Luna had seen the purple-gray mass. That she was powerless to destroy it enraged her. “Don’t call it that!”
Tears sprang to Cira’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you hate that name.”
Luna burned with frustration. “It doesn’t deserve a name. It’s a thing. Just because it’s inside of you doesn’t mean it’s a part of you.”
She wished she could cry like Cira. Instead, emotions engulfed her until she felt suffocated. As much as Luna hated the last words Mama had spoken to her, in this moment, she believed them.
“Mama was right about one thing; it should have been me.”
“That’s not true. Mama didn’t really say that, did she?”
“Oh Cici, you have no idea. I think she’s been making you sick too.”
She watched her sister’s face crumble and instantly regretted her words. Cira was dying. The truth was useless now. Why can’t I leave well enough alone? Maybe Mama’s right, maybe I’m selfish.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
“Maybe it’s true.”
The unexpected admission left Luna speechless. She had always thought her sister oblivious to their mother’s transgressions.
“Do you think Mama gave me Med—the brain tumor?”
Luna shook her head. “I don’t think there’s any way … No, there’s no way.”
Cira’s lower lip trembled. Tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over, streaming down her cheeks.
Luna hovered closer. “What’s wrong?”
“If Mama didn’t do it, that means it’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Why would you think that?”
“Mama said my bad thoughts let it in.”
Luna flew to the ceiling and back again in a swirl of churning anger. “That’s not true. Mama shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why then? Was it God?”
“No one gave you cancer, Cici. Sometimes it just happens. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”
That night, from her perch atop the moon’s highest peak, Luna watched the sun sink below the endless horizon and contemplated what she was about to do. The thought of exploring her mother’s memories filled her with both dread and anticipation. She hoped her suspicions were proven wrong but needed to brace herself for what she might see.
Hours later, when stars gleamed against the midnight sky, Luna returned home.
Mama had fallen asleep in her clothes again and was sprawled across the blankets on her back, snoring lightly. Her head tilted to one side, and a line of drool dribbled from the corner of her open mouth. Tiny bits of ice still floated in the glass on the nightstand.
Luna hovered above the bed, battling conflicting emotions as she gazed at her mother’s face. How was it possible to both love and hate someone at the same time? And why had the hate intensified since Luna’s body died? This was why she had come here tonight— to find answers. There was no point in putting it off any longer.
Luna braced herself mentally and, before she could change her mind, flew into Mama’s head. Once inside, she pulled up sharply and stared in awe at the overwhelming tangle of memories. Countless threads of neurons hung suspended, like fluorescent spider webs floating in space.
She had learned from her foray into Cira’s mind that the oldest memories resided in the farthest recesses of the brain. That is where she began.
Maria sat on the floor beside a bed, brow knit in concentration as she printed crooked letters onto a piece of paper. She jumped up, face alight with excitement. “Mama, look! I printed my name all by myself.”
Empty eyes stared back at her from a gaunt, lifeless face. The little girl reached out and pulled on the hand hanging over the side of the bed. It was ice cold.
“Mama?” Her voice rose as she pulled harder. “Please, Mama.”
Strong hands circled her waist. “Come, Maria.”
She was pulled from the room as she continued to scream.
Luna now understood why Mama had never spoken of her mother. She moved onward, darting through insignificant memories until another caught her attention.
Maria fidgeted. She hated the dress nearly as much as that woman. The stiff petticoat and tights made her legs itch. She scanned the aisle toward the pulpit, where Papa stood waiting. He frowned at her in disapproval, and she pasted a smile on her face. She had promised him she would behave on his wedding day.
Later, at the reception, Papa’s new wife, Ana, made a speech. She pulled Maria tight against her side and announced how happy she was to have a stepdaughter.
“Smile,” she hissed in Maria’s ear, pinching the flesh behind the girl’s armpit.
Luna passed through memory after memory of her mother enduring Ana’s cruelties. The intense emotion of one in particular pulled her in.
