by B. B. Palomo
Each breath grew more difficult to breathe in.
I was dying, slowly.
I wanted to call out to my parents. They’d save me. They could take me home. Make me soup, and then I’d be all better, right? I needed to get home, then everything would be all right.
Then it hit me.
Dad was here. He’d been with me, but the space to my right was bodiless. I tried to focus, searching for his breathing, or maybe his footsteps coming around to pull me out, but the only thing registering was silence and pain.
I started to cry. Or at least I think I did. It was hard to tell as ice filled my veins and numbed my body. If this was the end, couldn’t I at least know if my dad was safe? Wasn’t that the least I deserved as my life came to a youthful end?
“You can’t have her,” I heard finally, Dad’s voice muffled but stern. “That wasn’t the deal!”
I immediately regretted my request. He was watching me die.
“Take me instead,” he pleaded and, after a pause, spoke again as if he was responding to someone. “I’ll do anything, anything else!”
He shuffled his feet in the dirt like he was blocking someone. Was someone here trying to help us? Maybe he knew I couldn’t be moved, that it was too late.
“I said no,” he roared suddenly.
The truck shook like an earthquake, the crushed metal groaning in protest. My dad cried out, and it sparked my muscles to move. Someone was hurting him, and he needed my help.
I reached for the seat belt, feeling along the nylon to find my way down to the buckle. I clicked the red button with all the strength I had left. It retracted and sent my body crashing down into the ceiling of the truck. The window must have been smashed as we rolled because the warm night air greeted me as I forced my eyes open and reached for the barely visible grass.
Thump.
The echo of my dad’s limp body crashing to the ground stopped me mid crawl. I peered forward just as the moon broke through the trees, highlighting his frozen face. His lifeless eyes met mine as I cried out for him, the voice I didn’t have before finally breaking through.
I reached forward as if he’d wake up and grab my hand, pulling me to safety, but he never moved. The light began to fade as my sight tunneled, focusing on his face. A final thought crossed my mind as my eyes closed for the last time.
Death must be peaceful because Dad looks like he’s smiling.
The deafening clash of porcelain dishes sliced into the dream, its pieces shattering and scattering from reach. I rubbed cold hands into my face roughly, trying to pull myself back into the present and away from contextless fear gripping me.
It was just a dream.
Those words were weapons. Yes, it was a dream, and it scared me, but Dad being gone—well, that was reality. There would never be a day I’d wake up and he’d be back.
Everything in my room was suddenly too bright, too close, and too far all at the same time. I turned my head on the pillow, my skin sinking into the damp cotton from a night of sweating. My eyes landed on my door, which was slightly cracked even though I was positive I’d shut it tight the night before.
Mom must have opened it to make sure I could hear the borderline illegal racquet she was making in the kitchen.
I pressed my eyes shut one last time and breathed in deep before expelling the breath and the negative energy that clung to me after my nightmare. It wouldn’t do my mom or me any good if I lashed out because of something as dumb as a dream. With a final push, I swung my legs over the bed and wobbled out of my room with sleep still floating in my eyes.
The linoleum was ice against my bare feet as I turned the corner to see my mom. She was frying eggs on an old hotplate, plugged in and set on the counter, and hummed words to a song I’d never heard. Even with her back turned to me, I could see she was in a great mood. It made sense. Nights of not sleeping were already eating away at me, so I’m sure she relished in the few hours she got last night without the memory that my dad should have been there beside her.
She was dressed comfortably, much unlike her work getup. Mom chose a regular fitting tee and some light blue jeans. Her tennis shoes had already been laced up, and unruly hair pulled back with an elastic. Each of her fingers had a ring encircling it. Two were mood gems, shaped into an oval and a plumeria, which changed colors regularly. Another had a unique blend of purple and green herbs for protection, cased in a gel. The jewelry clinked together as she cooked, but other than that, she looked almost…ordinary.
“You’re up early.” The comment sounded more like an accusation than a simple observation. My classes tended to be around nine or ten in the morning, so seeing me at six o’clock was a shock for both of us.
“You’re up early,” I countered with her words, squinting my eyes at her back to try and figure out how she’d seen me coming.
My head started pounding as I neared her like my brain had been rocked back and forth all night in my skull. I checked my exposed shoulders, searching for the indentions of someone’s fingertip embedded there, confirming I’d been shaken, but of course, there were none. Still, the light that blew through the window further instigated that sharp throbbing behind my eyes and sent my stomach into a whirlwind, forcing me to swallow hard to keep anything from coming up. I reached up, placing my hand across my eyes gingerly, willing the pain to go away.
Maybe I am getting sick?
It made sense. There had been a series of storms rolling through, and I’d not protected myself against the new chill coating the air. Even now, all I wore was a camisole and shorts, bearing the cold as if I was an outdoor adventurer with no access to additional supplies. I reached for both elbows, pulling my arms in close to warm myself up with little progress. Mom caught my movements and pointed a food-covered spatula to the throw blanket draped over the chair. I gladly took it, wrapping it around my body tightly before sitting on a stool by the counter.
