The Unsacred Gift (A Young Adult Paranormal Novel)

by C. S. Dorsey

  “Wow!” I said. It was sunny. I wondered how many degrees it was. Judging by the heat waves I could see, I guessed it was pretty hot.

  Before we deboarded from the airplane, the fight attendant made one more round. I tried not to look at her, but the stewardess, I mean flight attendant, from my vision came my way. I ignored her as best I could, looked out the window as she neared my row.

  “Do you have any trash?” I continued to avoid eye contact with her and looked down as if I was searching for some trash to give her.

  “Uh..no…no trash here,” I said, then looked out the window.

  “OK,” she said in a light tone.

  “You may now unfasten your seat belts and proceed to exit the plane. Thank you for flying Southwest Airlines.” The pilot’s voice on the loudspeaker was music to my ears.

  I got up, adjusting my sweater, which I knew I wouldn’t need in the Oakland sun. I grabbed my carry-on and headed toward the exit.

  As I passed by I saw the flight attendant. I took a quick glance at her name tag. “Rachael,” it said. She was gathering her things as well. Looks like this is her stop, too, I thought—but of course I knew it was. I walked as fast as I could out of the terminal, away from the stewardess, who was right behind me.

  I saw the sign that said baggage claim, and the arrow pointed down. I stepped onto the escalator and looked around for my mom.

  As I was coming down, I saw her. She looked as beautiful as ever. She had her hair pinned up in a bun, with fresh yellow sunflowers in her hair. She had on a blue sleeveless top and some khaki Capri pants, with blue sandals that had a sliver chain twisted around the top. My mom always kept her toes polished; she didn’t like color on her toes too much, but she always had a shiny clear coat on her toes.

  I got off the escalator and walked toward her. She was standing next to the baggage claim, looking around.

  “Ma,” I said, as I waved to her. She turned her head, and her eyes gleamed with joy and sadness.

  “Sissy!” she said, waving her hands back and forth so hard I thought they were going to fall off. I desperately wanted to hug my mother. I wanted to smell her motherly scent of Ivory soap that she always washed with. I wanted to lay my head on her shoulders and cry and tell her about all of the nightmares I’d been having, all of the sleepless dreams and deadly visions.

  As I continued to walk toward her, tears began to form in my eye. I could barely see as the thick drops covered both my eyes.

  “Honey, come here!” She opened her arms for a hug, and I just stopped and looked at her, wondering if I should hug my mother or not. I walked toward her, opened my arms, and wrapped them around my mother, closing my eyes. I didn’t care at that moment, all I wanted to do was hug her and tell her I loved her.

  As I squeezed my arms around her, I opened my eyes fast…and nothing. Nothing at all, I thought. When I didn’t get a jolt of electricity or a flash of light in my eyes, I was relieved, joyful, and thankful that I did not have a vision. I hugged my mom for the longest time.

  “Love you, Ma,” I said, whispering in her ear.

  “I love you, too, honey,” my mom said, her joy choking her up so she could barely speak.

  She grabbed my face, placing one hand on each side of my cheeks and saying, “Mi Amore.” I looked in her eyes, and I started to cry a river.

  “I miss you so much,” my mother said, and her eyes became watery as well. We hugged again—so tight, I never wanted to let her go.

  After our hug, we walked over to the baggage claim, got my luggage, and headed out. When we walked outside of the airport, I could feel the heat from the sun. I knew it had to be at least ninety five degrees out there. This was what you call a hot August summer!

  As we walked to my mom’s car, she kept saying how skinny I looked and asking if I was eating enough. When you’ve seen what I have, sometimes food just doesn’t agree with you.

  “Oh, Ma,” I said, “I eat enough.” Enough to get me by, I was thinking.

  “Sissy, if you need money for food, just—”

  I cut her off. “So, Ma, how’s Granny?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “Your grandmother is fine. We think she’s losing her mind, but other than that she is OK.” We stopped at a silver Toyota Solaria. The car had tinted windows and a license plate that read BLISITB (Blessed Be). She told me she got a new car when she called to wish me a happy birthday last year. My mom is way too hip.

