An Artificial Sun

by Shafer, Gina

  The only thing I’m keeping is the bedroom set, something I wouldn’t part with. My parents bought it for me when I first moved away to college. I stand in front of it, running my fingertips over the cream-colored wood. I remember how it barely fit in the tiny room Maggie and I first moved into. It’s a blend of old Victorian carvings and sharp modern edges. I love it. There are a few notches in it now, which only make it better. I would no sooner part with it than I would get rid of Coconut.

  Nutty rubs against my ankles, meowing for a treat.

  “I got you, Nutty,” I say, going to the almost bare kitchen, grabbing the treat bag, and sprinkling a few of the salmon-flavored treats against the dark hardwood. He scarfs them up, filling his mouth and crunching on the bits that fall. Messy cat. I stroke his white fur from head to tail.

  “Don’t be mad at me, but we’re going on a car ride the day after tomorrow, and things are going to change.” I feel his purr under my palm. Something tells me he wouldn’t be so happy if he could understand my words. Coconut hates car rides.

  * * *

  I’ve listening to Nutty screech at the top of his lungs for nearly four hours straight, and I’m pretty sure my ears are bleeding. Actually, do I even have ears anymore? If I do, they’re shriveled up in fear that I’ll reach up and tear them off at any minute.

  “I’m sorry. We’ll be there soon,” I say for the thousandth time. It’s taken me almost double the time it usually takes for this trip. I stopped on three different occasions when Coconut’s screeches got so loud, I was pretty sure he was dying. But as soon as I unlatched the crate, he hid under my suitcase. I was on the side of the road for a while, dangling salmon treats in an attempt to coax him out. He succeeded in fooling me two more times, until I caught on to his trickery.

  On top of all the crazy cat stuff, I’m towing a small trailer with my tiny car. I look ridiculous, going the minimum speed in the slow lane, terrified of the damn thing.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up on the local news.

  Crazy cat lady moves four hours away and almost loses her mind.

  As I near my parents’ beach house, I take a moment to survey the homes around them. The neighborhood is just as beautiful today as it was when they first bought the place. The houses back right up to the ocean. I’ve always loved it here. The ocean as a backyard. I sigh just thinking about it. I stop in front of my parent’s house, park the car, and take a few deep breaths, reveling in the fact that Coconut has finally stopped meowing. Or death howling. I mean, whichever.

  When I peek into the backseat, I notice the fur ball has curled up and fallen asleep, the little butthead.

  I decide to leave him in the crate for now. He probably needs the sleep after what we’ve been through. I pick up the crate and walk it to the front door, placing it gently at the corner of the wrap-around porch and back away slowly, mentally high-fiving myself when he doesn’t stir.

  “What are you doing out here, Whitley?”

  I startle, clutching my palm to my chest when I hear his voice. “Dad, you scared the hell out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “I wasn’t expecting you to be standing out here. You told me you’d call when you got close.”

  “I remember, but I don’t think you would have heard me over this rabid animal here.” I point to the crate as I move toward Dad.

  He chuckles and pulls me in for a hug, and I soak in his warmth for a minute. He always did give the best hugs.

  “You want some help unloading, Whitley-bug?” He asks, and it’s my turn to chuckle. Whitley-bug. Another nickname. How easily we fall back into place. I nod and turn to the car, snatching the key to the trailer from my pocket. As I slide the door up, he whistles.

  “Whew. I can’t believe you still have this thing,” he says, pulling out pieces of my bed frame. I was able to keep most of it together, so only a few pieces need to be screwed together to set it back up.

  “What do you mean? I’ll never get rid of it. When I’m filthy rich, I’m thinking of buying every piece of this furniture set ever made and hiding them in my giant mansion so no one else can get their hands on it.” I laugh.

  “When you’re filthy rich, eh?” He chuckles. He knows I’m not serious, that money isn’t the most important thing in the world. They raised me to value so much more than money.

  “That would be difficult, since we had this one custom-made.” He yanks the mattress to the curb.

