The two women stood face to face, heart to heart—each a challenge to the other. It didn’t look like there would be a winner until Allison cracked. Sloppy, wet tears dropped from her gorgeous eyelashes. Lisa noticed the tears, she finally recognized that she had, in fact, inflicted terror into Allison. The dread in Allison’s tears almost jumped off her face, and Lisa felt like they would cover her up; she’d drown in this woman’s fear.
Lisa waved Allison in. She should run, run away quickly. There was a pounding in Lisa that she couldn’t ignore. A pound-pound-pound to smoother Allison, rip her chest open, get her to go away. Get everyone to go away. She couldn’t do this anymore than she could pretend happy, pretend productive. She was incapable of it all. Allison, despite her grief, knowing that walking into wherever Lisa stood might mean death, went in anyway. Muttering to herself, she wanted Lisa to understand.
“Your face changed…I felt cold…and itchy…then your eyes…your mouth…your face changed…it changed…” Allison was shaking as violently as Lisa had in The Black. Drool was now falling from Allison’s lips; it was funny to Lisa how quickly gorgeous could turn homely.
“What you want to know, will get you killed. Now leave my apartment.” Lisa wanted to hand her a tissue and shove her out the door with busy work, just as the Mothers did in The Grey, but she’d never bothered to buy food let alone tissue. Allison wasn’t budging. Instead, she sank to the floor and sat watching Lisa’s eyes, mouth, Lisa’s head. Allison was waiting for distortion again. Visual confirmation of what she saw and that she wasn’t crazy. Lisa had no patience for this; all she wanted was gone—gone from this mission, gone from all missions, gone from everything. Lisa wanted out and didn’t know how. Sometimes, she thought she shouldn’t know how. Was there a way to escape the clenches from the Mothers? She had no answers to give Allison.
Putting her face inches from Allison’s again, Lisa’s expiration with this human was noted in her tone. “Leave me alone Sugar Tits, or I swear…I will eat your fucking face.” With that Allison was up and gone. The idea of eating a human’s face was vile. It was not anything Lisa would ever actually consider. Cooked beast was one thing, but raw human seemed disgusting. Lisa was proud of herself for saying it. It was, to Lisa, a made-for-the-movies moment.
It was a game of always second guessing where thoughts and ideas came from. She had zero idea of her true origin; there was a question mark above Lisa’s head, constantly questioning, where did that come from? Why did I do that.
Maybe my elders ate people’s faces… Or maybe she just watched too much TV endlessly sitting on her couch. The hint to over analyze was sparked, but Lisa would ignore it, like she did everything else.
The worry now was, when Allison left, Lisa felt that the fright had passed, and now there was nothing but a calm—or worse yet, a heightened curiosity.
Allison
Back at her apartment, Allison put her daughter to bed with kisses and smiles. Once it was safe, her daughter sleeping and her mother gone, Allison got in the shower and sobbed.
It was the type of sob that came from a broken heart, and strangely enough, that’s what it felt like for Allison. Her heart was paper and felt full of slits. Allison couldn’t understand her heartbreak. What she should have been feeling was frightened.
Nose to nose with Lisa, her eyes seemed to go around her head; her mouth stretched beyond her ears. It was her real face. It was the real story. This should have scared Allison to the bone; instead, it left a sorrow that Allison tried to cry out.
She could see it now; the women her brother and cousin loved were not women at all. They were not human, not alien, both maybe—different, they were different. When Allison was cried out, and the tears could no longer fix what was broken, she got out of the shower, took a couple shots of tequila, and hoped it would numb her enough to sleep. But, it was useless, Lisa’s true face kept walking over her eyes; the vision just wouldn’t go away. Allison went back to her kitchen, grabbed the tequila bottle, and drank straight from it. It was going to take that kind of drunk for sleep to come.
