The Moth Diaries

by Rachel Klein

  I could hear them banging on Ernessa’s door. She would come to the doorway in a long white nightgown that completely covered her arms and legs and came up to her chin. She would open the door slowly, pretending she had only just woken up. Her room would be empty of dust and the sound of wings like breath.

  “You’re certain you didn’t hear a thing? One of your classmates had an accident directly below your window. A fall.”

  “I’m a very deep sleeper,” she would say. “Nothing ever disturbs me once I’ve fallen asleep. I sleep like a dead person. Why don’t you ask some of the other girls?” Her voice would be flat. She would ask the policemen to leave her alone. It would sound like a command.

  I opened my door and saw the nurse taking Lucy and Sofia away. They were crying. Their shoulders shook as they walked down the corridor. I stood by, watching them. Everything is worse in the middle of the night, especially when you’ve been snatched out of a deep sleep. You don’t know where you are or where your dreams end and the world begins.

  Dora fell from the roof gutter outside Ernessa’s window. No one heard her fall, but the cook saw her body in the courtyard at four when she came to start breakfast. She was lying on the pavement, her arms flung wide, her head twisted behind her shoulder. The wind ruffled her nightgown, which was bunched up around her middle. Her white legs were still. She looked dead.

  I could have stopped her from doing such a stupid thing. I could have told her what she would see so that she wouldn’t need to see it for herself. I could have told her that not believing in something doesn’t protect you from it. I could have told her about the moths swarming out of the dust and moonlight and how they flit around in my head.

  I stayed in my room.

  She never was my friend.

  Vacation starts tomorrow.

  I’m going to lie down on my bed and try to rest. It’s painful to keep my eyes open, but where will I be when I close them?

  Ten A.M.

  At assembly, Miss Rood told us that Dora was dead. That made it official. The day students knew that something was wrong because all the boarders were sitting there with red eyes. Everybody started to cry again when Miss Rood spoke. I knew she was dead, but when Miss Rood said the words, my face got really hot, and I began to shake all over, inside and out. My body knows, but my head doesn’t understand yet. I’m enclosed in a huge bubble. My arms and legs feel so heavy. I can barely lift them. Everything I do is on the verge of not happening. I’m waiting for the bubble to burst, to let me back into the world again. But it doesn’t happen that way. It’s like waiting for novocaine to wear off. Suddenly you realize that you’re no longer numb.

  Miss Rood kept repeating that it was a “terrible, unfortunate accident,” like some kind of prayer. She was “shocked and dismayed” to discover that some of the girls had been walking along the roof gutters of the Residence. Then she asked us to talk to her if we saw or heard anything out of the ordinary last night. I’m not going to say a word about this. I’m scared of what Ernessa will do. I don’t trust anyone.

  No classes for us this morning. Miss Brody, the psychologist, is going to talk to the boarders later on. What can she possibly say? “Now, girls, I understand you’ve had a traumatic experience, but the healing process must begin. …” She can’t pop my bubble. All around me, everyone was weeping. I thought Lucy was going to lose it. They had to carry her up to the infirmary this time. I walked straight out and up to my room. I wanted to write down everything in my journal. The only other person who didn’t cry was Ernessa. But it doesn’t mean anything. She’s the kind of person who can laugh without being happy. So she can cry without being sad. I’m supposed to stay in my room until we meet with the psychologist in the library, but I have to see for myself.

  Ten-thirty A.M.

  The spot is directly under Ernessa’s window, but far out. She missed hitting the roof of the porches, which might have broken her fall. Instead she landed on the pavement. She threw herself out. She tried to fly away. They roped off the area. There was reddish-brown blood on the cement. It’s dried by now. I expected the pavement to be cracked or there to be a hole where her body hit, as if a meteor had collided with the Earth. I stood behind the rope and looked up to the window on the second floor. The sun was out, and the black glass reflected back the blue of the sky and the wispy clouds, which flew across the window panes. Behind the sky I searched for a face, searching for me.

  How can I ever talk to Lucy again? I’d be happy never to have to see her again.

  Quiet hour

  I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.

  They came and got me out of my math class. I panicked right away. Something terrible had happened to my mother. As I got my books together and left the classroom, I kept thinking, “How can you do this to me? How can you do this to me?”

  It wasn’t my mother at all. Mrs. Halton explained to me that a detective wanted to talk to me about Dora. I had already forgotten about her.

  “There’s no need to be nervous,” said Mrs. Halton. “The gentleman wants to ask you a few questions. I’ll be in the room with you the whole time.”

  But the way she said it, as if she were trying to talk a little child into doing something very unpleasant, made me feel that it was something to be afraid of. She was so pleased with herself. She had a smile on her face the whole time she escorted me along the Passageway to the Residence and up the stairs to the second-floor library.

