by Eve Langlais
I had to be hallucinating.
“I think you should go lie down,” a worried Winnie suggested.
“Good plan.” A good night’s sleep in my bed would do just the trick.
The wide stairs came in useful as my son insisted on supporting me up, not trusting me to walk. I could understand the concern. I’d been flat on my back and unmoving for a month. Geoff probably assumed adrenaline kept me upright. I should have told him I felt too good to crash. Like, seriously awesome. I didn’t even remember the last time I’d felt this great.
Geoff brought me right to the edge of my bed, followed by Winnie, who hovered.
“I’m fine.” I tried to get rid of them.
“Let me get your shoes.” She dropped to her knees, and I waved her off.
“I can take them off myself. Go. Shoo. I’ll be fine.”
They protested.
Cute kids. But would they leave already?
In the safety of my room I wanted a peek at my nude body in a better mirror and light.
Selfish?
Yup.
I’d not looked this fit in more than twenty years. I wanted to enjoy it.
I stripped my ass naked and got a full-length look in my new tall mirror. I stared for a long while at the body I’d been hoping to eventually get. I’d entertained this dream that the store would do well enough that I could hire Winnie. Maybe even have enough to book myself in for a mommy makeover.
Plastic surgery to fix the things diet couldn’t. I’d done my research. Seen the pics and read all the threads. I’d known what to expect. The discomfort. The sleeping in a recliner for weeks as the stitches healed. The drains I’d have to monitor, easing fluid from my body. Why would anyone agree to be sliced and diced?
Unless you’d had to lift your tummy to wash under or had breasts that literally hung like tube socks it was hard to understand why anyone would do it. But I’d hated my body for so long that while I winced at the mastopexy procedure—mine would require an anchor cut that would remove excess skin and reattach the nipple (Can anyone say zombie nipple?)—the end result would be a firm boob that pointed forward.
Exactly what I saw in the mirror, done with magic and saving myself weeks of grief.
Cool. Along with my improvements, I saw the marks of my journey.
My appendix scar? Still a white slash on my side. My tummy, thighs, and breasts bore stretch marks. The hair down below curled a steely and dark gray. Say hello to the me I would have been if I’d not used food as a crutch.
Grisou parked his furry butt beside me, the big version.
Oddly enough, I didn’t fear him. That was my cat. Even if he was mega sized.
“Have you always been this big?” I asked, reaching over to ruffle the fur on top of his head.
Only to see in the mirror that my hand stretched oddly down to the short version being reflected. I stared at the glass then my cat. Then the mirror again as I held my hand above Grisou’s giant head and saw it reflected in a way that made me wince.
“I take it the secret is out.”
“Argh.” Yeah. That was my mature reply to my cat talking to me.
His giant eyes didn’t blink. He stared until I fidgeted.
“Are you going to eat me?” Asked every human before a massive set of jaws unhinged.
“Depends. Did you smuggle out any bodies? Or bring back the loose skin bits you lost?” My cat was definitely talking.
A part of me thought I should scream. But I was Naomi, who’d seen and used magic, faced down demons and The Chill. Was I really going to get freaked out that my pet could communicate?
“Since when can you talk to me?”
“Since the day we met. Not my fault you’re hard of hearing.” He licked a paw and slicked his fur back.
“How come I can hear you now?”
“Because you’re finally turning into the witch you were meant to be.”
“Making you my familiar.”
My cat hissed. “Implying I’m your slave. Not likely, witch.” That quickly, he went hostile.
Definitely my pet. How many times had I been petting him and he purred, only to suddenly attack? “If you’re not my familiar, then what are you?”
“None of your business.” Said with a haughty air.
“And here I thought we were best friends.”
“A best friend wouldn’t try and keep me locked up in the house.” Giant pussy pouted.
I snorted. “Since when has a door stopped you from getting outside?”
“The house isn’t always cooperative with my excursions.”
Interesting the cat spoke of the house as sentient. “Do you talk to the house?”
“Do you talk to the vacuum?” was his sassy reply.
“I used to talk to the robot one we had at my old house.” I wanted to be known as the polite human if Skynet ever did come to pass.
“That’s weird.”
“So is a talking cat.”
“Am I talking, or are you going crazy?” he purred.
I blinked, and I swear he smirked.
“No, I am not crazy,” I huffed.
“If we ignore the fact you’re talking to your pet.”
“Everyone talks to their pets,” I argued.
“How many of them reply?” He looked so damned smug, until he suddenly dove at his hindquarters for a fierce lick.
“You can’t be the only talking cat in the world.”
“Only special people can hear me.”
“Like who? Who else do you talk to?”
“Trish, and a few others. But soon many more will be able to hear my voice.”
“Speaking of Trish, I should call her. Let her know I’m home.” My best friend must have been so worried. So worried, she never came to see me in the hospital. Or maybe she had but I didn’t know because of the whole coma thing. Had to be.
I exited the bathroom naked and glancing constantly at my boobs. I poked a nipple for fun and watched it retract. It worked. Yay. I’d read stories about franken nubs, filed under the boob jobs gone wrong.
