by B. B. Palomo
“I’m so sorry about this,” Mom apologized on my behalf as if we’d done something wrong before pressing the Kleenex into my nose.
“O-oh,” the lady gulped, holding the small clutch she carried to her chest like armor. “That’s no problem at all.”
“Who’s that?” I asked, eyes not leaving the man who now stood uncomfortably close to her. Animosity sharpened his already mean characteristics.
Her client followed my line of vision, looking behind her as Mom scolded me for not remembering who Ms. Leonard was, even when she knew there was no way I would. I expected Ms. Leonard to call the gentleman by name when Mom didn’t introduce him, but it was like she couldn’t see the person who clearly stood right beside her.
“I’m”—she cleared her throat and backed away as Mom approached her—“I’m just gonna leave this check here.”
“Oh, sure—”
She rushed out. I gasped when her body went through the man who’d just been loitering there. He disappeared as if he was no more than smoke someone had waved away with their hand. Mom mistook the sound and turned back, probably expecting the bleeding had resumed.
“What?” She searched me over. “What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t see.” I shook my head. There was no way I could ask that. I’d sound crazy. Hell, maybe I was. I felt for my scar one more time, wondering if it was just a side effect of the crash. “Nothing,” I said finally. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”
By the time I returned to my makeshift study corner, the mess I’d left was cleaned up. Mom was back in her office, clearing up the items she’d pulled out for the reading, so I took the opportunity to try to finish my assignment.
One of the nurses, while I was in the hospital, played meditation music for me. At first, it was infuriating. There were no lyrics, and it just reminded me of the monotonous music on elevators. After a few days, she was off work, and I realized how much I missed the chimes and bells that circled my head, disrupting the thoughts threatening to drown me.
I opened a new tab on the internet browser, finding a free music streaming site and waited through the ads until I could finally hear the sounds of a jungle I’d never actually visit. Plugging in my earphones, so I didn’t disturb Mom, I turned the volume up and pulled my assignment open again. The cursor flashed on the page, and words became more difficult to find.
That man. The way his chest rose and fell, the slight twitch in his lips when Ms. Leonard stood next to him, it all looked so real. Sure, he didn’t actually touch me, and clearly, no one else noticed him, but could my imagination really conjure up something so realistic?
I opened another tab.
I tried to spell schizophrenia three times before Google finally corrected me. Articles about delusions, traumatic experiences, and even ways to live with the illness populated, but I couldn’t bring myself to click on them. There had to be a better explanation. Sleep was hard to come by. Maybe the most straightforward reason was more accurate than my sudden paranoia that I’d slowly start going insane.
I never heard the soft schhh sound of the beads brushing against each other. When my mom placed a delicate hand on top of my shoulder, I startled, jerking back into my chair as if I had convinced myself I was home alone this whole time. Smoothly as I could, I turned the laptop away and closed the tab so she couldn’t see what I was researching.
I pulled one of the earbuds out and let the long white cord dangle, lowering the music slightly but not turning it off completely. My heartbeat struggled to settle in my chest as I turned toward her. Wrinkles had started to form at the corners of her eyes and lips, now showing well before she ever smiled or squinted, but that was nothing compared to the worried divots in her chin as she pressed her lips together tightly. Clutched in her fist was the check and a few dollars, likely left as a tip—the paper crinkling in the middle at the unforgiving squeeze.
“Focused?” she asked me at my jump.
“More like zoned out,” I only half lied.
“Are you feeling okay?” She reached for my forehead, her touch light as she checked the temperature of my skin.
“It was just a nosebleed.” I shooed her hand away, smiling when she scowled.
“It was pretty bad,” she said.
“How’d it go?” I changed the subject. “Before me, of course.”
“Just fine,” she said. “I think she is more at ease now. It seemed like a weight had been lifted when she left.”
“You mean added?” I raised a brow. “Because she definitely did not seem at ease.”
“I think she was just overwhelmed.” She pointed back to the garbage of overflowing red tissues.