  The detective was waiting for me. He wasn’t wearing a police uniform; he had on a regular suit, like an insurance salesman or a businessman. His overcoat was placed neatly over the chair next to him, and his briefcase was opened on the library table. He asked me lots of questions, and while I talked, he took notes on a yellow legal pad. No one has ever questioned me like that before.

  “This won’t take long,” he began. “I just have a few things to ask you. One of your classmates said that you and the girl who fell into the courtyard this morning, Dora, used to walk along the gutters. She said she’d seen you outside her window.”

  “We all did it,” I said. I heard Mrs. Halton gasp, for his benefit. “I’ve only done it once this fall. I think.”

  “When was that?”

  “About a week ago. Maybe a little more.”

  “And where exactly were you?”

  “I came out Dora’s window. I just went down to the next window.”

  “And then?”

  “I turned around. It was too cold.”

  “Was Dora out on the gutter that night?”

  “Just for a little while. She heard someone in the corridor, and she came out to get me.”

  “And what about last night? Were you with Dora?”

  “I was asleep in bed after lights out. I didn’t wake up until I heard the sirens on the drive. I told Dora I didn’t want to go along the gutters anymore.”

  “What do you think Dora was doing?”

  “She was probably going to Carol’s room, or maybe to Claire’s, which is at the corner.”

  “You don’t think she was going to the room next door? What was that girl’s name? I spoke with her earlier today.”

  “Ernessa?”

  “That’s right, was she going to Ernessa’s room?”

  “I’m sure she wasn’t going there. They weren’t friends.”

  “Sometimes girls at this age develop very strong … feelings … for each other, good and bad. Things can seem more important than they really are. Did she ever mention being unhappy or talk about killing herself, even as a joke?”

  “No. Never.”

  I answered all the questions, and he let me go. I said all the right things, and I think he believed me. Afterward I went straight to my room for the rest of the afternoon. I cut French and gym. I don’t care what happens. I can always say that I was too upset about Dora. I want to skip dinner too, but I can’t. Ernessa will see how upset I am. She sent the police to me.

  While the detective was questioning me, I felt
guilty about every horrible thought I’ve ever had. I kept reminding myself that just because I didn’t always like Dora and I sometimes wished I’d never have to see her again and never laid eyes on her in the first place didn’t mean that I wanted her to die.

  December 18

  Home. Safe for now. I panicked in the car when I thought I left my journal in my room, where anyone could find it, but it was in my book bag. My mother came to pick me up, and she was on time for a change. She comes through when she absolutely has to. She can sense when I need her. I couldn’t stay around school after everyone left. Everything there is dead Dora.

  Last night Sofia and Claire slept in my room. We were too scared to be alone. Lucy was in a daze. They gave her Valium when she went to the infirmary. She could hardly stand up. She wanted to sleep in her own room, with her stuffed animals, but she left the bathroom doors open all night and the light on in the bathroom.

  Claire said that Ernessa was called into Miss Rood’s office and that Mrs. Halton and the other corridor teachers were there. I’m so glad that Claire isn’t in my math class. She still doesn’t know what happened to me.

  “Why’d they do that?” asked Sofia. She can be so dense.

  “Dora’s room was right next to Ernessa’s, and she fell right below Ernessa’s window. I guess they wanted to ask her if she heard anything,” said Claire.

  “Or did anything,” I added. They didn’t notice my remark. Lucy was in her room, so I let it drop.

  Midnight

  I didn’t write about this earlier because I needed to think about it.

  Somehow I got up the nerve to confront Ernessa after dinner in the Playroom. It annoyed me so much that she was so calm when everyone was distraught, even the girls who didn’t particularly like Dora.

  I walked right up to her and said, “Why aren’t you upset about Dora like everyone else?” It’s the first time I’ve actually spoken to her in weeks.

  I thought she might get really pissed off, but she wasn’t offended. She wasn’t even surprised. Instead, she lit a cigarette and offered me one. I didn’t take it. She spoke very slowly, as if she were speaking to someone who didn’t quite understand her language.

  “Why should I be sad? Everyone has to die. If you have a body, it’s too late to cry. It’s only funerals that I can’t stand.”

  It’s true I’m only partly afraid of dying.

  I’m not ready to become like Ernessa. I have my journal, my books, my music, my friends, my mother.

  When I came back to everyone on the sofa, they all stared at me as if I’d done something horrible. Sofia had her arm around Lucy. Lucy was whimpering. I’m too tired and confused to figure them out. I want to sleep for the next two weeks.

  December 20

  I made myself call Charley tonight. Someone had to tell her.

  “Dora’s dead,” I said. “She fell from the gutter.”

  “This is a joke, right,” said Charley.

  “No. It happened on Wednesday night.”

  “You’re telling me that Dora’s gone to eternal dreamland?”

  “Yes. Dora’s dead. I told you.”

  “I can’t fucking believe she fell from the gutter. What a klutz.”

  “I tried to stop her,” I said. “I knew that it was a mistake, that Ernessa. …”

  I couldn’t hear what Charley said after that. The television was on, really loud. Charley must have turned up the volume. That’s the first thing she used to do when she came into the TV room at school. The canned laughter drowned out her words.

