by Lila Felix
ALL LUCENT BIRTHS MUST BE RECORDED BY THE SYNOD WITHIN TEN DAYS.
Flashing, to me, was like a jewel I continued to polish and shine. I could now slide gracefully into the driver’s seat of a parked car, the pew of an abandoned chapel, a conspicuous phone booth, or my chair at the dining room table without a sound.
Most Lucents could only flash once or twice a year, but I’d stretched my talent to its borders—and found it limitless.
My mom screamed, “Colby, you really should give me some warning. I swear you scare the shit out of me when you do that.”
She held her chest in panic and I quickly squelched the laugh that threatened to bubble up at her dramatics.
“Sorry, Mom. Mr. Sato started asking me questions, so I had to duck out early before he completely wigged.”
She grabbed Mr. Sato’s invisible neck with her hands, choking him hypothetically. “Why do they do that? Do they think we’re just going to have a seat in one of their modern-glass office chairs and give an exclusive interview? It never fails. They need to learn to accept the delivery, pay up, and shut up.”
She flitted about the kitchen while she spoke. We were kinda like birds in that we tried to eat very little to stay as light as possible. I’d gained twenty pounds in my phase of rebellion, and when I’d finally flashed again, well, let’s just say it had taken a little more effort than usual.
“I’m really not hungry, Mom. I picked up some soup in the city.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just eat some salad. And by the way, Ari called, she wanted to know your decision about Friday night—some club called Orion’s Belt?”
I laughed at her exuberance. My mom would be the first one in that club. She was a clubber type.
My mom was more of a friend than a mother. She still strongly resembled a woman in her thirties and dressed like a conservative teen. Our hair was exactly the same in color, sandy blonde. But where hers was straight and shined like glass, mine puffed out in curls that I barely managed to contain after ten bottles of product.
Eventually, I just stopped trying.
“It’s in Spain, right in the middle of Madrid, underground. You’ve been there, Mom. It’s just another European club—nothing special. But she saw this guy there, so she wants to go back and see if she can spot him again.”
“Madrid, huh?”
“Yes, Madrid. But I probably won’t go. How about you and I go to Costa Rica or maybe the Caymans?”
She said nothing and I knew why. It was a running silent argument, had been since the day Theo and I had split up. She just couldn’t contain herself for very long, so once in a while, she’d politely sneak it into regular conversation.
Or just blurt it out like right then.
I groaned. “Just say it.”
She sat down beside me, holding a white bowl with various julienned vegetables shimmering a bit from a drizzling of olive oil and lemon juice.
“I was already married by the time I was your age. It’s possible, you know, marriage, family. Just because Lucent females are travelers, doesn’t mean we can’t have some stability. Our husbands give us a home to return to—a home that isn’t a place, but a person to belong to.”
The older female generations called it traveling—called themselves travelers. But it sounded like a convoy of gypsies to me and my generation had more readily adopted the term flashers. Plus, the word flashers was more fun. And flashing sounded—naughty. The term earned giggles from pre-pubescent Lucents and scolding glares from the older ones. It was a win-win.
“I’ve heard this lecture, Mom. I just—can’t right now.” My mom knew nothing about why Theo and I weren’t together anymore, and it was safer all the way around if she didn’t—that was the whole point of this exercise—to keep all of them safe and at a safe distance from me and my antics. She was hinting, not so subtly, at the fact that Theo had spent the summer in Madrid. She probably didn’t know he’d moved on.
She changed the subject quickly. “I haven’t been to Belize in years. Maybe we should just go there. You love it there.” We tried very hard not to fight. There were a lot of things that could go wrong when you traveled through chasms of space. You could get stuck. You could get misdirected. You could get caught—any of us could get caught.
I got up from the table and scooted my chair under it. “Let’s leave Friday morning—spend the weekend.”
“Sounds good. Sleep tight, Colby. I love you more than time and space.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I trekked down the hall toward my room and paused midway to let my fingers glide along the last picture of my dad. It was a selfie we’d taken the day before he had gotten on the plane. He was ecstatic to see Portugal for the first time. He and Mom were going to have a second honeymoon. He was happy. I was happy. We were invincible.
And then he was gone.
I headed straight for the shower. I didn’t stink per se, but I always smelled like the last place I’d been. It was disconcerting to say the least. It made me forget what country I was in. Peeling off the leather pants, I reveled in my freedom as the hot water deflated my hair and cascaded down my back. Most people, excluding my mother, and from what I’d heard, my grandmother, were exhausted after flashing. But I was exhilarated, alive from the core of my body to the electrical pulses in my brain.
I washed Japan from my skin and then brushed my teeth to the beats of Moby. My landline rang, and I knew it was Ari. She was one of only a few who knew the number.
I plopped on my bed, still wrapped in my gray towel, and answered the phone, “Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of—Colby Evans—please leave a message after the tone.”
She laughed before replying. “It’s really scary how good you are at that customer service voice. You’d think you were human.”
“You’re such a snob. And by the way, no, I’m not going to Spain. Mom and I are going to Belize for the weekend.”
“That’s fine. I’m thinking about not going myself. Think Sable would mind if I tagged along?”
“Not at all. We’re leaving Friday morning.”
“I’ll be there. Later, babe.”