Luna Rising

by Selene Castrovilla

  Again there was an opportunity to speak with Trip.

  So she did.

  But not about their relationship.

  Instead, she chose what might be the last moments they spent together to ask about “Homeland.” They’d watched it once together, and she asked what had happened since.

  “Haven’t seen it,” he said gruffly.

  “Oh… you said you watched it all the time,” she said.

  “Nope… I gotta work, you know.”

  She did know that.

  Then they were there.

  In front of Trip’s parents’ house.

  It looked like something that might’ve erupted from his cluttered mind. His parents’ RV, his beat-up work truck with detached cap, and three cars—two of which were Trip’s—were all in the driveway and on the lawn. The house—a ranch-style, probably built in the 50’s, when the neighborhood was new—had a tired look. There was a security camera mounted above the garage and two signs on the door—one proclaiming “no solicitors,” and the other alerting possible intruders to the camera. Thick curtains barricaded the front picture window.

  It was not a warm and fuzzy house.

  Trip got out and made a couple of trips to the door with his Marlboro luggage.

  He lingered a bit then, checking out the bag with her boxing gear and pulling out her gloves. “These your gloves?” he asked, examining their worn red leather.

  “Yeah,” she said, wondering who else’s gloves they could be.

  She fingered the note. It was between two books wedged between the van’s two front seats.

  He opened the front door again, and gave her a peck on the lips.

  She pulled out the note.

  “What’s this?” he asked, taking it from her extended hand.

  “A note,” she said, looking past him at all the junk on his lawn.

  “A note for me?” His tone was half-cute, half-wistful. She wondered if he somehow knew.

  “Yeah, a note for you,” Luna said. She forced herself to look at him now.

  Was it really the last time?

  Oh God.

  She wanted to snatch that note away and say ‘never mind.’

  But she couldn’t stand living like this anymore.

  “Okay,” he said. Fingers around the doorframe, he paused. Then he said, “I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay,” she numbly agreed.

  He slammed the door shut.

  She drove away.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Luna felt ill. She pulled into a shopping center and parked in front of Blimpie’s. She turned her engine off and took deep breaths in and out, trying to follow rule number one.

  She missed Trip so much. And it had only been a few minutes since she’d dropped him off.

  The breathing wasn’t working, so she took a sip from her water bottle.

  That’s when something really felt like it was coming up. Click! She unlocked her door and opened it. She leaned out over the pavement and stared down at the bright paint marking her parking space. Her stomach was churning, bile rose in her throat… She heaved right on that yellow line.

  “What now, Jiminy? I feel like I’m dying…” It hurt so bad, like something had been ripped from her insides. I’m gonna die without him.

  You sound like a teenager, Jiminy said. Relax, you’ll survive.

  She wiped a drop of vomit from her chin and leaned against the wheel. “How am I supposed to function?”

  Keep going, said Jiminy. The best way out is always through.

  “Why don’t you go straight through to hell, Jiminy.”

  That’s not nice, he scolded.

  “Never said I was,” she answered. She may not have said it, but she was actually nice, and she felt bad for what she’d said to Jiminy, and for what she’d written to Trip.

  “I’m sorry, Jiminy.” He didn’t respond.

  She looked in the window of Blimpie’s – at the guy behind the counter. Any minute now people would start arriving for lunch. All his meats, cheeses and condiments were neatly laid out in front of him. He just had to wait.

  She wanted to call Trip, to say, “Never mind the note” if he hadn’t read it, or “April Fool’s!” if he had—even though it wasn’t April.

  She called Sunny instead.

  Sunny was stunned. “This is out of nowhere,” she said. “You never said you were going to break up with Trip.”

  “I didn’t know I was,” Luna said. She told Sunny about holding the chicken and hearing Jiminy, who didn’t take no for an answer.

  Luna’s voice was cracking, but she willed herself not to cry. She couldn’t make a spectacle of herself in front of Blimpie’s, especially with the lunch crowd coming.