“Leave me alone!” Maria shouted.
Ana’s voice followed her up the stairs. “Why weren’t you at school today? Where were you?”
Maria ran into her room, turned, and waited until her stepmother’s face appeared at the top of the stairs, then slammed the door closed.
It swung open immediately. Ana stood in the doorway, her delicate features twisted in anger. “Answer me.”
Maria said nothing.
Ana stepped closer. “I’m talking to you. Don’t you dare ignore me.”
Maria jutted her chin. “What will you do?”
“I’ll tell your father—”
“Tell him, what? More lies? I don’t care anymore.”
“Oh, you will care.” Ana stepped close, poking her finger into Maria’s chest. “You’ll care when I convince your father to send you away.”
Maria grabbed the finger and twisted.
Ana wailed, snatched her finger, and cradled it to her chest as she glared at Maria in disbelief. “How dare you?”
At fourteen, Maria stood a full head taller than her stepmother. She straightened to her full height.
“I’m not a little girl anymore, and I won’t let you hurt me again. Tell my father whatever you want. Have me sent away. I don’t care. Now get out of my room.”
Ana’s mouth hung open. She stood speechless and unmoving.
Stepping forward until their faces were inches apart, Maria stared into her stepmother’s eyes. “Get. Out.”
Ana blinked—as though woken from a dream—turned abruptly, and hurried from the room. Maria walked to the doorway to watch Ana’s retreat. A reluctant smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. She had done it. She had finally stood up to her.
Ana paused at the top of the stairs, turned, and looked at Maria. “I knew your mother, you know.”
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
“You were too young to remember, but I was her nurse. I looked after her when she was sick. That’s how I met your father.”
“Stop it.”
“He fell in love with me before she died.”
Maria’s fists clenched and unclenched at her sides. “I said, stop it.”
Ana smiled. “The first time we had sex was in their bed, with her in the next room, sleeping.”
“Liar!”
Maria charged blindly toward the stairs, her vision blurred by hot, angry tears.
The memory ended abruptly, jolting Luna to the present and causing her to panic. No, no, no. It can’t end like this. I need to know what happened. She jumped ahead to the next thread, praying the rest of the memory was there.
Maria sat, unmoving and silent, on the bottom step, watching blood seep from between her stepmother’s legs. Ana stirred and groaned. She attempted to shift the leg twisted beneath her and screamed in pain. Her eyes widened. She reached between her legs, then held her bloody hand in front of her face.
“No. Oh no. Please God, no.” Her glassy eyes darted around the room and came to rest on Maria. “Help me. The baby …”
Maria’s gaze moved to the blood, then back to Ana’s face. “Baby? You’re pregnant?”
A tear slid down Ana’s face into her hair. She n
odded. “It was too early to tell anyone. There’s too much blood. I’m losing the baby. Please—”
The door swung open and Maria’s father entered.
Emotionally exhausted but determined to finish, Luna skimmed through the next decade of memories. After the incident with Ana, Maria was sent to a detention center for girls, and her father disowned her.
Her beauty and arrogance did not serve her well with the other girls, and she quickly learned to fake illness in order to find refuge in the infirmary. The nurse, Rosa, took Maria under her wing and showered her with attention, often gushing about how much she resembled her deceased daughter.
When Maria left the center four years later, Rosa took her in, helped her find a job, and introduced her to her son, Antonio.
Luna scanned quickly to the day she and Cira were born. Right from birth, they were so different from each other. Cira was calm and content, whereas Luna cried incessantly. Mama couldn’t take it and left Luna’s care to the nanny, while she doted on Cira.
Shortly after her first birthday, Cira developed breathing problems and was hospitalized frequently with asthma attacks and pneumonia. Mama spent days at a time with Cira at the hospital. She thrived on the attention from the staff—people she worked with—and soon craved it.