  I would have had to shout to make Charley hear me. I didn’t have the energy to explain to her that Ernessa had gotten rid of Dora. I don’t know if she pushed her, but she made her fall.

  “I’ve been tossed,” shouted Charley. “I’m the only one. Kiki, Betsy, and Carol are coming back. My ’rents are totally pissed off, but it’s like they’ve opened the door to my cell and thrown away the key.”

  “What are you going to do?” I shouted.

  “Go to day school near home.”

  Now Charley and Dora are gone. I’m the only one left. The coward. I won’t look through that window at night ever again. Ernessa understands that I won’t come too close.

  I could have gotten Charley to turn off the television and told her about Ernessa, but she doesn’t seem to care about that anymore. She doesn’t even really care about Dora dying. She’s gone from school, from our world. Ernessa can stay out all night, every night. Ernessa can be whatever she wants to be. None of this matters. They won’t be smoking dope together, so fuck it, as Charley would say.

  December 24

  My mother went to a party tonight. She asked me to come, but I told her I didn’t feel like it. I was tired, and I wanted to go to bed early. I wanted her to leave, but the moment she closed the door behind her, every room fell silent. There’s a wind whistling through the empty spaces. I wish Milou were still here, lying on the pillow by my head, purring gently and making little squeaking noises to let me know how happy he is. I’m all alone.

  Ernessa is a vampire.

  I haven’t been able to write those words before tonight. I couldn’t transform my fears into a conscious statement. She wants me, and only me, to see it. Her hand is guiding mine as I write these words.

  December 25

  If only I’d had a chance to see Dora’s body after she died. Her parents were in Paris, and they had her cremated right away. They didn’t even want to see her dead body. I wish I had. I would have checked her body to see if there were marks on it. Maybe something on the left breast, near the heart, or between the eyes. That’s where they would be. Barely breaking the skin, like bruises. But they only want one kind of death.

  What are they going to do with her unfinished novel, the dialogue between Nietzsche and Brahms? It probably wasn’t any good. Still, it’s sad that all those pages, covered with words, will disappear without anyone reading them. Someone needs to read them. I know her parents won’t. Her father was always so critical of everything she did.

  Maybe I should read her book.

  I guess Dora was nice to me sometimes, but I couldn’t stand the way she lectured me. I never forgave her for dismissing me like that. I was only friends with her because she was interested in Ernessa. She was only interested in Ernessa because Ernessa treated her the way Dora treated everyone else. Dora couldn’t help herself. Her vanity was wounded.

  Why am I writing such mean things about someone who has just died?

  Her book would poison me.

  I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—

  The Stillness in the Room

  Was like the Stillness in the Air—

  Between the Heaves of Storm—

  The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—

  And Breaths were gathering firm

  For that last Onset—when the King

  Be witnessed—in the Room—

  willed my Keepsakes—Signed away

  What portion of me be

  Assignable—and then it was

  There interposed a Fly—

  With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—

  Between the light—and me—

  And then the Windows failed—and then

  I could not see to see—

  Emily would have understood what interposed between Dora and her death, but I don’t.

  December 27

  Last night I learned some interesting facts going through the books in my father’s library. I knew he would have what I wanted. There are many ways in which a person can become a vampire, or a revenant (from the French for returning): (a) a bad person commits suicide under certain circumstances (What is a bad person? What are certain circumstances?); (b) a vampire visits someone while he’s asleep; (c) a bat flies over a corpse, a cat or dog jumps over a corpse, or a person leans over a corpse; (d) a person dies unseen; (e) a person’s shadow is stolen during his lifetime; (f ) a corpse’s mouth is open; (g) a person suffers a violent death; (h) a corpse is left unattended
, not accorded proper burial rights, or not buried deeply enough; (i) a vampire bites someone, although sometimes the victim dies without becoming a vampire.

  An open mouth, that’s unfair. It’s unfair to punish someone (or the soul) for something that happens when the person no longer has any control over the body. I laughed when I read about being born with two hearts, one of which is devoted only to destroying humanity.

  My father wanted to die unseen, like an animal who goes off and curls up by himself to die. But Milou didn’t need to hide from us. He wasn’t ashamed of dying. There must be one final breath, like the last bit of air being squeezed out of a raft, the final heave of the storm, and then the living body gives up and the invisible soul is freed. Maybe someone does need to witness that.

  December 31

  I think I’ve convinced my mother to let me stay home and not go back to school. I told her that I feel partly to blame for Dora’s death and that I can’t get over it. Those are things she’s tuned in to: grief, guilt, remorse.

  JANUARY

  January 1

  I don’t believe that my father is still around but in a different state. I don’t believe I can communicate with him. I hate that about my mother. She takes her dreams literally and feels that she is still in contact with him. Even if he appears to her full of anger. Anything, just so long as he doesn’t forget her.