by Jaz Johnson
“Saphora?” Fran called out from the kitchen. Saphora had her back against the front door, which she was slowly slumping down. Fran walked out from the room, trying to get her towel-covered hand into the opening of a glass she was cleaning. But before she could make it into the living room, Saphora was rushing her way upstairs to her room, trying to avoid letting Fran see her singed clothing. She didn’t want to talk about another encounter with Tebias. That would only start more arguments that she knew she couldn’t win. Closing the door behind her to her room, she kicked off her shoes while pulling off her jacket, taking off her shirt, and tossing them into her closet. Doing the same for her jeans, she then walked into her closet, and rushed to find something to throw on as Fran called up the stairs.
“Hang on!” she called back, pulling out a pair of sweats. Looking down to pull up those sweats, Saphora froze. Something on her thigh caught her attention. She squinted, her right hand letting go of the top of the sweats to graze over her skin. Something was off with the tone of her flesh. Her eyes widened when she recognized the odd colour to be the patterns that she knew to be on her back. In a fit of panic and curiosity, she turned herself around, turning her back to the full-sized mirror on the back of the door to her closet. The markings had spread. They were now covering the entirety of her back, as well as crawling down her right buttock to wrap around her right leg, stopping midway down her thigh. Her right hand trailed around her leg, as her body twisted in her observation.
“What’s happening to me …” she breathed, as she turned around to see if the markings had spread to her front, aside from her leg. To her relief, they hadn’t. But she wasn’t exactly sure why it was relieving. Perhaps because they were unknown. But thinking about it, she couldn’t exactly name a reason to be fearful of them. She just wanted to know what it was, and why it was spreading.
“Saphora?” Fran called out again, coming up the stairs. Saphora swore under her breath as she ducked down to pull the sweats up and tug at the draw string before rushing to grab any shirt she could find. Pulling out a white tee shirt, she made the change, walking out of the closet and closing the door behind her in time for Fran to knock on her door. She didn’t wait for a response when she opened her door and walked in. “Saphora?” she asked again. Saphora nodded, pushing her hair back from her face as she raised her head to look at Fran.
“Hey, Fran. Sorry. I just,” she sighed. “Really wanted to change into some comfortable clothing. Long day.” Fran started a nod, her mother instincts ringing loud and clear. She looked over Saphora’s body, searching for anything that may have been hidden under her clothing, but found nothing.
“You got a ride home?” Saphora looked at her in question. “From that car that just drove away?” Fran crossed her arms, and leaned against the door frame. With a heavy sigh, Saphora nodded, and slowly walked over to her bed to sit down on it.
“Yeah, Fran. I got a ride.”
“From who?”
“A friend.”
“A friend.”
“Yeah?” Saphora looked up at her. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I?”
“Well of course you are, sweetheart. But I would like to know them too.”
“Why? I’m like twenty something.” Fran’s head dipped down in slight laughter as she pushed off the doorframe and moved her hands to her hips.
“Yes, but I would still like to know them. I’m in my forties and you know my friends. Plus,” she said, going over to sit next to her on the bed. “While I may not be your mother, I do see you as my daughter, and I think I have a right to know … your friends, don’t you think?”
“I guess. Just … Maybe when I know them a little better?”
“Better? You got into a car with someone you hardly know?” Fran asked, tilting her head sardonically. Saphora tilted her head back and groaned.
“Fran. Don’t you think I would be able to handle myself if something happened?”
“I suppose. I just want you to be careful, okay? I don’t want any more phone calls. Okay? No more surprises.”
Saphora paused, taking those words into consideration. Her eyes lowered. The hope she had of one day being able to tell Fan everything, and still be accepted was spiraling fast. Things were already on edge between them. There was no way Saphora could assume everything was going to end up going smoothly. So she bit the bullet, and forced herself to agree, silently preparing for the drift that would undoubtedly take place.
“Yeah, no more surprises.”
Fran smiled, patting her hand against Saphora’s back.
“I’m going to uh, go to bed, okay?”
“Okay … Well I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to head to work.”
“The dragon is coming Wednesday, right?”
“Wednesday or Thursday. It depends on the weather,” Fran answered with excitement. Saphora attempted to smile at her response.
“It should be exciting. Make sure it’s comfortable. You don’t want to piss off the dragon.”
“Right. Don’t want it burning down the place,” Fran laughed, standing up and leaning over Saphora to kiss her forehead. “Alright, sweetie. Get some rest.”
Saphora reached her hand out to take Fran’s wrist before she walked away.
“Wait,” she stammered. “Did uh, did the police say anything? About the tree … Did they find anything?”
“They took what they found back to their lab. They’re going to call us when they’ve got some answers.”
“They didn’t tell you what they found?” Saphora asked, a little confused as to why that would be.
Fran shook her head. Saphora let go of her wrist as her eyes darted about. She thought about the gun. It flew from Tebias’ hand. She couldn’t help but wonder if the gun had remained lost in the woods, or if Tebias had retrieved it. It wasn’t with him during the second encounter that she could remember. But he could have had it stashed somewhere else, for all she knew. Paranoia was just creeping in. The thought of the police finding a weapon like that was enough to unnerve her. Finding something unworldly like that could lead them to wonder just how unworldly Saphora was.
“Why?” Fran finally asked.
“I was just wondering … What about Lupin? Did you talk to him after?”
“Yes. He still expects to see you on Monday.” Saphora was silent. “You’re going.” Again, Saphora remained quiet, and Fran tilted her head down, looking for a sign that she understood her. Remembering the conversation she had with him, she didn’t know what the consequence would be if she didn’t go. Thinking about what he said … she felt threatened to go. She wanted to do something about it. But what? Fran cleared her throat, getting Saphora to look up at her.
“Yeah,” she finally answered.
“Good. That all?”
No. It wasn’t. After everything she had just been told? That was nowhere near the amount of questions that she wanted to ask her. It wasn’t anywhere near the amount of things she wanted to talk about. She had too much to tell, without knowing how. Too many secrets, without enough reasons. Answers to questions she could never explain. And she knew that with each thing that she kept from her, they would fall further apart. But what could she do? Take that leap of faith and hope that she would remain the woman she loved? What hurt her the most, was the fact that she doubted that possibility.
“Yeah … Night, Fran,” she said, standing up and walking over to the side of her bed, pulling her blanket back as she did.
Fran smiled, and left the room, closing the door behind her. Saphora sighed, dropping the blanket and falling face-first across her bed. Just what was she going to do about Lupin? Would he really give all her information to the police? Just what kind of information did he have? She didn’t know, and that scared her. What if he had known everything this entire time? What if he had been following her? Her eyes widened. What if he knew her parents? She rolled over to lay on her back. What if he really did know everything? About everything? About Athena? About Tebias. Hydra. S
aphora sat up in her bed. But if he did, wouldn’t he have already gone to the police? Information should like that would probably land Lupin enough money to retire immediately. So why didn’t he?
But who is to say that anyone would believe him if he did? Maybe he didn’t have the facts that he needed to prove whatever theory he had. But what could that be?