“Guess I can’t blame her then,” I taunted. It wouldn’t matter if it was Mom or me. She’d find something to gossip with her friends about.
“I like making people happy, Willow.”
“Is that happiness going to change the looks you get every time you go into town?” My voice was laced with more vexation than I had intended. I worked to relax my features, not wanting to stress her out with my moodiness.
“Between you and me”—she shot glances around the house as if we weren’t the only two people who lived there—“I prefer the people of this town not liking me. It’s better than getting caught up in the drama for lack of better entertainment.”
I appreciated that she pretended to not mind, but I knew it wasn’t that simple.
“Yet you still help them?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She gave me a small smile. “I think it’s more for me than anyone else. Listen, I need to run into town and deposit this so we can pay for the lights. Are you going to be fine here alone?” She asked as if I was still a pre-teen. I nodded, omitting the fact that I had just turned nineteen and was not a baby anymore. Something about the statement made me feel more childlike than her obsessing over my ability to be alone.
“Yeah, go, I’ll be good,” I assured her, smiling, and turned back to my screen. She plopped a wet kiss to my temple and was off.
I waited for the slight rattle of the windows to be sure she had shut the front door before releasing the sigh lodged painfully in my chest. Nothing and everything had changed at the same time. After the accident, Mom went on, as usual, only crying at night when she thought I was sleeping and me—well, I was just…here. Existing, but not living. I practiced putting on a face for everyone around me and swallowed the pain until it reached the most bottomless pit of my stomach, making me sick but allowing my smile to appear genuine to the untrained eye.
I snaked a hand forward and slammed the lid to my computer shut, closing my eyes tight and shaking my head when I realized that if I broke this computer, I would be shit-outta-luck for the school year and forced to use the library’s desktops. The light to my hand-me-down cell phone, thankfully passed down by my best friend Adira when she got her upgrade, lit up the screen, followed quickly by a ping.
Have you eaten? The message ran across the top of my phone as a quick preview before disappearing, but the name I read made my heart do little pitter-patters in my chest, my woes quickly forgotten.
Noah.
He was my exact opposite. Noah wasn’t overly sporty and had a love for anime I never could quite understand. Where I struggled to draw stick figures, he was magnificent with charcoal on a canvas. His ability to paint amazed me each time he finished a piece of art. He was perfect for me—sweet, smart, and most important of all, understanding. I didn’t need to utter a word before he would seem to pick up all of the emotions I was trying to find a place for. It didn’t matter what my name was or who my family was. The whispers from the people around us didn’t impact how he felt about me or who he knew I truly was.
No. I typed back, following it up with a bashful emoji, knowing where this was going.
I’ll be there in ten.
I leaned back into my chair, smiling, but just as the joy had spread across my face, the phone pinged again, sending the corners of my mouth sinking back down. My mom’s name
was the next to run across the screen.
Make plans for tomorrow. I’ll need the house, big job!
My eyes rolled toward the window, where the sun was slowing, sneaking away under the horizon, casting salmon colors across the dying grass. I’d been asked to water it but forgot about twenty seconds after agreeing. I didn’t know what she meant by a big job. I mean, how big can fortune-telling really be? I started to worry, curious about what she’d gotten herself into when a bill from the top of the pile slid down, and I saw the significant, red past due stamped on the front but stopped myself. It wouldn’t help me to stress out now.
Instead, I let myself get lost in the sunset as I waited for the rumble of Noah’s truck to pull into the driveway, pretending, if only for a moment, that I was off to wherever the sun was running to as well.
Chapter Two
Forty-five minutes into the fine print of my textbook on the fundamentals of geology, the shrill creak of Styrofoam broke me from the trance that had my eyes burning crimson. Warm spices of Thai food tickled my nostrils and sent my stomach into a roaring mess. The obnoxious grumble had me checking on the other patrons in the library studying, worried it would have gotten their attention.