Maria was bored and restless. Antonio had left that morning, after being home for more than a month. He had spent all his spare time with the girls. Not that she cared; she had long ago stopped needing his attention. But it had been nearly two months since Cira had been sick, and Maria missed the commotion of the hospital. She missed feeling important.
She went to the bathroom and took the eye drops out of the cabinet. It was time to make Cira one of her special drinks.
Luna watched her mother slowly poison Cira. Some of the memories were familiar. At the time, she had been too young to understand what was happening, and when she grew older, Mama was wise enough to hide it from her. But Luna had vague memories of Mama mixing strange drinks for Cira or crushing pills to mix into her food.
Now she realized how truly obsessed her mother was. Short snippets of memories flashed by as Luna wove her way quickly through threads: Mama withholding puffers while Cira wheezed and struggled to breathe; sneaking into Cira’s hospital room to inject something into her intravenous tube; watching with a smile while Cira’s tiny body convulsed; the lies sliding so easily from her lips when the nurses asked questions.
And they had all believed her. Papa, the nanny, the nurses, the doctors had all been fooled by her love and devotion for Cira.
Overcome with emotion, Luna left the tangles and hovered beside them. She fought the urge to leave and find peace and solace in the light of the moon. Fleeing would be so much easier than confronting that one last memory. But she had to see it.
She had to know what had happened the night she died.
Luna stared into space from her mountaintop peak on the moon. She had been there for days, trying to process what she had seen. The memory ran through her mind like a movie. But it wasn’t Mama’s memory; it was her own.
Her feet slipped on the bottom of the tub and she fell. She heard a CRACK! Sharp pain shot through her head and the world faded. Her eyes snapped open when she regained consciousness. She tried to breathe but inhaled a mouthful of water. Panic set in. She struggled against the weight on her chest and sucked in more water.
After a moment, Luna’s struggles ceased and peace consumed her. The churning water settled, and through the last few air bubbles, she was able to see the hand on her chest. Her gaze traveled the length of the arm and rested on her mother’s face.
Seeing the incident first from Mama’s viewpoint had stirred something in the deep recesses of Luna’s mind and shook loose memories she didn’t even know existed. She had bolted from Mama’s head and flown blindly to the moon, where she had been ever since.
“Mama killed me,” she repeated over and over as the scenario unfolded in her head. Each time she said the words, her fury grew, until she could no longer contain her anger.
She soared into space, twisting and darting for hours around stars and planets, until the rage receded. When her composure returned, she headed toward Earth. She needed to tell Cira what she had seen.
Luna swooped through the darkness into Cira’s room. She pulled up quickly and hovered near the ceiling, shocked to see Papa asleep in the armchair beside the bed. She descended to his level and memorized his features.
Oh Papa, I miss you so much.
Despite how much time he had spent away from them, she had never doubted his love for her.
Cira coughed and Luna hurried to her side. A clear mask covered the girl’s face from nose to chin. Her breath sputtered with short, shallow puffs. The soft hiss of oxygen filled the silence.
I’ve stayed away too long.
Feeling helpless and despondent, Luna flew behind the curtains and settled into the window seat to wait.
Shortly after dawn, a nurse entered to wake Papa and send him to bed. Hours later, when Cira was finally alone, Luna rushed to the bed and whispered her sister’s name.
Cira’s eyes blinked open but remained unfocused. “Luna?”
Luna materialized. “I’m here. What happened?”
Cira’s words slurred together the way Mama’s did when she was drunk. “I had a seizure—a bad one. I stopped breathing for a long time.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s okay. There was nothing you could do.” Her eyes illuminated. “Papa’s here!”
“I know. I saw him.”
Cira pulled a dark-haired doll from beneath the blanket. “He brought me a new doll. He cried when I told him I named her Luna.” Her expression turned somber. “Did you find out about Mama?”
“We don’t need to talk about it right now.”
“Tell me.”
“No, we’ll talk—”
“No, now. Please, Lulu.” Tears welled up in Cira’s eyes. “There isn’t much time.”