  “Ma, why do you think Granny is losing it?” I asked as she opened the trunk so I could put my luggage inside.

  “She…keeps saying things,” my mom said, shaking her head.

  “Well…” I said, with a confused look on my face. “What things does she say?”

  “She says, ‘I see things, and the time is near. Prepare yourselves for my departure.’ And she says it all the time.”

  I paused for a minute. “She has visions or something?” I asked.

  “So she says. I just need to talk to her doctor,” my mother said as we got in the car.

  I started thinking that maybe Granny was the one I’d gotten this bad hex from, an unwanted gift, with no receipt, and no return policy.

  “Sissy, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” If only she knew how many I saw, alive and well.

  “Ma, do you not believe Granny because she is old that she can see…things?”

  “Oh, honey,” my mom said as she put the car in reverse, and looked out the back window. “Your Granny is just at that age.”

  “So what you’re saying is you don’t believe her?” I asked.

  “Sissy, your Granny has been saying that since you left for college.” She turned on the air conditioner as we drove to the 880 freeway entrance.

  As I looked out the dark tinted window, I replayed what my mom had said about Granny in my head. Maybe Granny wasn’t as crazy as everyone thinks. Granny just might be right about seeing her death. Or maybe she was a crazy old looney tunes that lost her mind like I did. I chuckled at the thought of being crazy. Maybe I was.

  My mom was driving and talking about her job and how things were going for her at Charlie Investment Service. I sat and listened to her, not really absorbing the things she was saying, but responding with the usual responses—“Oh, really?” “That’s good.” I was on autopilot.

  “They want to make me vice president of their investment department.” That woke me up.

  “Really, Ma? That’s great. So what did you say?”

  “I told them I would think about it,” she said to me, shrugging her right shoulder.

  “Maaa! That would be great, you’d be making really good money.”

  She laughed to herself. “Yes, the money would be good, but the stress won’t. I don’t know, honey. I told them I would think about it.”

  “Well, don’t take too long, Ma, that is a really good opportunity.”

  “Yeah, I know, honey, but I’m too old for stress.” My mom didn’t look a day over thirty-five, and she was only forty-five. “I’ll see how things go.”

  It felt really good to just sit and talk with my mom. We had not done that in years. We exited highway 80 at the Powell Street exit, then over the Hollis ramp, left next to the Chevron gas station, and a right on 64th Street.

  My mom had picked the cutest little house on the block, and it was great to see it again. It was pink, with a white fence around the lawn. My mother must have been working hard on the house; I saw a new little flower bush that she’d planted next to the pink stairs. There was a little brown wicker chair on the porch, and above it was a silver windchime that made no noise. The heat was blazing in the Bay Area. There was no wind coming for miles.

  I got out of the car and grabbed my luggage out of the trunk. Everything was so neat and clean in the front of the house…I could only imagine how the inside of the house looked. My mom was a neat freak.

  As we walked toward the front door of the house, my mom talked about how she wanted to add more flowers to the front yard,
like she had in the back. Oh, boy, I thought. I know it is a flower jungle in the backyard. My mother was infatuated with sunflowers.

  When she opened the door, a golden-colored cat ran out. He had the prettiest thick coat and big green eyes. I said, “Ma, another cat?”

  “Oh,” she chuckled. “After Kim chi died and you left, I was lonely.” The thought had never occurred to me that my mother would be alone. I guess I was caught up in my own life, and I really didn’t think about her happiness. I just wanted to get out of the Bay Are as fast as possible.

  When I walked into the house, the smell of food caught my attention—every herb and spice you could think of. My mother loved watching Paula Deen on TV, so all of her dishes were down-home country cooking. Although we were neither from the country, nor from down south, my mother just loved the taste and smell of country cooking.

  I inhaled. “What are you cooking?” I asked her, wondering why she would cook in hot weather like this.