“I have news!” She sang as soon as I was settled, still rocking her hips to the tune she now only sang in her head. “Your grandparents have invited us to stay the weekend.”
I reached for the buttered bread, breaking off the crusted corner and plopping it into my mouth. “No way!” I tried to sound excited, not wanting to take the thrill from her.
It didn’t work because she froze mid-stir and looked at me, reading the impossible to conceal look that ran across my face.
“You don’t want to go?” she asked before I had time to find an excuse out of it.
I choked on the rye when my mouth grew dry and the bread lodged into my throat. I reached for a cup and drank greedily from it, the water dripping down the sides on my chin. After I was done, my mom shot me an annoyed look when I drew out the ahhh with my breath. I shrugged her way like I didn’t know what I did.
“Not even a little,” I admitted. “I’m surprised you do. The last time I saw them, I was five.”
“They seemed excited.” She pouted.
“I don’t care how excited they were, they have never been a part of our lives, and I don’t plan to let them start now. Anyway, it’s probably just guilt because Dad died,” I said.
She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, cutting off her argument. The slight glisten to her eyes told me my whole goal of not ruining her mood with mine failed miserably. I knew I should suck it up and go, but I couldn’t bring myself to. These people meant nothing to me. They hadn’t even called when Dad died and instead held their own service and made sure it was known we were not invited to it.
“That’s okay,” she said with a fake smile. “I’ll just be gone until tomorrow, so you don’t need to come, but”—she went back to cooking to avoid my eyes—“next time, you should try. Dad would want you to forgive them.”
“When are you leaving?” I said curtly, not believing that was true. A quick glance at the clock as it crept closer to seven stirred my anxiety.
“Soon, but you shouldn’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she said, understanding my discomfort before I needed to ve
rbalize it.
I let out a heavy breath, not realizing how long I’d been holding it as relief swept through my body in a silent wave. It was only a little under a five-hour drive through the beautiful colors of fall, but long distances didn’t sit well with me ever since Dad. Any length of travel, really. I’d long opted out of driving in favor of walking or being chauffeured around by Noah. Another reason I’d probably never leave this little town. I learned quickly that you can’t get far on just your two feet alone.
“You said Cora is back from vacation early, right? You should invite her and Adira over, have a girls’ night instead.” She offered, sliding some eggs onto a plate and placing it in front of me. I pressed a fork into the soft scramble, taking a quick bite, and immediately regretted it as salt burned my tongue. I slid the plate forward when she was busy turning the hot plate off. It was just enough to keep it away, but not enough for her to be offended. Dad was the cook of the family, but I appreciated her trying.
“Yeah, I’ll probably have Noah over, too. There is no way we could all comfortably fit on his one sofa,” I responded and reached for the cup of coffee she had made herself, taking a sip of the sugared caffeine and placing it back before she turned to notice my thievery.
“Wouldn’t it be better with just—you know, with just the girls?” she asked, pretending to stir the already cooked eggs to avoid eye contact.
I pressed on, knowing what was making her uncomfortable, but still playing dumb. It didn’t matter that we’d been through so much the past year or that I was nineteen now. She was still my mom and very much had the mentality of one.
“They’re friends with him, too.”
“Willow—” she sighed, giving in and turning to face me—“it’s just, he’s, you know—a boy.”
“Uh-huh?” I antagonized.
“And well, I just don’t like the idea of your boyfriend staying the night.” She finished in a rush, exasperated from being forced to be honest.
“Mom,” I eyed her. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She turned her back to me, but not before I could catch the tint to her cheeks. “Or allow that…stuff in my house.”
“Mom!” I choked on the egg I had tried to give a second chance, sputtering the pieces out onto the counter in an attempt to clear my air passage. I pounded a heavy fist into the center of my chest for dramatic effect—and to buy a few more moments of avoiding having to talk to her about sex.
“Don’t pretend like I don’t know what goes on when you spend the night at his apartment,” she said, the admission setting my face aflame in return.
Her eyes bore into mine with a sudden motherly confidence that pinned me to my chair. We froze in a standoff, waiting for the other to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence. I wasn’t sure why I thought as soon as I became a legal adult, I had all but avoided these conversations with my parents. It had been a fear that was long tucked away with the first relationship advice talks and how to make friends conversations.
I wasn’t comfortable discussing it any more than we already had. I mean, of course, I wasn’t a virgin. In all honesty, I hadn’t been for a while, but I’d rather feed myself to a shark than have to say that to her out loud. She seemed to take my silence as a confirmation that Noah wouldn’t be coming over, and I was okay with her thinking that if it kept her sane, but I had no intentions of that actually being the case.
I didn’t want to disrespect her house, but I also didn’t want to be honest and have to dive into why I was still here. Noah and I had talked about me moving in multiple times, but it always ended in me declining so I could stay here with her. I wanted to make sure she would be okay, and right now just didn’t seem like the right time to abandon her. I knew it would have to happen someday, just not today. Or tomorrow, but soon.