There was no reason to be this hungry. Noah had spoiled me last night, driving across town to a small hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant where I ordered more than my fair share of food. I’d almost had to unbutton my pants when the waitress asked if we needed another basket of chips before leaving.
It wasn’t my intention. After seeing someone who didn’t exist, I was struggling with the next best step to take. By the time I had settled on chopping it up to a one-time dilemma, Noah was watching me like I’d bit his finger when he reached for the salsa. When I finally realized I’d almost eaten the restaurant out of business, my stomach stretched far enough to burst.
Yet, here I was.
Frothing at the mouth as the steam seeped from the middle of the to-go plate and beckoned me forward. I barely recognized the person who sat across from me at the long, rectangular table I scored farthest from the other students. My vision locked on the food offering being pushed toward me, and I had to remind myself of basic manners.
Noah’s habitually lazy smile tugged up at fierce, cobalt blue eyes outlined by thick dark lashes I would kill to have. His midnight hair was a tousled mess at the top of his head, begging to be tamed. He usually kept it short, but a few weeks of skipping the barber had it leaping in different directions like it had a mind of its own—and I had to admit I was more than loving it. He wore dark jeans and a plain white shirt that was only wrinkle-free because I had folded it before leaving his apartment the night before. He rested an indolent head against his fist, placing his elbow on the table to keep it up.
“You skipped lunch, again.” His smooth voice circled me, exciting me in a way only he could. Considering my love of food, it was rare, but not as rare as me managing to get anything above a C in class as of late.
“I’m gonna fail this class,” I said, ignoring his comment and pretending like my mind wasn’t jumping from the food to getting out of here with him. The way he lowered his gaze when I looked back at him said he saw right through me and the blush that never knew how to stay hidden under my skin.
I tried my best to peel open the takeout container without alerting the librarian. Taking my mind out of the gutter and back to the stomach gurgle loud enough to alert the next town over was no easy feat.
Noah reached for my textbook and pulled it in close. The curiosity in his eyes dulled as they scanned through the dry text on the page. Failing a class about rocks wasn’t encouraging, but seeing how quickly the subject put Noah to sleep, oddly gave me a little relief. My last opportunity to get my grade up was a dissertation, and so far, all I had was my name.
“I failed it, too. Don’t worry, just choose a new one or drop it.” A silvery voice snuck up behind me right as I’d managed to wrap a soft noodle around the inconvenient spork supplied with my meal.
I cocked my head over my shoulder to see Adira. She stood with a stable hand on her hip, taking a quick glance at her immaculate polish before coming closer. Positioned behind her like a shadow was our friend, Cora. She clutched her backpack and watched for the same librarian I’d been hiding from, knowing she was sure to bust us as soon as she discovered we were all together. A motley crew to the outside eye, we all had something the other needed, and it bonded us tighter than woven rope.
Adira sat next to Noah, her smooth caramel skin a few shades darker than his newly tanned body. Working out in the sun had given him a bronze I could only dream of achieving. Her long jet-black hair had been pulled into a high ponytail, the lowlights of the library bouncing off the glossy strands. Today she’d smudged charcoal from her eyes’ inner corner and drew it out to resemble a popular long-winged look. Coffee-colored eyes twinkled as I struggled with my food.
“I can’t afford to fail this class, though,” I spoke to the noodle I’d managed to get into the proximity of my mouth. Saliva accumulated at the corners of my lips, forcing me to gulp before I took my bite. The noodle received a stern warning with my eyes, daring it to slip off the spork before I could enjoy the spicy yumminess I was imagining.
“Plus,” Cora’s small voice interjected. “She would have a mark on her transcript. It’s too late to drop the course.” She pushed at round glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose slightly, bringing them back centered to wide, hazel eyes.
Cora’s blond hair was cut just above her shoulders, but it appeared shorter as her natural curls ringleted up. Her fair skin was forever tinged pink, though slightly darker from her trip to Cancun with her family. She’d recently taken to wearing sunscreen, but if it helped, we couldn’t tell. Even the thin ring she wore was outlined in red, the hollow star matching the sunburn.