Luna hesitated. What good would it do now to tell Cira the truth? It would only upset her. “Mama would never hurt you. She loves you more than anything in the world.”
“She didn’t make me sick?”
“No.”
A tear spilled from the corner of Cira’s eye. “I prayed it wasn’t true, but Mama says God doesn’t always give us the answer we want. Like Med—the cancer. I prayed for that not to be true too.”
“I know. So did I.”
“What will happen when I die?”
I don’t know. “I’ll build us a house out in space, and we’ll live there together.”
Cira smiled. “Love you, Lulu.”
“Love you too, Cici. To the moon and back.”
After Cira’s funeral, Papa left for good. Mama stayed in bed for days, wrapped in darkness. When she finally emerged, she roamed the house aimlessly, the glass in her hand never empty. She avoided Cira’s bedroom, and the door remained closed.
Luna drifted from room to room, following Mama, waiting for the right moment to reveal herself.
Revenge had not been her goal when she first returned to Earth. Even after recalling the memory of her murder, all Luna wanted was to keep her promise to her sister. But now that Cira was gone, Luna burned with the need for vengeance.
When Mama started up the stairs, Luna flew to the top and floated outside Cira’s bedroom. She focused all her energy on the doorknob, willing it to turn.
The door swung open just as Mama reached the top step. She hesitated, one hand on the banister, drink in the other. The crease between her brows deepened. She looked into her drink, then back at the door. Finally, with a shrug, she pulled herself up the last step and staggered toward Cira’s room.
Luna pushed the door closed. With a gasp, Mama stumbled backward and grabbed the railing. The door banged open, and Luna materialized, looming in the doorway. Mama screamed. The glass flew from her hand and over the railing, shattering on the floor below. She fell onto her backside and sc
uttled into the corner.
“Why, Mama? Why did you do it?”
Mama’s face fell into her hands. “It’s not real. Please, God, make it go away.”
Luna dropped downward until her face hung inches from her mother’s. “Look at me.”
She shook her head, refusing to look up.
Luna pleaded in a soft voice. “Mama, please. It’s me, Cira.”
Mama became still and peeked through her fingers.
Luna shifted into skeletal form. Bits of rotting flesh hung from the bones. Empty eye sockets glowed red with rage. Her voice became a low growl. “We know what you did.”
Shrieks of terror echoed through the house. Mama scrambled to her feet, ran down the hallway and into her bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it. Gasping for breath, she slumped against the wall and closed her eyes.
Luna faded, crept through the door, and whispered in Mama’s ear. “I’m here.”
“No!” Mama’s eyes snapped open and darted around the room, searching for Luna. “Where are you? Show yourself.”
Luna shifted, becoming nothing more than a dark shadow. Mama’s breath came in short bursts. She yanked the door open and ran from the room.
Spurred on by her mother’s fear, Luna shot down the hallway behind her. She circled Mama in a blur, leaving a dark haze in her wake. Like a cyclone, Luna spun higher, lifting Mama over the railing toward the vaulted ceiling. As the rage within consumed her, she whirled faster.
Mama’s screams turned to pleading. “Please, Luna, don’t hurt me.”
Luna paused. For one surreal moment, they hung suspended before spiraling downward. She dropped her mother to the floor, materialized fully, and gazed intently into her eyes.
“I’m nothing like you.”
Luna faded. Her formless soul flew through infinite space and time—through the delicate light of trillions of stars—into the universe beyond.
She awoke to the tickle of soft grass against her skin. The sweet scent of wildflowers perfumed the air. Her eyes blinked against the brilliance of a sun so radiant its heat permeated her essence.
Luna caressed the smooth skin on her face and ran her fingers through her hair. Excitement built in her chest. She placed a hand there and smiled when her heart thumped against it. Sitting upright, she skimmed her hands up and down her arms. She threw her head backward and laughed, then jumped to her feet, flung her arms wide, and danced through the meadow.
A Haunting of Words Page 13
