Reflection

by Lynn Moon

  Abeytu sets his beer on the counter and nods. His voice is firm but caring.

  “Journey is expected to begin lectures in a few weeks. Classification is a requirement, not an option. Whether you agree or not, George, you must speak to her—tonight. Do not make this harder for either of you. The unexpected is never pleasant.” Abeytu pauses before adding, “She has been through enough disappointment already. Do not add to her pain.”

  George sighs and frowns. Abeytu turns and with that weird little limp walks out the door toward me. I smile. His head just barely grazes the top of the doorframe. When I glance down, I see that his bathrobe brushes along the tops of his sandals.

  Feeling brave, I speak to him. “You didn’t like that beer, did you? If you don’t like the taste, why drink it?”

  His warm amber eyes blink at me. “It is only proper to partake when invited. We must always show respect while in another’s home. Please excuse me, Miss Journey, I have pressing duties elsewhere.” He nods to the left and limps toward his bright yellow truck.

  A cool breeze ruffles my hair and I cringe. It reminds me of that stranger I saw in my mirror several months ago. To pull myself away from the painful memory, I rub the back of my neck and stare at Abeytu as he limps away. His truck strains to make it back up the hill. For an old beater, it’s awfully quiet. I strain, but I still can’t hear the engine. Maybe the wind is blowing the sound in the other direction, or maybe the mountains are absorbing the noise. My dad stands in the doorway and looks at me. Instead of feeling warm and secure, my heart hardens a little because I just don’t wish to talk right now.

  “We need to talk,” he says.

  “Are you a mind reader?”

  “Excuse me?” he replies with a puzzled look.

  I smile and shake my head. “Nothing, Dad,” I lie.

  Although I want to know what’s going on, I also do not want to know. Indecision and avoidance—my major flaws.

  “May I?” he asks pointing to the empty seat next to me.

  I reluctantly nod. As he sits, I turn away. There’s nothing to do but swing. I stare at my soda and wish I was someplace else. At the same time the moment is oddly special—a contradiction, just like my life. Dad hooks his fingers through mine and his eyes make me want to yell at him.

  “Journey,” he begins, “I need you to see something. Walk with me, sweetheart?”

  “Walk where?” I ask, staring at him. It’s all show. Even though I was angry with him. I love him more than anything in the world.

  “It’s important. I know you’re hurting. But I’d like to help you feel a little better, if you’d let me.”

  I want to rip his eyes out and scream at him. Tell him how terrible he was for leaving us. Tears well up in my eyes, but I can’t cry. He does not deserve my tears.

  “There’s so much I want to say. I don’t know the right words. But I can promise you that I’ll never leave you or your sister again.”

  He looks sincere, but something keeps telling me not to let my guard down. I shake my head. If I try to talk now I’ll only break down and cry. He takes a stronger grip of my hand and stands. As usual, my heart melts. He’s winning and I’m getting furious. I jump up even though my mind’s protesting with every heartbeat.

  Dad whistles for my sister who runs to him. She’s happy living in her own little world. He’s giving her the security she needs. I’m grateful for that. But I will never forgive him.

  The three of us follow a small trail that runs through the trees and up the ridge behind our cabin. Foliage of various colors and the sounds of small animals scurrying about sooth my nerves… a little. Ferns as tall as my five foot six body tower over me.

  “I don’t remember Colorado having plants like these.” I trail my hand through their fronds as we walk past. The trees also seem taller than I remember—too big. Nothing looks familiar. I feel lost as my fear wells up from inside–my personal internal alarm system. Sometimes I have the tendency to overreact and this just might be one of those times.

  “Why did you leave us?” The scream came out more forceful than I intended, and I surprised even myself. My concerns subside a little as I allow my anger to consume me. The substitution of anger for fear is another one of my faults and this seems like a good time to use it.

  Dad stops and stares at me with an understanding that is somehow magical. I immediately regret my outburst. I feel stupid and embarrassed and wish I would learn to keep my mouth shut once in a while.

  “Dad, I…” I start, trying to find the right words, not wishing to mess things up any more than I already have. Maybe I can fix things before he says something I don’t want to hear.

  “Baby,” he says holding both my arms. “Nothing could have taken me from you if I had a choice. But it wasn’t up to me. I’m so sorry, Journey. You’ll never know how much I didn’t want to leave you or Makayah. But my wife…”

  “Your wife?” I yell. “You mean my mother?”

  “Your…mother…my…wife,” he repeats stuttering.

  “You divorced her, remember?”

  “We never divorced.” His eyes are sincere, but I’m confused. “I’m sorry for having to leave you. But we never divorced. Your mother is my life, my reason to get out of bed every day.”

