by Anna Katmore
“Julian, wait. Don’t—” My plea bounced off his back. His hand curled tighter around my good one, and I stood no chance against his pull.
A cool wind brushed my face. The night sky was illuminated with a million stars and a harvest moon hanging low. Julian stopped and turned. He closed the little space between us and gazed into my eyes, cupped my face, and pressed his lips to mine.
Together with time, my heart stopped. For an infinite moment, Julian and I melted into each other. His kiss was fierce and demanding, and still, I had yet to come across something equally as tender in my life. It felt as if he’d poured his very soul into this kiss.
And my heart opened for him to enter fully.
I didn’t know how long we stood entangled. But when he pulled back, the pain of being ripped apart soared through me. I yearned to stay with him as one being. Forever.
“I love you, Jona,” he whispered with no one but me and the stars to hear.
And deep inside me, I felt I loved him, too, no matter who or what he was. I was devoted to this man with my mind, body, and soul. But I’ve never said those words to anyone before. And however long he waited on my reply, the words wouldn’t come through my dry, tight throat.
With a long sigh, Julian closed his eyes and touched his lips to mine for another tender moment. Then he stepped back, turned, and walked across the balcony toward his room. A heavy burden seemed to press on his shoulders, urging me to run after him. Or to call him back at least. But tongue-tied and frozen, I watched him disappear through the floating curtains.
SHE WIPED THEM ALL OFF THE TABLE
“SEVENTY-SIX BOTTLES of wine in the box. Seventy-six bottles of wine. Take one out and dip it into water, seventy-five bottles of wine in the box…” I sang.
Warm water ran from the faucet into the kitchen sink. For the past couple of hours I had performed the monotonous task of rinsing one empty bottle after the other. This annoying song had crept into my mind, and I couldn’t get it out but kept singing under my breath.
I turned the bottles upside down on a wide towel spread on the table where they could dry.
Because of my injured left hand, which still felt just fine, Marie had forbidden me to go out with them to work in the field today. Afraid the dirt would make my wound worse, she gave me an easy task to fill the boring morning hours. Rinsing a stack of bottles that Albert had retrieved from the cellar; single-handedly.
The bottles were covered with more dust than Captain Blackbeard’s rum bottle. Soon they’d be refilled with new wine from this season’s crop.
About forty more waited in the box, but my bursting bladder urged me to rush upstairs. I didn’t stop when the door to my mother’s room opened and she popped her head out.
“Julian, is that you?” she asked hoarsely.
“No!” I shouted down, then slammed the door to my room shut and went into the bathroom.
What did she need that alien for today? Did she want to discuss me again? If she wanted to talk to him, she would have to wait until he came back or take a stroll out to the vinery. I sure as hell wasn’t going to get him for her. Not after he’d left the house without a glance at me this morning.
A few minutes later, I was on my way back downstairs but whirled about once more. Leaning over the sink and rinsing the bottles had drenched my t-shirt. The fabric stuck to my skin and irritated me, so I went back and changed my clothes.
Downstairs, a door opened, and my mother’s panicked voice echoed in the house. “Marie?”
“Oh, give it a break. You know she’s not here,” I muttered to myself. Buttoning my fresh shirt, I went out into the hallway and leaned over the banister. “Marie’s out! Everyone is!”
I cringed at the shrieking sound of glass breaking. If Charlene had knocked over the bottles in the kitchen, I was going to make her clean up the mess by herself.
A wave of anger washed over me as I stormed down the winding staircase and strode toward the kitchen. The first thing that came into view was a sea of green shards spread all over the floor.
“Shit, what have you done?” Glass crunched under the soles of my boots as I entered. But at first sight, my mother wasn’t around. Maybe Lou-Lou had come in and—
My gaze fell on a limp body on the floor. Covered with fragments of glass and blood. My heart stopped. I spun on the spot, cut a glance at the door and then back at Charlene. I dragged a clawed hand through my hair and pressed the other over my mouth. An eerie silence numbed my ears. What in the world was I to do now?
