found the three of them in the kitchen. Ozzie was sitting on the table, her feet resting on one of the chairs, fiddling with a Rubik’s cube. Grace was balanced on the edge of the counter, picking at the edges of a pan of lasagna, and Monica was standing in front of the refrigerator, her free arm resting on the open door. They were laughing at something Nora had come in too late to hear. But she stood there anyway, listening to the music of their voices rising and then settling in the way she had come to know so well, and she had felt a swell of emotion that she could not name. Later in bed, she realized that it had been something as close to home as she had ever felt. Now, listening to Ozzie, she felt a glimmer of that feeling again.