  “Oh, honey, you know I had to cook, since you were coming home for the first time in four years. I made cornbread, smothered chicken and rice, and fresh greens. I also made a cobbler. You know, just a little something.”

  “Just a little something,” I said, looking at my mom with suspicion. “OK, Ma, I’m just glad you didn’t pass out from the outside heat and inside heat as well.”

  “Oh, child, I cook like this all the time.”

  “For whom? Just you, Ma?” I looked over at her as she attempted to drag my luggage into the second bedroom, which she’d fixed up for me.

  “Oh, no, I cook for my friend,” she said. She gave me the weirdest look, then looked away.

  “Does she not have any family to cook for her?” I questioned, wondering what was going to come out of my mother’s mouth next.

  “No, honey, he doesn’t.”

  “HE!?” I said, shocked that my mother even let that slip out. I knew that was coming next.

  “Yes, HE,” she said in a mind-your-business tone.

  I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her to tell me who HE was.

  “So who is he and where did he come from?” I asked.

  “He is Mark, and he and I met at church.”

  “Oh, great, a churchgoer.” I didn’t mean to say that.

  “Yes, and what is wrong with a churchgoer, young lady?”

  I looked at my mother, my shoulders slumped, and my body shifted. “Nothing, Mother, it’s just…I was trying to say—”

  “Just what?” She looked at me, waiting for me.

  “It’s just…well, is he right for you? Does he make you happy?” I asked her.

  “Yes, he is good company, and he makes me laugh.” Her eyes sparkled as if she were watching Fourth of July fireworks light up in the sky. Seeing the shine in her eyes made me realized that my mother had a life too. And who was I to take that from her?

  “He’s coming over tonight for dinner, Sissy, so try and be nice.” I bit the inside of my cheek, and narrowed my eyes at her. “Sissy, be nice, OK?” she said, and gave me a big smile. I quickly changed my expression, and put on a fake smile.

  I had a feeling this was going to be a long weekend.

  “OK, Ma,” I nodded my head, “I will be nice.”

  “Good girl.”

  “So does Mark have a last name?” I asked my mother—really not caring about his last name.

  “Green,” she said, like saying it gave her some type of good feeling. There go those fireworks again, I said to myself.

  “Well, Mother, I would be more than happy to meet Mr. Mark Green.”

  “Great, honey, you will love him. He is wonderful.”

  I looked at my mother, and her reaction to this Mark man. I had never seen my mom get excited about another human being before, let alone act like that. Then again, I had my own life, dreams, and visions to worry about. Like, who was going to touch me today? What horrific scenes would I see? It was very stressful for me.

  I didn’t care that my mom was dating; I just didn’t want to meet him. It was bad enough I had to worry about the visions of my family—now there was a stranger that my mother seemed to be head over hills in love with. I just didn’t want her getting hurt, period. I didn’t want to see how the relationship would end…or how he would end, for that matter.

  Chapter Five

  “I lost my sister, now I was losing my mother.”

  After the shock of my mother’s secret romance with this Mark Green character, I went into the second bedroom. It had all of my things still in place, like I never left home. “I never touched your room,” my mother said. “Everything is still here.”

  I looked around at all of the posters I had on the wall—mainly Hello Kitty posters, but also hats and high school memorabilia, like my cap from my graduation, pictures of me and my few friends at the time, prom pictures of me by myself.

  I looked at that picture and thought about how miserable I was back then. Not being able to experience a first kiss, or a guy going to second base on me. Not that I necessarily wanted those things, but just the thought of not being able to experience them made me feel even worse. Like I was the plague; like if you touched me, you would die.

  I saw the picture that was on my nightstand between my full-size bed and the closet. I grabbed it. It was a picture of me and my mom when I was six. I wondered why Misty was not in the picture. Maybe this was taken after her disappearance, I thought, giving my mind some relief, so that it would not go off and speculate things.

  I opened the closet, and found it had all of my mom’s clothes in it. I smacked my lips, wondering why she had to use this closet too. But I wasn’t using it, so why not. I took my suitcase, put it in the closet, and closed the sliding door. Everything was starting to become familiar again.