Superior Mother
Superior Mother was lost in a day dream about a small house surrounded by trees where there was a rain so relentless that no one bothered to come over. A little hunk of a place where nobody asked her constant questions, then stopped her mid-answer to ask another question about the first. A little house in the rain, a rain house. Being Superior Mother, was being a Mother to all twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Her ladies needed a firm hand to keep them from becoming the feral little beasts that dwelled in the core of them all. It was thrilling to know that, when presented with the right conditions, these women of The Grey could turn into monsters. But, that was not what their mission was about. The mission was to breed, repopulate their species, and return home—yet here they sat.
Why they sat here on earth was the proverbial lame duck; Superior mother had just concluded on her own. Every Mother brought back a girl, a female. Over and over again female. The male counterpart of their species had gone extinct on their home planet, and they seemed to bring that sterile plague with them. Drop, drop, tink- tink. Superior Mother, through her tormented questions of The Grey, could still hear the rain fall on her imaginary house.
.
Teresa
Standing in the bathroom, Teresa bounced the pregnancy test box from hand to hand. She’d been in there a while, telling herself it was time. She had been having sex effortlessly with different men for a month now. It was time to check, check now, “Now.” No matter how many times Teresa told herself, ‘now’, she kept bouncing the box from one hand to the other.
Teresa had enjoyed some of the sex with strange men, and some she wanted erased from her mind’s eye. With some, she wished she could push them aside like rotten fruit the second it was done. All served only one purpose; Teresa needed a daughter. Now, thought Teresa as she bounced the box from hand to hand over and over. If she was pregnant, there was no father.
James hadn’t come back since that night. The night he finally showed her who he truly was. The night he claimed the throne to his nonexistent kingdom. The thought of James as king to a realm that was nowhere to be found jingled around Teresa’s thoughts, and it had her laughing despite it all—the laughter from the most sullen of women made her feel such a want for James. A longing for his smell, his hair, his walk, anything James. Teresa felt the puppy dog sappy love bullshit that you see on greeting cards and bad sitcoms. It was sickening, this attachment to a human.
Teresa stretched her neck and started to smash the box in her hands. Such a cliché. Teresa was acting like some typical, sitcom, single lady, wishing she had some love story to tell her girlfriends about over drinks or lattes. She knew what she wanted from James. She wanted a country song, where the man came over singing of love, guitar in hand, heart on his sleeve, grabbing her up and kissing her drunk.
Staring at the box, Teresa closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m being a stupid teenage cunt.” Ripping the box open, she took her test, set it on the counter, and laid face down in her bed, wishing she could smother herself.
An hour later, maybe two, Teresa got up and looked at the test. Negative again. No baby girl. Nothing… then, staring at the test and looking in the mirror, it occurred to her that a human pregnancy test couldn’t—shouldn’t—work on her. Was she being completely stupid? Had all her time seducing men been a total waste? The rage Teresa felt could fill the room. The women of The Grey were taught not to waste time. It was an insult to waste time. Teresa hated herself.
Grabbing the bucket under the sink that was full of negative pregnancy tests, Teresa tossed the new one in with the old and decided she’d burn them. She’d burn down the whole apartment complex with them. She’d burn them to the ground for being asshole negative pregnancy tests.
Grabbing some newspaper, Teresa put the bucket in the middle of her kitchen, wadded up the paper, and lit it. Smelling the burnt paper, seeing tiny flicks o
f flame, gave her a rush that can only be described as fulfilling. If she wasn’t brave enough to burn herself to the ground, at least she could destroy that which was defining her at that moment—those negative tests.
Teresa was daydreaming about the sky being on fire—a fire that she started so that all would know her pain—but the flames were puttering, not trying to become a full fire. They were coward flames, not brave enough to be a real inferno—cowardly just like she was. Teresa bent her knee back, ready to kick the bucket of cowardly fire across the kitchen, when she felt a grab and was pulled back.
“Young lady…really what a waste of a perfectly good bucket…tisk honestly…” A Mother was standing next to her with a serene smile on her face, as if Teresa was a child telling silly, non-funny jokes.