Get back to your room.
Close the door.
Pretend nothing has happened.
I could ignore her. Wait until the rest of the family came home. Julian would know what to do. He’d coddle her as always. His regular check on her was overdue, anyway.
Seconds ticked away, and hysteria gripped me around the throat. Where was he?
And what if he didn’t come?
This is it. She’s dead. It’s over. You can breathe.
With the first long breath, tears sprang to my eyes. Figuring out how to make my mind and tongue function together was hard. I had her name in my head and wanted to speak it out loud, to get a reaction from her. But when I opened my mouth I couldn’t produce any real sound.
The passing moments seemed like an eternity as I stared at the lifeless body in front of me. It was like I was staring into an open grave at the cemetery. My skin went ice-cold. I hated Marie for bringing me there yesterday.
“Do you really want her to die with a broken heart?”
I shot around to see who’d said that. No one stood behind me. Then I realized it was Julian’s words ringing in my ears. And suddenly, the first memory from my early childhood flashed in my mind. I remembered happy moments in my mother’s arms as she hugged and loved me, twirled me around in the kitchen when her violent boyfriend was out and it was only the two of us in the flat.
I remembered chocolate fudge cakes. A lullaby and goodnight kisses. Even the red velvet dress she had sewn for my first day in nursery school surfaced in my mind. It had taken a whole long week of my pleading until she had bought me the matching red patent-leather shoes.
This woman was my mom.
She was the one who gave me life. A good deal of it might have been miserable, but she’d tried to make up for it by bringing me to Marie’s wonderful place with people around who seemed to love me for no other reason than that I was part of their family. And I loved them in return.
I didn’t want her to die. Or to suffer from cancer and be in so much pain. And most of all, I didn’t want to feel angry at her any longer. All I wished for in that moment was peace for me and for this woman who I’d loved unconditionally so many years ago.
Dragging my boots through the shards, I stumbled to her side.
“Charlene?” My voice broke and I tried again. “Charlene! Can you hear me? Mom?”
I skimmed the hair off her face. An acrid smell wafting toward me made me wince. There were traces of vomit around her mouth, stains on her shirt. Two scarlet streams of blood ran from her nose over her top lip, and angled to the left, dripping to the floor. Cuts dotted her face and hands.
Carefully, I wiped all the tiny pieces of glass off of her then pressed my palm to her cheek. She was hot. But at least her chest lifted slowly with steady breaths. I took her face in my hands and said once more, “Mom? Look at me. If you can hear me, please say something.”
She was silent.
I struggled to lift her from the hard stone floor. Her upper body cradled in my arms, she finally opened her eyes.
I freed her of any remaining shards of glass, then gathered all my reserved strength, and heaved my mother up from the floor. Half dragging and half carrying, I took her to her room, where I lowered her to the bed and began stripping off her shirt.
“Don’t—”
Her weak objection didn’t make me stop. This wasn’t the moment for an argument. When her body lay undressed before me, I gasped. Beneath her clothes, Char
lene was nothing but skin and bones. If I hadn’t seen her moving around the past couple of weeks, I would have believed she was already dead.
On her nightstand sat a glass of water, which I held to her lips so she could rinse her mouth and get rid of the awful taste of vomit. The first mouthful she spewed into the bucket next to her bed. Then she drank in slow sips.
From the closet, I grabbed a new shirt, opening the window on my way. Fresh air drove the nauseating smell out of the room.
I helped my mother into the sleeves, pulled the quilt over her legs, and cleaned the blood from her face with a wet cloth.
She gaped up at me and reached out one shaky hand.
Too exhausted to stifle the sigh in my throat, I sat on the edge of the bed. Her hand felt cold, sweaty. This was our first touch in over twelve years. Nothing was left of the soft, warm fingers she used to run through my hair when I was little.
Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t bring up the strength to speak.
“Don’t worry,” I hushed her. “Everything will be fine. In a little while.” As soon as Julian came back. I cast a longing glance at the empty doorway.
The squeeze she gave my hand wouldn’t have been hard enough to crush an ant. A single tear ran down her cheek as she made a weak attempt to smile.
“Try to get some sleep now,” I said. “I’ll clean up and be back in a bit.”
Glad to have a reason to get out of the room, I left her to rest, struggling to keep my own tears at bay. I couldn’t allow them to spill over in front of her.
Emptying the bucket into the toilet made my stomach roll. I sucked in a breath through my mouth then held it until I was out of the room. With an old broom from the closet, I started sweeping the kitchen floor. It felt good to have something to do at this moment. The only other option was to walk back into my mother’s room. But my mind was spiraling, and it needed to calm first.
With all the memories that had come back in a rush earlier, and with the panic I had felt, I found I could open the door to forgiveness. Even if it was only cracked open. Now that I didn’t have to see her sorrowful eyes, I wasn’t so sure if I fully wanted to walk through it.
It wasn’t like she could undo the past twelve years in which she’d completely kept out of my life. In which there hadn’t passed a single day that I hadn’t brooded over why she’d abandoned me.
But this was probably my last chance to find an answer to those nagging questions. If I closed the door now, she might die before she could ever tell me. And before I could tell her how much I had missed her in those lonely years.
I realized I’d stopped sweeping and was instead gazing at the blank wall. Heaving a long sigh, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I knew I needed to talk to her eventually, and it might as well be today. But first I needed to finish cleaning up the mess.
In the cupboard under the sink, I found a dustpan for the shards. I knelt on the floor and was wiping the broken glass onto the dustpan when the gauze around my hand snagged on the broom. Since there was no pain in the injured hand, I tugged one end loose and began un-wrapping the bandage. First slowly, and then faster as I noticed no sign of a burn underneath.
The gauze landed in a heap on the counter. I examined my hand, turned it in the light, and stroked it with my good fingers. Amazing. Julian said I had poured boiling water over it only yesterday. But my skin was completely intact. No blisters, no soreness. It was like nothing had happened to my hand at all.
Think.
The story he had told me last night seemed totally unfamiliar. So there was the off chance that none of it had, in fact, happened. But then again, everyone had been worried and bombarded me with questions when we had come home. My family had definitely seen me burn my hand before Julian took off to the hospital with me.
Once again it all came down to Julian. Something must have happened that he had refused to reveal. Oh boy, would he ever make sense to me? And when the hell was he going to come inside, goddammit? He should have checked on my mother over an hour ago. If he had performed his spooky alien healing on her, she would probably not have collapsed. A weird chagrin budded inside me, and I braced myself to give him a mouthful the minute he walked through the door.
Vigorously twisting the bandage into a tight bundle, I tossed it into the bin underneath the sink together with the shards of glass bottles. If Julian wouldn’t tell me his secret, it might be time to ask someone else. I leaned the broom against the credenza and strode back to my mother’s room.
But she was sound asleep. Her chest lifted and sank in a steady rhythm. I stopped three feet into the room, weighing my options. Leave and wait outside, or sit by her bedside and watch her sleep. After all, she might get sick again and need my help.
I tried to make no sound as I crossed to her bed and settled on the mattress. She heaved a sigh but didn’t wake up.
Hard to say how long I sat there, watching as she slept. But with a soft melody on my lips—the song she used to lull me to sleep with ages ago and which Julian had played for me on the piano—my head dipped forward, and I drifted off to sleep, too.
The feeling of someone’s eyes on me woke me a little later. But my mother’s eyes were still peacefully closed. Pain shot through my cramped neck as I raised my head to scan the silent room.
Julian stood in the doorway, thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans. The way his shoulder and head rested against the frame made me believe he’d been watching for a while.