  Sunny said, “Well, Jiminy doesn’t know everything. Maybe you’re not done with Trip yet.”

  “So, what now?”

  “How the hell should I know?” said Sunny. “I can’t even make the right choices for myself. But come over for dinner and we’ll discuss it. I’ll order Chinese.”

  With something to look forward to, Luna coaxed herself into starting her engine and driving from the lot. Her stomach still twisted, but she didn’t barf again.

  She drove home and went to sleep.

  Sunny’s kids were at their grandmother’s house and Luna’s kids were at Nick’s, which was a good thing, because Luna’s morose mood gave the meal a very sad tone. “Cheer up, Chicky,” Sunny said. “Give Trip a call if you feel like you have to.”

  “He wouldn’t answer anyway,” said Luna.

  Sunny looked deeply at Luna. “Well, if you do decide to reach out to him, I want you to know that it’s fine. You have to do things at your own speed, not Jiminy’s.”

  “You’re saying that I shouldn’t have written the note?”

  “I totally think you should’ve written the note… But I’m not sure you think you should’ve written it.”

  “Hmmmm…”

  “Okay… so let’s read our fortunes. You first.” Sunny pushed one of the cellophane-wrapped cookies Luna’s way.

  Luna obediently opened it. “When unsure, take the next small step,” she read. “Terrific.”

  Sunny read hers. “Can I have the directions to your heart?” She laughed. “Dude, that’s like a cheesy pick-up line.”

  “It’s not a pick-up line,” said Luna. “It’s a message from God.”

  “Whatever.” Sunny shrugged. “By the way, I’m done flirting with Phil.”

  “That’s good. What happened?”

  “Nothing. I realized I don’t want him back after all.”

  “Is this your final answer?”

  “It is,” said Sunny. “He answered my email, and even his reply was boring.”

  “Some things never change,” said Luna.

  Sunny continued, “It was the drinking that turned me. I forgot how bad it was until you reminded me about the gin at the side of my bed.” She toyed with her fortune. “And you were right. I don’t want to be that person… the person who uses someone.”

  “I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it,” said Luna.

  “And anyway, I got a raise at both jobs, so I’m no longer in imminent danger of eviction.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Sunny made them both coffee. She put a box of Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies on the table. “Classy, aren’t I?”

  “You’re a first-class friend,” said Luna.

  “Dude, that’s another cheesy line.” They both laughed. “Well, at least you’re in better spirits now.”

  “I am.”

  “Good.” Sunny finished the last of a cookie, swiped at the chocolatey remains and sighed. “God, look at the men I’ve chosen. A crackhead and a booze-hound. Do you think I’ll ever meet someone who isn’t completely substance-addicted?”

  “Sure. You just need to change your aura.”

  “I’m too tired for aura-changing.”

  “Maybe we both need to do what my fortune said: Take the next
small step.”

  “Any idea what step to take?”

  “None.”

  They both laughed again.

  Sitting in her cold, empty car in the municipal parking lot outside Sunny’s after dinner, Luna had nothing to laugh at. As soon as she slammed her van door and sank into the dark interior, it all hit her again.

  I’m alone.

  Everyone’s alone, said Jiminy.

  “Some people have partners. They’re not alone.”

  Everyone’s alone, said Jiminy. Anything else is a facade.

  “What are you, the grim reaper?” She was parked head-on to a humongous tree. Thick trunk stared through her windshield, rough bark straight in her face.

  It’s not a bad thing to be alone, Jiminy said. Once you’re comfortable with that, you can be unconditionally happy.

  Luna wasn’t paying attention. She was thinking of Trip. She unzipped her purse and took out her phone. She entered her address book, scrolled to Trip’s name and hit call.

  She got his voice mail, of course.

  His warm, inviting voice. So ironic now.

  At the beep she said, “I’m sorry. I want to talk to you, to see how you are.”

  Even as she spoke the words, she felt how ridiculous they were.

  But they were also true.

  He didn’t call her back.