I’d definitely have the conversation with her soon.
Luckily, the rest of breakfast was birds and bees talk free. I helped her clean up and pack a bag to load into the car. I made her promise to check in every time she stopped and as soon as she got there. She readily agreed and was on her way with a final wave through the window. When I got back into the house, it wasn’t as empty as it normally felt when everyone was gone. The air was heavy, pressing into my body as if the weight of the world was threatening to crush me if I took one misstep. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder, feeling like someone was there waiting for me to notice them, so out of caution, I double-checked the locks and windows, making sure no one could get in.
It probably wasn’t necessary. I doubted anyone would dare to break in from pure fear of their made-up repercussions. It was possibly the only nice thing about having people afraid of you and your family. Aside from the rumors and rare, brave souls like Timmy, people pretty much left you alone. No one would risk being turned into our next stew or spell by breaking and entering.
I did my best to put the feeling from my mind and go about my day, but it continued to linger around me, taunting like a stalker from the darkness, always watching but not ready to make himself known. The sensation was everywhere, and the more my day went on, the harder it was to concentrate on anything other than the constant fight or flight hormone running through my veins.
My phone chimed as soon as I sent out a text in our group chat about having a movie night. Noah would be late because of work but wouldn’t miss it. While Adira was already planning the snacks and which movies she’d bring as long as Noah promised to shower and not stink up the joint.
I smiled every time the soft tune went off as they fought back and forth, with Noah definitely on the losing end. As much as I loved him, he could get awfully smelly after a day of digging ditches and leveling the ground.
Cora never responded, so I reached out to her separately, assuming she just hadn’t reached civilization yet.
I busied myself with tidying up the house and finishing some very late assignments. I didn’t need to get more behind than I already was, but I skipped any studying for History, still not confident what I was going to do with that class. There was a good chance it wouldn’t matter. The whole event would be spread around the school by the time Monday rolled around and having to go back to school in general, let alone that class, was stressing me out more than I wanted to admit.
Before I’d started my tasks, I popped two Tylenol that were still not working. I tried two more, but even after thirty minutes, my head continued to pulsate with a pain that seemed like it may last forever.
I left the house to take the trash out and was greeted with an incoming storm’s humid breeze. Thick clouds were rolling in from the east, building vitality as they traveled. They still appeared to be miles away, but you could easily make out the bright strikes of lightning zipping through them and where the rain fell heaviest. Luckily Mom had texted me that she arrived a little earlier, so I wasn’t worried that she was passing through a similar storm while still on the road.
It didn’t take long before the declining weather had made it over the roof of my house and unleashed its fury. Fat droplets of water crashed against our old windows loud enough that I checked to make sure it wasn’t hailing. The daylight faded quicker than expected as the sun was blocked from shining. Now only quick flashes of electric white rushing across the sky lit the ground in calculated intervals. The storm brought warmth that spread through the house, shutting out the chill from earlier, and I hoped we didn’t hear any warning sirens as the two climates impacted.
I rushed to the front of the house at the frantic sound of the doorbell ringing, echoing off the walls around me. Yanking the door open revealed both Cora and Adira, drenched from the downpour, neither of them with the forethought to bring an umbrella. Greetings weren’t in order, and they rushed past me to get inside and out of the rain. I stifled a laugh as I shut the door, careful to avoid the wet shoe prints on the ground.
“The weather channel said it would be sunny all day,” Adira complained, carefully pulling the hair that had
started to cling to her skin to not disrupt her makeup. It wouldn’t have mattered. Even without the thick foundation she wore, her complexion was flawless.
“I don’t trust those reports,” Cora chimed in and moved so Adira could drop soggy bags from the local grocery store onto the counter, the Kraft paper barely able to continue to hold the contents inside. “They’re rarely accurate, plus, it’s the season.”
“You look like shit, Willow,” Adira said as I grabbed paper towels for the floor.
“Oh geez, thanks.” I rolled my eyes and wiped up their mess. Cora’s smaller trail had been gobbled up by Adira’s larger print, which now was the only one that could be seen.
“No, seriously. Are you coming down with something? You look like you haven’t slept in ages.” She sounded concerned, but I brushed it off, not feeling particularly bad but still fighting the pain in my skull.
“I’ve just had a killer headache, but it’s going away now,” I lied. “I can throw on some makeup if you’re not gonna be able to tell me apart from the monsters in the movies you picked, if you want.”
“Oh, whatever.” She guffawed with Cora, and I quickly joined in, the uneasy feeling that had followed me all day seeming to dissipate with our laughter.
Adira pulled the chips and popcorn from the bags while I searched the top cabinets for plastic bowls to put them in, the arches of my feet burning as they stretched. Adira must have won a quick draw of rock-paper-scissors while my back was turned because she picked out a movie that made Cora’s face go green.
She was a sucker for the classics. I wasn’t surprised when she chose the Exorcist, eagerly rushing to the living room to shove the film in our dusty DVD player. She entered the kitchen with an excitement that seemed misplaced for something she’d seen more than a hundred times.