The Mother took the bucket and placed it in the sink, poured water on it, peeked into the bucket, and gave Teresa a very worried look. From serenity to concern in seconds, it was almost quaint.
Teresa peeked at the Mother’s name tag: Debbie. Debbie picked up the tests out of the bucket, studied them, and put them back. “Ahhhh Sugar, these wouldn’t work on you. When you’re carrying a future woman of The Grey, you know it. She would have herself be known, believe me. Our baby girls are feisty little things…feisty…” She winked. “I’ve come to check on you in secret…sneaky-sneaky. Just seeing how things are going with you…I’m a regular little spy lady.” Debbie took a three second glance at the bucket. “It doesn’t look like you’ve had any luck.” She took Teresa’s hand and sat her down at the kitchen table.
“Your floor is filthy Sugar Pie.” Debbie toed the kitchen floor and glanced at the kitchen window. “But, we mustn’t talk near windows. Our darling Superior Mother has eyes and ears everywhere…on everything…and everyone…that concerns her women” Teresa had met Debbie before; she remembered the tone of her voice, the quick darting looks from her eyes, but she mostly remembered this Mother had a warmth that the others never could achieve.
This Mother had taught her the alphabet; Teresa was sure of it. This was the Mother that sat her and four other girls down and taught them how to read.
Teresa had so many questions, but felt dim-witted and almost star-struck; no words left her mouth. In The Grey, where Mothers are protruding from every corner, it seemed impossible to find the same one twice in a lifetime.
“How many men, honey…how many?” Debbie grabbed Teresa’s hand tightly and gave her the kind of look that told Teresa that this Mother was trying to read her thoughts. Debbie wanted the truth and would get it.
“Four.” Teresa didn’t know if this was a low number or a high number. She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know what was expected of her. The Mothers taught her the clinical aspect of men, nothing else.
Debbie let go of Teresa’s hand and blew out her mouth. “Damn it…being honest with you, Sweet Cheeks, you should be carrying a baby by now. You should have one about to pop out if I remember your timeline correctly. That’s why I came to do a sneaky peak at ya.”
Debbie sat up straighter in the chair, if such a thing was possible—The Mothers were a not a hair out of place, posture perfection. “We are all the same and none different…you’re different.” Debbie leaned forward and kissed Teresa’s forehead. “Sleep…”
Teresa woke up in her bed, thankful that it was her bed in the apartment, not The Grey. The apartment smelled like citrus. It smelled like oranges and lemons had an orgy on her face while she was sleeping—it was awful. Getting out of bed, Teresa walked into her kitchen. The floor was shiny clean and someone had washed and pressed the kitchen curtains. The Mothers are a weird bunch.
Sitting on her couch, Teresa was really beginning to question her sanity. She either had too much or not enough, and knowing the truth of it would be impossible. A Mother was here. She left a citrus scented trail that any drug dog could follow all the way back to The Grey.
All this happened, but Teresa had a feeling as if everything was upside down and turned left, and there was nothing left to do but what all ex-girlfriends eventually do. Grabbing her cell phone, she called James. Why did this make sense to her? What could be accomplished by James? Nothing. Teresa knew this, but it wasn’t because James could fix anything for her. She, for the first time, needed comfort. She needed the feel of another human holding her, hands in her hair, warmth of human skin, breathing inches from her.
Telling James all lies, mixed with a sprinkle or two of truth, Teresa wove a web in an attempt to get him back.She missed him. She needed to see him. If he could come over, just for a bit. Let’s forget the past. No pressure, just come over and hang out like friends. She really needed a friend right now. Blah, blah, blah. She didn’t speak from the heart; she spoke from every TV show and movie script she’d ever watched. James listened and answered in kind tones that made her feel as if there was a sprinkle or two of endearment in them. He’d come over, no worries, they’d talk.
Much later that night, Teresa listened to James snore in bed next to her. They talked little and kissed much. Teresa savored every kiss like the best dish of her life, never once believing she was capable of tenderness, capable of siding with the human males. Teresa watched James snore, trying her best to brand this image in her brain—soon it would be over. They would come; Debbie would come back with many Mothers. She was different. Different wasn’t better in The Grey; different was dangerous.