I skimmed a hand over my flat tummy. Flat. Damn. I couldn’t help but palm it.
Check me out. Darryl thought I’d come crawling back? Ha. Not with this body I wouldn’t.
I could see why women loved doing revenge videos. The next time he saw me, I totally wanted to make him regret his behavior and cruel words.
Knowing what I did now, I wished I’d given Kane a chance. He’d always seen me as desirable. If only he weren’t dead.
He’s not.
The certainty filled me. False hope, given what everyone said. But I clung to it. So long as there was no body, I could believe he lived. Lost in the woods. He’d return or be found. We’d make up and have sex. Lots of sex.
Naked-with-the-lights-on kind of sex.
I dressed in pajamas and glanced around for reading material. Nothing. Not even Grandma’s old books. Should I pop downstairs to grab something? Winnie told me to go to bed. Only I wasn’t tired. She’d give me heck if she saw me gallivanting around. She and Geoff were like clucking hens.
Gawd, I loved my kids. Nice to know they appeared to reciprocate.
I hesitated by the stairs. I was being a ninny. I had every right to go downstairs and get a book if I wanted to. It was my house.
I still snuck, slowing as I heard voices coming from the kitchen. Winnie and the deeper timbre of Jace.
“Pack your things. Come home with me, tonight.”
“You know I can’t leave her.” My kid still thinking I needed babysitting.
“Staying here with her will only make it harder in the long run,” he advised.
“She’s my mother.”
“A shitty mother, according to you.”
Wait, what? The blow of it hurt.
“It wasn’t all her fault. That bastard Martin didn’t help the situation.”
Since when did Winnie call her dad Martin? It hit me in a cold slap. She’d read the book. Oh God. I sat on the top
step, trying to not be sick.
“You can’t soften now. You know there’s no other real choice.”
“Yeah, I know.” I heard the rustle of fabric. I closed my eyes but still imagined her hugging Jace.
I wanted to rush down and confront them. Wanted to beg my daughter’s forgiveness and, at the same time, let her understand she didn’t have to stick around out of duty. Old me would have snuck back upstairs. New Naomi loudly thumped each step as I headed for the main floor.
By the time I could see the kitchen, Winnie stood by herself by the kitchen island. My daughter offered me a wan smile. “Mom, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I heard voices. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” My daughter lied.
My lips pinched. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Jace came over.”
“And?”
My daughter fidgeted. “Just discussing the fact that once you’re all better, maybe I should start looking for a new place.”
“You want to move out? I thought things were better between us.”
“They are, but—”
I interrupted. “Whatever it is, I can fix it. Please.” Desperate, yet it still came out of my mouth.
Her expression froze. “It’s not you, Mom. It’s…Ah… Jace asked me to move in with him.”
“Oh.” I pasted a bright smile on my face. “Guess things are going great then.”
“Awesome,” my daughter said woodenly. “Never better.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” I pointed out.
“I don’t think I should be leaving you right now, after everything you’ve been through.”
The reminder of my loss tightened my throat. “I’m fine. Never better, so don’t worry about me. Just came down for a drink.” I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and waved it. “I think I’m going to lie down.” I treaded heavily up the stairs before quietly sneaking back down a few steps so I could listen.
Sure enough, Jace returned. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“That was awkward,” my daughter muttered.
“Only because you feel guilt. It’s normal.”
Guilt about what? Because she’d hidden her relationship with Jace, or something else?
“I wish I didn’t have to keep it a secret,” Winnie lowly stated. “She deserves to know.”
To know what? Was there a bigger secret than her wanting to shack up with my neighbor?
“How will knowing the date of her death help?”
Death? What were they talking about? I almost marched down there to demand answers, but given they’d already blown me off once, I listened.
“I know telling her won’t help, but how can I keep pretending everything is okay when it’s not?”
“You can’t say anything.” Jace sounded quite firm. “What if she begs you to save her? What if she asks you to take her place?”
“She wouldn’t,” Winnie said softly.
“Do you really think your mother would sacrifice herself for you?”
The dead silence hurt most of all because I knew I’d do anything for my kids.
I crept up the stairs with those words ringing in my head.
What were Jace and Winnie talking about? Why did they both speak as if my death were a foregone matter?
Unless…maybe I didn’t fully heal from the accident. Maybe something inside me was broken. Unfixable.
Could Winnie be trying to spare me the news of a fatal cancer or other ticking time bomb?
Or was this related to the secret everyone tiptoed around?
It was enough to make me scream. But instead, after a good night’s sleep, I decided to go looking for answers.
25
I bounced down the stairs the next day, startling Winnie and Geoff, who both froze and eyed me as if guilty of conspiracy. Which they were. Something obviously ailed me, and they both knew about it. I could have been annoyed by their silence, or I could see it for the gesture it implied. A deep, abiding affection for me.
I appreciated it. I was their mother. They loved me, and I loved them. I’d give my life for them, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Geoff answered too quickly, turning to the stove and flipping bacon.