  The next day, Luna went for an adjustment.

  Inside the examining room, lying on the table, Luna found herself staring at Dr. Gold’s “Rules of the Office.” The word “breathe” popped up at her.

  “I’m having the hardest time doing the simplest things. Even breathing is an effort,” she told him.

  “You’re going through a lot,” he told her. “Relax.”

  That again.

  “I still can’t believe it’s over with Trip.” It was the third time she’d said that since she’d arrived.

  “You were waiting for him to give you what you needed. That wasn’t going to happen, Luna. You did the right thing, even though it hurts.”

  “I keep thinking of him…”

  “You have to let go.”

  “I don’t seem to be able to let go of anything… or anyone. I thought I was improving, but I feel so angry. At my dad, my mom, Nick, Trip…”

  “Thank them.”

  “Thank them?”

  Dr. Gold nodded with a totally Buddha face, except it wasn’t round. “Be grateful.”

  “For what?”

  “They challenged you in a way that allowed you to grow.”

  “So you expect me to walk up to these people and say, ‘thank you for treating me bad’?”

  “I don’t expect anything, Luna. But I think it’ll happen of its own accord. You won’t have to say anything. When you’re ready, you’ll feel the gratitude sweeping through you.

  “What will it feel like?”

  “Like ‘Ahhhhhh.’”

  “Sounds like one of those York Peppermint Patty commercials.”

  “It’s better,” he told her. “Way better.”

  At home, Luna kept trying to write. The end of NWaN, or anything at all.

  Nothing came.

  The day before her birthday, Luna had a workout with Joe.

  “How’s that book going?” he asked when they were taking a rest from their pad work. She knew he meant NWaN—they’d discussed it often.

  “Pretty good… Okay, it’s tough. I have no clue how it’ll end. But I’m sure something productive will come out of all this.”

  “What are you calling it?” Joe asked.

  “I was thinking maybe She Loved Them All.”

  “Yeah, right. Try, She Clubbed Them All.”

  The bell rang and she started pounding at the pads he held up again. “Are you saying I’m angry?” Bam! Bam! Bam!

  He grinned in his psycho-killer way. “Yes, I am.”

  She stopped punching. “I miss Trip, Joe.”

  “I know, Kiddo,” he said. “I know.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  Trip is gone. I sent him away.

  Luna woke up with this thought, just as she had the previous two mornings.

  Trip and the lack of an ending for her book were all she thought about.

  “Happy birthday, Mommy!” Luna opened her eyes. Dylan was holding a plate of pancakes. “We made you breakfast in bed!”

  Ben entered her bedroom slowly, holding a steaming mug of coffee. “Happy birthday, Mom.” He gave her a kiss. “Love you.”

  “You guys are the best,” said Luna.

  “And guess what?” asked Dylan.

  “What?”

  “When you’re done eating, I’m gonna teach you to ride a bike.” When Dylan had learned to ride, he’d wanted Luna to go riding with him. She’d had to admit that she didn’t know how. He said, “You deserve to know the experience, too.”

  That was not thrilling news.

  Every time Luna had ever gotten on a bike she’d fallen within seconds, and the plummet was a relief from those shaking, heart-racing moments. “I guess you can try,” she said.

  Gulp.

  She sipped her coffee.

  After breakfast, Luna and the kids headed to the school’s grassy field. Ben came for moral support. They were wheeling his bike, which the kids had decided would be best for her, even though Luna had argued for Dylan’s. Closer to the ground meant less of a fall.

  The weather was warm for March. They were all wearing sweatshirts instead of coats, and Luna sported a purple hat.

  Luna got on Ben’s bike, with Dylan beside her. “Pedal, Mom,” he instructed. So she did, even though she was scared.

  She was moving, with Dylan holding her up.

  “Go, Mom!’ Ben cheered.

  They went a short distance, which freaked Luna out even though Dylan was there. It was such a weird feeling, trying to negotiate gravity.

  Then Dylan let go.