  I can now see that he aches for her as much I do. The damage was done to us both after all. Warm arms hug me and I lean in close to him. I cry as all my fear and anger melts away.

  “I love your mother, and I always will. It took all my strength not to stay with you, not to go to you.” His tears are real and make me cry even harder.

  If they’re not divorced, I want to know more. Why did he leave us? Why didn’t he come back? I have so many questions that my head hurts. We watch as Makayah runs on ahead. What is left of the afternoon sun barely reaches us now. I shiver. George rubs my arms to warm me.

  “Come, before it gets too cold.”

  We continue up the stone steps on the side of the embankment. But the trail is getting steep, and I’m not happy about our little walk anymore. In fact, it’s no walk—it’s a hike.

  “How much farther?” I’m panting and sweating now. I hate to sweat.

  “Not much, honest.”

  When we reach the top of the ridge, I turn and gasp. The view is spectacular. The pristine lake reflects the dark blue of the afternoon sky, and the mountains on both sides glisten with snow.

  “This is beautiful,” I say, the past momentarily forgotten. “Thanks for bringing me here, Dad.”

  “That’s not what I need you to see, Journey,” he says as he comes closer.

  He gently puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me away, guiding me around the corner to a cliff where Makayah is staring out over the edge. My eyes widen as I try to understand what I’m seeing.

  “What?” I mutter.

  With a soft hug he adds, “Welcome to your legacy, sweetheart.”

  “Dad?” my voice cracks as I try to speak. “Where are we, exactly?”

  “We’re home, baby,” he says with a strange sense of pride. “We’re home.”

  As far as I can see, a valley of the most spectacular colors and shades spreads out below. I’m held in its hypnotic trance. Huge trees with branches that seem to reach out for miles send ripples of confusion and wonder through me. What I’m looking at cannot be real.

  “How high up are we?”

  “Oh, twenty or thirty miles,” he answers as though it’s nothing unusual.

  “But Dad, we’d be dead,” I snap. “The atmosphere is only breathable for the first ten miles or so. I’m no scientist, but—”

  “You’re correct, Journey, back on Earth only the first ten miles is breathable,” he holds me firmly.

  “What?” I yell. “What do you mean by back on Earth?” My hands shake as my mind tries to comprehend.

  “Look up, baby.”

  Do I dare?

  I slowly glance up into the darkening sky, and almost collapse in disbelief. Just above the colorful horizon, thre
e moons crest over the mountain range. One so large I believe that if I reach up high enough, I can touch it. The other two moons are smaller, one a deep blue and the other a mixture of yellow and orange. They can’t be real.

  “Dad? Are those moons?” I ask pointing to the spheres. My stomach tightens as the reality of the situation dawns on me.

  “No, sweetheart, only the two smaller ones. The big green and yellow one over there,” he points, “is our sister world. We only get to see each other for a short time.”

  His enthusiasm grows with every word. It’s almost as though he’s exposing a deep dark secret that he could never share with me before. “That blue and white one over there,” he points again. “Is our moon and the smaller yellow one belongs to—Journey.”

  “To me?”

  He laughs as he explains. “That planet’s name is Journey, and we are standing on Traveler. Twins that need each other’s strength to exist. Our moon’s name is Makayah, which means happiness—yes, your sister’s name. It’s a world of water and a few small islands. And the yellow moon is Aakesh, or Lord of the Sky. It belongs to us—to Traveler. Without these moons, neither planet would sustain life. Both you and your sister were born here, in our cabin.”

  “Dad, I don’t understand.” My voice trembles. “How did we get here?”

  “The valley behind us belongs to me…you…us,” he continues ignoring my question. “Passed down through the family for generations.”

  “So, I’m not human?” The thought resurrects my feeling of never belonging anywhere. I’m reminded of that stranger staring at me from my bedroom mirror.

  “Of course you’re human,” he says, chuckling. “We are all human. Your mother is…well…um…I was born on Earth.”

  “Dad?” I say, feeling weak in the knees. “Please, where are we?”

  “Now that’s enough for tonight sweetheart, let’s just sit and enjoy the skies. We only get a glimpse of our sister planet for a little while. Is it not enough to know that you are no longer on Earth? That you are with me?”

  Well at least this explains that ugly yellow truck!

  3

  CONFESSIONS

  “WHY DON’T you tell me about the guy with the yellow truck?” I sit down to a breakfast of cereal and cold milk. It’s obvious that my father doesn’t care to explain how we got here or exactly where here is, but I have to ask something. After all, how many times does one go to sleep on one planet and wake up on another?

  Dad laughs. “Bright colors are important to us. They’re pure energy and a wonderful sensation to experience. You’ll see.”

  “Well I don’t know about all that, but Abeytu needs to trade in his truck. And what was he talking about yesterday? I know it has something to do with me. I’m an elder? What’s that?”