  I didn’t know they went through that much trouble for me.

  Because you’re selfish, I hear in my mind.

  “Let me help you with it then,” I say, gripping one end of the mattress and letting Dad lead the way into the house and through the hallway, then finally into the room I’ll be staying in. He must have cleaned it out, because it’s completely empty other than the floor mirror in a corner of the room.

  It takes about a dozen trips to get everything situated, then he offers to turn in the U-Haul trailer. I toss him my keys and drop down on the bed.

  I hear something shuffling outside my bedroom door: a distinct meow and my mother’s voice.

  I crack the door open. Mom’s standing there with Coconut in her hands. He snuggles into the comfort of her arms.

  She looks at me. “I found a stray.” She pats the top of Nutty’s head.

  “Oh, Mama, that’s not a stray, that’s Coconut. My cat.” I say, reaching out to give him a scratch under the chin.

  “I don’t like cats,” she says, holding him out, the affection she had for the animal gone.

  “You’ve had a lot of cats,” I remind her, taking Nutty and holding him close. I’m the one searching for comfort now.

  “Just don’t bring him near me,” she huffs.

  I don’t know what to say, so I offer something simple enough that I hope will pacify her. “I’ll keep him in my room.”

  She shuffles into my bedroom, peering around like she’s looking for something.

  Coconut nuzzles my chin, and I give him a squeeze, soaking up the warmth from his fur. Mom adjusts the chair by my desk, fiddling with the angle, though she isn’t strong enough to lift it.

  “Do you want something to eat?” I ask her.

  “What?” She says, startled out of her own little world.

  “I can make you a snack,” I offer again.

  “Okay.”

  I place Nutty on the floor and close the door behind us as we leave.

  She sits at the kitchen table and watches me, like she doesn’t understand what I’m doing. I don’t want to upset her, so I continue my task. I slice up an apple and dab a little bit of peanut butter on the plate for her to dip it into.

  As she hesitantly takes the first bite, I suddenly realize how truly difficult this is going to be, watching my mother’s mind waste away.

  I wake suddenly, my eyes heavy in the darkness. There’s a solemn exhaustion clouding my body, but my mind is completely alert.

  A sound is coming through the window above my bed, like muffled words. It almost feels like there’s wet cotton in my ears. I peek out through the blinds. Thankfully, a small side yard light illuminates the space between our house and the neighbor’s.

  There’s a girl, clearly not much older than seventeen, if that. She’s facing a man whose back is toward me. He seems older, maybe a little older than me. She looks angry, and her mouth moves in hurried motions, like she can’t get the words out fast enough. She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, waiting for the man to speak. I can barely make out his mumbling, but I don’t have to guess that he’s pissed, and she isn’t taking it well.

  Her mouth turns down, and she wipes her cheeks angrily. Whatever he said, he made her terribly upset. Hurt like that doesn’t just happen from a few heated words. That girl knows heartbreak. I sink back down in bed, having had enough snooping. Whatever is going on between the neighbors is clearly private.

  I lay there for a few minutes, hearing their muffled voices grow louder, and curiosity gets the better of
me. I sneak this time, crouching like a fool and opening the blinds to get a better look.

  The man is pointing at the house next door, shoving his finger in the air like he wishes there was someone in front of it and it was a fist instead. He shifts and I get a look at his profile and a glimpse of his eyes. Harsh. So piercing a shiver runs down to my toes.

  Coconut pounces on me, making me jump and the blinds knock against the window. Shit.

  I duck my head as he starts to turn. The girl, though—her eyes go straight to the window before I can get out of view. I don’t think she sees me, considering how dark it is in here, but they definitely know someone was watching them.

  My heart is lodged in my throat. I lay under the breeze of the ceiling fan, trying to calm my nerves but wanting desperately to become one with the mattress. Disappear inside of it. How embarrassing.

  After a few minutes pass, and I haven’t heard their voices, I carefully inch the blinds open just enough to see out. My finger is shaking.