  Plop! Down she went. “Ouch!”

  Her thigh took the brunt of the impact. It throbbed. “Get up, Mommy,” Dylan said. “We gotta keep going until you get it.”

  She didn’t want to disappoint him, so she dragged herself up from the grass and got back on the bike.

  They repeated the same scenario.

  Plop! “Ouch!”

  It was no use. She was too skittish. Even when she didn’t fall, she halted at the first wobble. “I have to stop,” she told the kids. “This is all too much.”

  “Oh, fine,” said Dylan. “But this isn’t over. I’m gonna have you riding before the summer.”

  “If you say so,” Luna said.

  They walked back to the house. Luna’s whole body was throbbing now.

  “So who’s coming over for cake tonight?” Ben asked.

  “Sunny and the kids, and Nonna,” said Luna.

  “What about grandpa in the wheelchair?” asked Dylan.

  “How can he come? He can’t drive,” said Ben.

  “Nonna could take him,” said Dylan.

  Luna was surprised at this mention of her father. “What made you bring him up?” she asked.

  “Well, he is my grandpa,” said Dylan.

  There was something in Dylan’s tone that struck Luna. Suddenly she felt bad, that she’d only brought the kids to visit Lenny once. “I thought you guys didn’t enjoy seeing him.”

  “I don’t mind,” said Ben. “I liked the pizza we got after we left that place.”

  Luna pictured the last time she’d seen Lenny, lying in that bed, with only The Wheel of Fortune for companionship.

  She’d spent her childhood waiting for him. But did that make it right to leave him in Blue Skies, waiting for her?

  He’d apologized.

  Then she’d run out of there.

  It’s time to finish that conversation.

  Luna dropped the kids off with Sunny and headed across the Long Acre Bridge. Back across those humming monks, and past those golden arches. Millions and millions served… so many, they’d stopped counting.

  This time, she p
layed the radio super-loud to overpower her brain. She didn’t want to think. If she did, she’d probably turn the van around.

  Luna tried not to look at Starbucks when she turned the corner and parked in a head-on spot halfway down the block. She clicked the lock button on her van, slammed the door and crossed the street, still facing away from the place she’d met Trip.

  She headed into Blue Skies, through the automatic doors. Up in the elevator to the sixth floor. Then, treading linoleum to her father’s room, inhaling lemon disinfectant all the way.

  His adjustable bed was empty.

  The TV was silent.

  Was she too late?

  Wouldn’t Loreena have told her if Lenny was dead?

  A nurse ducked in the doorway. “Everyone’s in the community room, baby,” she said. “It’s up the hall, past the elevators.”

  So Luna headed back down the hall, through the double doors into the huge room where all the sixth floor occupants were parked in their wheel chairs, facing a big flat-screen TV. They looked like the gang from Awakenings—pre-awakening.

  An Oprah re-run was on. She was jumping around the stage all excited, playing Deal or No Deal with Howie Mandel.

  Why, Luna didn’t know.

  Apparently some people got very thrilled playing Deal or No Deal, and Oprah was one of them.

  The Blue Skies residents could’ve been watching static for all the enthusiasm they registered. They were negative on the recognition scale.

  That disinfectant scent was in there, too.

  Lenny was sitting in his wheelchair just inside the doors to the right. He actually looked good—his hair was cut and combed and he was clean-shaven. Also, he was wearing a button-down flannel shirt instead of his blue pajamas. Mom must’ve actually come through with some clothing.

  But he looked petulant.

  “Dad?” she asked.

  He stared at her like he wasn’t sure who she was.

  “He just threw his glasses,” an aide sitting with a frail female patient said. “He said he don’t want them no more.”

  “You don’t want your glasses, Dad?” Luna asked him.

  “N… no.”

  She couldn’t blame him. With his life, who would want to see clearly?

  She picked up the plastic tortoise-shell frames, which were under the chair of the woman the aide was sitting with. One of the lenses was missing. “Were they like this already?”