Should I be grateful that he was finally here or angry that he hadn’t shown up sooner? I tilted my head back to the wall, deliberating, and eyed him through drowsy slits. My bottom lip stuck between my teeth, a sigh rolled off my chest.
The longing in his eyes was transparent. It made me wish he’d come closer, so I could wrap my arms around him and bury my face against his chest.
“Why didn’t you come to check on her this morning? What have you been doing for so long?”
“Giving you time.” His soft voice floated in the room.
As my mother stirred slightly, I turned to gaze at her. She probably felt his presence, too. Who wouldn’t? It was as if his aura penetrated me in waves with each breath I took. He might have been doing the same to her. Maybe she was afraid of him after their conversation last night. After all, she’d said her time was up.
“Is she going to die?” I asked him.
“Not today.”
So life and death really were in his hands. I took a shaky breath, steeling my nerves for the unbelievable. It was time to get a few answers. But I couldn’t find the courage or the right words to begin.
After a long pause, Julian straightened. He nudged his chin at my hands. “You removed the bandages.”
I inspected my hand from all sides then dropped it to my lap. “Yeah. Seems like it’s healed. That wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it?”
The weak smile he gave me made my heart flutter. He held out his hand to me. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
So the alien was ready to talk at last. As silently as possible, I rose and moved toward Julian. Warmth surged through me as he closed his hand around mine. But before we left, I cast a concerned look over my shoulder. “Will she wake up while we’re gone?”
“Don’t worry. She’ll be sleeping until I call her back.”
Ah, right. Master of minds.
The calm serenity he emitted enveloped me completely. And suddenly, I had the feeling of being a small child holding on to the hand of an older and much wiser being than I could grasp. A person who could decide between life and death, sleep and awake. Who could heal wounds, inflict happiness with a single touch, and for all I knew, might even be able to fly.
If it wasn’t for the immense amount of kindness rolling off him in waves, I would have been scared as hell. But right now, I looked at him with adoring eyes.
Julian led me outside and past the field. On the way he waved at Marie and let her know we were taking a little stroll but would be back in time for din
ner.
Behind the vineyards, we crossed a line of trees into a wooded area. In the shade of all the firs and spruces, a chill slid down my arms, reminding me that I was about to leave civilization behind and head to a place unknown with an alien by my side.
Julian surveyed me from the corner of his eye. “Are you cold?”
“Just a little.”
Heat ignited where our palms touched. The unusual warmth slowly soared up my arm. With each pound of my heart, it spread further through my body.
“How do you do that?” To my own amazement, my whisper didn’t reflect fear, only fascination. It also occurred to me that he might be doing some alien hocus pocus to keep me at ease.
Julian didn’t reply. But when we left the broad strip of woods and stepped into a wide meadow, his grip tightened. “Jona, can I ask you something?”
Shuffling through the ankle-high grass, I nodded, hoping to get my questions answered afterward as well.
“When you overheard your mother and me talking last night, and of course with the list you already started a few days ago, what have you concluded I am?”
Wariness settled in my sideways glance and tone. “Will you have to kill me if I’m right? Because if so, I’d rather not say.”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course not, silly.” Lifting the hand that held mine, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer as we strolled.
“Okay,” I drawled. “I think you’re an alien. Like Superman from Krypton. Just with different powers, you know.”
He frowned at me. “That’s your best guess?”
“I’m wrong?”
“Totally!”
A little ashamed of my assumption, I thought of the only other theory I had about him. “Apparently you can resurrect the dead. So, are you into voodoo?”
“No.” Now he seemed almost offended, but not in an angry way. “I thought you’d figured me out already.”
I frowned, my lips tight. Any normal person would have been freaked out by all this. At that point, I was pretty damn sure he was weaving his magic around me to keep me calm, or else I wouldn’t have been able to have this conversation. “Then stop playing games and just tell me where you’re from.”