Once Debbie reported that Teresa was sterile, the Mothers would come and they would…they would, what? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what or when or where or how or anything. Wrapping her arms around James, Teresa stuck her nose in his neck. James stopped snoring, mumbled something, and fell back into a deep sleep.
With each snore he took, Teresa wished there was a way to tell him goodbye. She wanted a way to tell him she loved him—such complicated little things, those “I love you” words. They seemed almost impossible to utter to James because of who she was. He deserved truth, and he deserved a goodbye. A proper goodbye with a ‘don’t look for me’ attached.
The kind of goodbye, tangled in truth, where he knew not to look for her face in crowds, not to expect to run into her around town. A goodbye that was so permanent, he wouldn’t live out his days wondering where she was, while still understanding that she didn’t want to leave. Where was the movie script for that? The ‘I have to, but I don’t want to’ goodbye.
Teresa didn’t want him staying up at night writing poems about her, singing little songs to himself about her. He needed to cleanse himself of her toxin, and how could he do that if he didn’t know any truth of her?
The realization that her fate was sealed, if she did or didn’t tell James the truth, popped into Teresa’s mind so lightening quick she didn’t have time to second guess her reaction. “James…James…wake up.” Teresa focused herself on him. He opened his sleepy eyes, looked at her true face, and almost fell off the bed, wide-eyed and about to scream.
Teresa grabbed for him. “It’s okay…it’s okay…come here. I just wanted you to see. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I heard rumors back in the Grey; from mothers I was never sure it was real.” Teresa grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her. He should have pulled back; he should have run out the door. Instead, he put her hands on her own face, looked at her through a wrinkled brow, and pointed one eyebrow in the air.
“Never speak of this. Just know that’s my truth. What you saw. So, if the day comes, and I am not part of your life, part of you and an extension of you…it’s because of that…only that… never you.” Teresa sucked in the honesty, something she had never experienced in The Grey—a place so woven in secrecy, none truths, mysterious endless liar chatter.
James breathed heavy in his chest, a breath so hard it seemed painful. “I wasn’t dreaming?”
Teresa kissed his nose, “No.” He didn’t flinch at Teresa’s kiss. “Never mention this. Never seek anymore truth of what you saw. If you do, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will protect you. Those that would hunt you, are
not charmed by inquisitiveness.”
James
James was not always a logical man. He spent his days wrapped up in poetry. If he thought on the stars, he never thought of what made them, but of their beauty, their thoughts. If there was a bump in the night, he knew there was no such thing as ghosts, but still dove deep into the idea of ghosts roaming his halls.
What just happened? What he’d just seen, he knew couldn’t be put to verse. There was no way to look for the truth of it. Logic was nowhere near the neighborhood of what he saw tonight—but neither was anything else. There was no way to build a theory on the flash of fright that had come from Teresa. Regretfully, James had finally figured out Teresa’s mystery. He was searching to map her clues and solve her riddle, but she did it for him. He would have never gotten to her truth, because he could never conceive that this direction as viable.
James shoved everything he wanted for truth aside. It was time for illogical theories to flood his thoughts as he imitated sleep. Illogical, because in this case, logic was better tossed in the toilet.
Such a face was not made by starlight, of this he was sure. Teresa was not from the heavens; alien creatures could not have such sharp little teeth. She was not made by man; no such mutation existed, at least that’s what he thought. James’ thoughts were soup, a mix of this or that, nothing coming together, nothing making sense. It was like trying to piece together vomit. He knew this, but couldn’t let it go.
The big eyes that pulled around her face, the mouth that set almost like a stretched serpent across her jaw. The small teeth, hundreds of them, to devour… what? James seen her eat everything and anything with him, but that wasn’t with her terrorizing real face. Those teeth were sharp and many for a reason. The concept of those reasons made his skin crawl.
Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy Page 33