“How you feeling?” Winnie asked.
“Great for a dying woman.”
Her face blanched. Geoff’s shoulders tensed.
“What are you talking about?” Winnie whispered.
“You can stop pretending. I know something is wrong with me. Is it cancer?”
The relief on Winnie’s face was almost comical. “You don’t have cancer.”
“I heard you and Jace saying I was doing to die.” I admitted to my spying.
Winnie’s relief turned to caution. “You must have misunderstood.”
“Did I? Because you both sounded pretty certain about it.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Mom. Don’t you think if you were dying, we’d do something to stop it?”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
“Geoff, care to say something?” Because he’d remained cooking with his back to me.
“Actually, yeah, I do have something to say.” He whirled and presented a still sizzling slice of bacon on his spatula. “Breakfast?”
As if I’d say no. But I wasn’t done harassing my kids. “So if I’m not dying of cancer, what’s really going on? Does this have to do with the lake? Our family?”
Geoff opened his mouth as if to speak, but Winnie shook her head.
“I have a right to know,” I stated.
“Don’t talk to me about rights. I read Martin’s diaries.”
Ouch. “You shouldn’t have.” How I wished I’d burned them. Even dead, that bloody man was fucking shit up.
“I disagree. They were enlightening.”
“Winnie, about what you read—”
She cut me off. “I have to go.” She fled, and I let her go. How could I tell her I didn’t remember cheating on Martin? Didn’t know who might have fathered her?
Troubled, I had another piece of bacon and eyed my son. “I take it you read them, too.”
“Enough to wish I wasn’t related to this family.” And then he stalked off.
Everything always came back to my family and the secrets.
Grabbing a coffee, and more bacon, I fled to my room, munching the ambrosia of the gods. Crunchy. Salty. Yum. It didn’t cure my agitation.
Despite knowing they were gone, I peeked under the bed. Martin’s box was gone. But so were my grandmother’s books.
“Where are they?” I muttered as I paced my room, eyeing the shelves, peeking in the wardrobe and my drawers.
My cat, who took up a large portion of my bed, kept his eyes closed as he said, “The female child took the books.”
“All of them?”
The yawn my cat enjoyed provided an answer.
“Why did she take them?” Asked aloud even as I recalled the pages sliced out of the recipe book. What was in there that Winnie didn’t want me to see?
I wished I had someone to talk to.
Trish had yet to answer any of my texts. Marjorie’s phone remained silent, too. Had something happened to them?
“Do you know what’s going on?” I asked my cat. Not the first time, I should add.
“A lack of quiet,” was his complaint.
“Why can’t I ever get a straight answer?”
“People tried and you called them crazy. Refused for the longest time to believe. You reap what you sow.”
“Not helpful,” I grumbled. “I believe now.”
“Only because you were slapped by the evidence.”
“Evidence of what? Magic? Fine. But what about the rest? Why all the danger? The drama? Why does it feel as if I’m missing something important?”
My cat didn’t reply but tucked his head into his body.
“How can you sleep at a time like this?”
“By closing my eyes.”
“I can’t stay here all day. I need to get out.”
“Go where?” my cat demanded.
“As if I need to tell you.” Then again, Grisou did ask. “I thought I’d go into the shop, see what still needs to be done before reopening.”
“Not much point given it was condemned by the town.”
According to my knowledgeable feline, it was deemed unsafe after the fire. There went my plans to reopen anytime soon. The world appeared ready to knock me down, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. I’d find the money to rebuild.
I refused to stay in the house. I wandered down to the beach and the frozen lake. I don’t know what I expected to find. Maddy was dead.
Mom, Dad, Grandma, too.
My friends weren’t answering. My kids were hoarding secrets and had disappeared on me. And to top it off, Kane was missing.
I couldn’t just sit around waiting for answers. Time to go find some. I enlisted the aid of my lazy feline, because he was the only one I could trust right now, and besides, weren’t cats keen trackers?
“Grisou! I need your help.”
“I’m napping,” he reminded me as I did my best to tug his giant carcass off the bed.
“This is important.”
“So is my sleep,” he grumbled.
“I’ll stop by the butcher for some fresh fish.”
“How many kilos?”
“As many as it takes to get you in my car.” Which protested the moment he sat in the back. It had me asking, “How is it I never saw any of the clues before? I mean, the ass end of the car is sitting lower by at least a few inches.”
“Did you just call me fat?” His face wedged between the seats.
“No. I want to understand how you can fake being small.”
He smiled. Too many teeth in it. “Magic. Now drive, chauffeur witch. And not too fast so I can enjoy the scenery.”
“Have you always been this demanding?” Only to answer myself. “Yes, yes you have.” My own fault. I’d spoiled him as a kitten.
The crash site proved harder to find than expected. I drove by it twice before Grisou snapped, “Would you stop going back and forth? It’s right there. How blind are you?”
Apparently plenty because I never imagined the humped snow windrowed on the shoulder hid the site of an accident. One month of winter weather had concealed the marks of the crash.