Adira and I had rings too. I thumbed the moon centered on mine, knowing Adira’s sun version was hanging by a chain around her neck. Cora had gifted them to us when we all graduated eighth grade. It was the first present I’d ever received from a friend, and since then I’ve cherished it.
Cora sat next to me delicately, her movements almost unrecognizable compared to the attention both Adira and Noah demanded.
“Is this an intervention or something?” I asked, my mouth full of food. It earned me an approving wink from Noah and an eye roll from Adira.
“No, but it should be,” Adira admitted. I looked over my spork at Noah, and he gave a casual shrug, so I set my utensil back down. If they both were being serious, I needed to listen.
“You’re working too hard. Plus…” She took the book from Noah and closed it with a slap.
“Hey—”
“We were worried about you.”
“Why?” I asked, my lost page quickly forgotten.
“Well,” Adira started. “You came here instead of the café.”
“And you were a little irritable last night at dinner,” Noah added.
“Oh, and don’t forget that you were muttering to yourself on our walk to English and when I asked, you refused to elaborate.” Cora iced the metaphorical cake.
“So this is an intervention.” I raised an eyebrow.
They were right, though. The funk I’d been in was about more than the strange man. It concerned my mom’s text. I sighed and sat back in my chair, pushing the food forward, much to my hunger’s dismay. Little pin needles were prodding behind my eyes, so I closed them to the sensation and pinched the bridge of my nose to draw my focus out and away from the pain. The negative energy in my chest seeped down my legs until my foot tapped uncontrollably.
My initial plan was to just ignore her text. I didn’t need to know what the job was or why she was more insistent than usual that I stay away while she worked. However, when I got back home last night, she’d stayed up late to remind me once again, and that piqued my curiosity. When I asked, she turned cold and indifferent, explaining to me that it was nothing unusual.
I didn’t buy it.
&n
bsp; Nervousness shot through her fingers, their twitching drawing my gaze. Mom tried to pass it off by scratching her arms, but once I pulled the chair out to sit in front of her, she knew I wasn’t going to take anything but the truth. She swore it was nothing major, but it would involve something even Grammy said never to use.
“Well?” Noah squeezed my elbow lightly between his thumb and forefingers. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted with a groan. “When my mom was in town, some guy on a business trip had heard the rumors about the crazy fortune-teller lady.” Cora’s face pinched, but I continued. “He had a group of people staying at the local inn, and they think it would be fun for my mom to host an event for them. They’re paying a pretty penny, so Mom will bring in an Ouija board.”
“Why would they want something like that?” Cora shrieked.
“Like a seance?” Adira perked up, and I shot her a look that said nothing about it was remotely exciting to me.
“I don’t know. We don’t even have one, so Mom is driving into the city to visit her witchcraft shop to find one that fits the look.” I shrugged.
Cora looked petrified. Adira still looked like she wanted to come over and watch the whole thing go down while Noah was sneaking bites of my lunch, thinking that I wasn’t looking.
“Hey! That’s mine!” I gave him my best glare and pulled the to-go plate back toward me like I was Gollum, and the food was my precious. Noah stuck out his tongue and moved back into his seat to sulk.
“Shhhhhhhhhh!” The harsh shush came from the front desk, so I lowered my voice.
“Something about them just gives me the heebie-jeebies.” A slight shudder rippled through my body. “Plus, Grammy was never a fan. She explicitly said to never use one under any circumstances.”
“And the voodoo dolls don’t?” Adira asked, wide-eyed.
“I mean,” I argued. “Those are just for show. It’s different. My mom doesn’t believe in half the stuff Grammy says. Honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s why she’s always sending me away while she works. Like she thinks me being around is going to influence me or something. Probably worried I’ll pick up the family business now that she’s doing it too. As if I’d want to.”