  There’s no one there anymore. I sigh with relief.

  Let’s just hope the neighbors aren’t the type to hold a grudge.

  I ease down into bed and reach for my phone. I’ve had it turned off since dinner with my parents. I called Maggie when I first arrived to let her know I got here safely. I ignored a couple of messages from my old boss letting me know I’d already been replaced and that I’m not welcome there anymore. Before I left, I swung by the office and handed in my keys and paperwork I had been working on. I felt guilty, dropping it on someone else’s shoulders, but Ray wasn’t lying when he said I was lucky to get that job. We receive hundreds of new applications every day, and our jobs were nowhere near secure.

  When the screen lights up, I flick my thumb across it, noting the time: 6:00 a.m. The sun should be up soon. Most people would be happy about that. Not me. The sun and I are enemies.

  I check the few social media and news apps that I have installed first. But the fake happy smiles and horrific news stories quickly become overwhelming. I don’t mess around on the phone too often, but I do keep a couple of games on it for when I need a distraction. Right now, I’m just trying to get my mind off of my own stupidity.

  I launch little balls across the screen, lining them up with their corresponding colors. I’m not sure how long I lay here, but long enough to register the sunlight peeking in through the window and for Coconut to get feisty, wanting to be let out.

  I jump a little when I hear a tap on my door.

  Sliding out of bed, and throwing on a loose cardigan to cover the chill on my arms, I cross the floor and open the door.

  It’s Dad, and he looks concerned.

  “Whitley, can you hold down the fort for awhile? Your mom has a doctor’s appointment at eight. We should be back around lunchtime. Is that all right?” he asks. I nod and glance at the phone still in my hands: 7:30 a.m.

  “I uh, didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks, sounding almost embarrassed.

  “I’ve been awake for a while but haven’t had the chance to actually wake up, if you know what I mean.” I smile, opening my door wider to let Coconut dash out of my room. Then I freeze, remembering what Mom said yesterday about the cat. I squeeze past Dad in a hurry, screeching to a halt when I see her sitting in the living room, reaching down to give Coconut scratch on his chin. I sigh in relief as Dad, who must have followed my mad dash, shoots me a questioning look.

  “Hey, Mama, you’re beautiful today.” I tell her, side-stepping the furniture and kneeling on the other side of Nutty.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  “Carol, sweetheart, remember we’re going to the doctor today?” he tells her. I’ve never heard my father talk so mildly. Maybe to a baby. Is that how my mother is treated now? Like an infant? The thought terrifies me.

  I still need my mother. This can’t be it for her.

  “Do I need a—”

  What is she trying to say?

  “A sweater? No, it’s nice today,” Dad says, stepping in with ease.

  “What?” she asks.

  “I said it’s a nice day,” he repeats. She nods. “I’ll just go grab the keys.”

  I follow him into the kitchen. I always loved it in here. The dark wood cabinets, blending with the white countertops and the splashes of green everywhere make it easier to breathe. This is my favorite spot in the house.

  “How often does this happen?” I ask, once we’re out of earshot. He scoops up his keys and puts them in the front pocket of his slacks.

  “I don’t really have an answer for you. Sometimes she can hardly get through an entire day without a breakdown and frustration.” He pauses, bringing his travel mug full of coffee to his lips before looking at my face. “Today is, for lack of a better word, a good day. Lets just be thankful for it, okay?” It sounds more like an order.

  I nod and make myself a cup of coffee with lots of cream and sugar. “What’s with the neighbors next door? I heard them arguing early this morning.,” I ask, changing the subject. I tilt my head to the west side of the house, indicating which neighbor.

  “You mean Nicholas? I’ve never heard a peep from him. Sometimes he gives me a hand around the house with things I can’t lift by myself. Who was he arguing with?”

  “I’m not sure. He was standing between our houses with a teenage girl. I couldn’t hear much, but they definitely didn’t look happy.”

  His eyes widen in understanding. “That’ll be Rose.” He shakes his head and lets out a sigh.