  I plopped on the edge of the bed, looked in the mirror, and said to myself, “You have not changed that much…have you? Naw.” I thought about what my mom had said earlier about me getting skinny. That’s such a mother thing to say. Either you’re getting fat, or you’re getting skinny; you’re eating too much, or not enough. Mothers are never satisfied when it comes to their children.

  I was still sleepy from the plane ride. That nap I had was way too good, and I know that I would not sleep like that again. I got up and left the room to visit my mom in the kitchen, while she prepared her dinner for Mr. Fourth of July.

  It was two o’clock in the afternoon and she was fixing a three-course meal in what it felt like the middle of a desert.

  “It smells good, Ma,” I said as the herbs and spices filled my senses.

  “Oh, thank you, honey, I want everything to be perfect for when you and Mark meet.” I hissed at the sound of his name.

  “So, how long have you and this Mark guy been talking?’ I asked her.

  “We have been seeing each other for two years now.”

  “Two years!” I said in shock and frustration. “Ma, you have been talking to me on the phone every weekend, and you have not once said anything about the guy.” I was fuming. Not that I wanted to know the details or anything! Ew! Not a good thought.

  “Well, honey, you never let me in on your life. You’re always so secretive, like you don’t want me to know what’s going on with you.” If I told you, you would be calling the insane asylum on me and grandma.

  “Yes, but still, I would have liked to know.”

  “Well…me, too. I would like to know what going on with you, too, so now we’re even.”

  She had a point. Who was I to get mad at the things she does in her life? It was her life. I didn’t fill her in on mine, so why should she fill me in on hers? I sighed, because I knew I couldn’t win the argument. It wasn’t really an argument anyway.

  “You’re right, Ma,” I said. “I apologize for my behavior.” It took a lot for me to apologize to my mother. I just wanted her safe. I did not want any harm to come her way. I was trying to protect her. But who and what was I trying to protect her from? Mark, her Mr. Fourth of July…or me?

  I wa
lked over to my mom, standing in front of the stove stirring her greens, and gave her a hug. “I love you, Ma. I just what to make sure that you’re safe and happy.”

  “I am, honey, I am,” she said to me with a sparkle in her eyes. I knew she was thinking about Mark, and quickly changed the subject.

  “So what time are we having the shindig for Granny?” I asked, as I walked over to the sliding doors that lead to the patio. Looking out the window, I could see my mom had gone crazy with the sunflowers. The backyard was beautiful, with low-cut green grass and flowers planted along the sides of the walls and the fence of the backyard. It was a little backyard, but big enough. There was patio furniture on the concrete at the left side of the yard, as soon as you walked out the sliding doors. Everything else was green grass and multicolored sunflowers. Purple, pink, white, and yellow—you name the colors, they were planted back here.

  “Oh, the party is going to be around four o’clock. We’re going to have it here. I still need to go to the store in the morning and pick up a few things, but other than that everything is set.” My mother was always so cheerful when it came to planning parties and cooking. Whenever our family had a gathering, our place was the place to have it.

  “Ma, how are Auntie Tiy and the twins?”

  “Auntie Tiy is doing better, and the girls finally moved out, so that is good for Tiy’s health.” My two twin cousins were the spawn of Satan. Funny…yes. But true. Those girls put my auntie in the hospital one time. Every since I could remember, those two girls had demonic ways.

  I remember when we were little, I had to be about ten and they were six going on seven, we had a family function at Kennedy Park in Hayward. It was Memorial Day. Everyone was having a great time, except my auntie Tiy.

  She was so miserable with those two. She had to watch them all the time, to make sure they didn’t get into anything. When all of the kids went to ride on the train at the park, my auntie told them they couldn’t go, simply because she feared they would jump off, or disrupt the other kids on the ride. When my auntie said no, they went into a tantrum only Satan could have created. They were so loud, throwing food everywhere. One of them grabbed a cup with some red soda in it, drank it, and spit the red soda in my auntie’s face, and then laughed. She was so embarrassed.