  “Rose?” I ask. Clearly Dad knows these people well, though I’ve never heard a word about them until now.

  Not that surprising, Whitley. You didn’t even know how bad your mom was doing.

  “She’s his sister and full of attitude, that one.”

  “Hm,” I say, leaving the conversation where it is. I’m not going to pry, and I’m sure I’ll meet all the neighbors in time.

  By the time Mama is dressed correctly, it’s almost eight. They’ll be late for her appointment. I offer to call the doctor’s office and let them know, but my dad shrugs it off and tells me he’ll call on the way. They leave in no rush, with him sipping the rest of his coffee almost leisurely. Maybe they’re used to this sort of thing.

  One thing that has become crystal clear is that my parents accepting my help is going to be a lot harder than I anticipated.

  * * *

  I shouldn’t be at the beach. I should be inside researching Alzheimer’s, like I have been for the past hour. But as I scrolled though my laptop, reading the horror studies about how so many parents, grandparents, and loved ones withered away and eventually succumbed to this illness, I couldn’t take it anymore. The open house suddenly felt more like a tiny cardboard box. I was suffocating.

  I had to get out, and where better to go than the ocean?

  I take a deep breath, sucking the warm sea air into my lungs. It smells like salt, and I love it. It’s slightly overcast, one of those moments when the clouds protect me from the sun.

  It isn’t until the sun peeks through the clouds and blinds me that I’m reminded again why I hate summer so much. The tiny beads of sweat on my brow that I found so refreshing only a few moments ago, make me feel sticky and disgusting.

  I’m about to return inside, spinning on my heel, when I almost run into someone standing right behind me.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” I say in a rush, my heart beating fast. It’s a young girl in her teens. It takes a minute to recognize where I know her from, and then I realize it’s Rose.

  “You have a cat, right?” she asks, arms crossed. Her tone is so bitchy that it brings me up short.

  “Yes.” I’m not in the habit of letting teenagers speak so disrespectfully to me, but being caught peeping on them in the middle of the night makes me flush with embarrassment.

  “You need to keep it away from my house,” she says, nodding at the two-story next to my parents’ place.

  “I’m allergic. Severely. So don
’t bring the fleabag around and don’t let him out,” she says, turning around so quickly, her long black hair almost smacks me in the lips.

  “He doesn’t have fleas!” I call after her, following her from a distance. I mean, really? That was the best comeback I could come up with? Maggie would be so disappointed.

  “Whatever.” She waves a hand behind her, dismissing me.

  My anger grows. “You know, you could have asked nicely,” I spit at her, branching off back to my parents’ house. She stops in her tracks, making me think she has more to say. Maybe an apology?

  “You’re right,” she says. “Please keep that disgusting fleabag away from me. Thank you.”

  Well, at least she said please and thank you.

  I go back inside, ignoring the smug look she sends me.

  “Nutty, we already have enemies,” I whisper as Coconut rushes over when I slide the glass door closed.

  I refuse to allow a moody teenager to ruin my mood. Nope, I can do that all on my own.

  I decide to see how I fair venturing into town for a little stroll.

  Apparently there is so much more wrong with me than I ever considered, which is why I’m sitting on this stool instead of facing reality. I haven’t been here long, but I sort of wandered in here after my walk.

  I slipped on my tennis shoes and left my parents’ house, hoping to clear my head and learn my way around. About a mile west from the house is a small shopping center with a grocery store, seafood restaurant, bank, library, and bar. I choose the bar.

  “Margarita?” a man says in my ear, and I spin to face him. His perfectly straight white teeth are the first thing I notice, followed by his smooth olive skin, high cheekbones, and almond-shaped brown eyes.

  “Excuse me?” I ask, clearing my throat and straightening.

  “You look like you’ve been waiting a while for a drink.” He laughs, motioning toward my empty hands.

  “Oh, yeah. I hadn’t noticed. Kind of lost in thought.” I smile as he takes the seat next to me.