  “Oh so you think it’s all about you?” Dad ruffles my hair, and I push his hand away. “Abeytu is just trying to help me out. He knew you’d realize sooner or later you weren’t where you thought you were. What with the Wanderers being here soon, I’d have some real explaining to do. That’s all.”

  “What’s a Wanderer?” I ask, taking another bite of cereal.

  “We call the worshipers of our sister planet the Wanderers because they travel to share the strength they receive from the bond. It gives us the will to live, makes it easier for us to cope with life.”

  “Right, okay,” I reply. Dad smiles when I slurp on a scoop of soggy cereal. I think my father has finally lost his mind. “Hey, where did you get this cereal anyway? Come to think of it, all the food’s the same as I remember. If we’re really not on Earth, why am I eating Earth food? The boxes look a little different, but it’s still the same stuff.”

  Dad grins as he answers. “It’s what you’re used to eating. So we bought food that would be familiar to you.” His smile seems staged.

  I wonder if I inherited my dark hair from him. My mom had long blonde hair with only a hint of a curl. She was short, a few inches over five feet, and her eyes were a light green. I was taller than her, and my father is way over six feet. His hair is dark, almost black, and curly. His eyes are a dark brown that sparkles when he’s happy. I remember how my mom’s face would light up whenever she spoke of him. She always said we looked like our father, but I think I look more like her. It’s Makayah who’s his identical twin.

  “Eat up,” he says as he places the milk back into the refrigerator and pulls me from my thoughts. “We’re running into town this morning for some Martian groceries.”

  “Town?” I’ve come to accept that we’re not on Earth. But to experience a new planet first-hand, this is going to be great. “Really? A town? I get to see an alien town?”

  “Yes and you’re going to love it.” He chuckles, drying a dish and placing it on the shelf. “It’s time you see things for yourself.”

  Screaming and laughing, Makayah runs into the kitchen. She can hardly talk. “Quick, come outside, Journey. You’ve got to see this!”

  I glance up at my father for some hint. He just laughs and says, “The Wanderers have arrived.”

  I follow Makayah outside. The view that greets me takes my breath away. All around the lake are people in white-hooded robes with their hands raised to the heavens. Wanting to get a closer look, I walk into the yard. Curious about what they’re reaching for, I turn around. The large sister planet hovers above our cabin. A soft chanting fills the air with a calmness that overwhelms me. I feel the need to be near them, to become a part of them.

  “The Wanderers?” I ask, looking at my father.

  Dad grabs our hands and guides us down the path. We stop just in front of the roses. The longer I stand there, the more light-headed I become.

  “Look at the trees,” he whispers into my ear.

  My eyes widen as the huge branches stretch into the heavens. An invisible force seems to be pulling on every living thing, guiding them toward the sister planet. I study the amazing sight as the soothing voices reverberate from around the lake.

  “They’re paying respect to the force that binds us.” My father’s eyes are alive with yearning.

  Even though I can’t understand a word of their song, their voices engulf me. The sister planet is so close; I’m mesmerized. I can’t resist the urge to reach up and see if I can touch it. I feel a slight pull.

  “What is that?” I whisper to my father.

  “It’s the gravitational link between our worlds,” he whispers. “Since your mother’s blood flows through you, your body reacts.”

  “And they’re here because?” I ask nodding toward the hooded chanters.

  “Because this land is sacred.” He gently guides us away from the Wanderers. When we reach our cabin, we sit on the stairs.

  “Can I go back down to the lake, Daddy, if I promise not to bother them?” Makayah asks. I’m sure she’s feeling the same way I am and her excitement thrills me too.

  “Of course you can, baby,” he replies, letting go of her hand.

  “Dad, how can we own sacred land? Isn’t sacred stuff for, oh I don’t know, spiritual people or something? How can anyone own it? Doesn’t it belong to God?”

  “You’re going to find out anyway, so I’ll just come right out and tell you.” He sighs. “You’re royalty, Journey.”

  “You’re a king?” I snap, shaking my head. “Ah man, this place just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

  “No, I’m not a king. But you are from royalty. Your great, great, grandmother is a queen and her husband is called a statesman.”

  “They’re still alive?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “You never told me any of this before. What else do I not know about us?”

  “This is just as hard for me as it is for you. I never thought in a million years that Rachael, your mother, would die.” His eyes fall to the ground as he mentions her name. “I love you with all my heart. It almost killed me to leave you and come here, but I had no choice.”

  “No choice? No choice? Mother cried every night fo
r you. We missed you so much. Daddy, why? You left us. Mom would never have left you!” I cry, but it feels good to finally tell him how I feel.

  At the sound of my raised voice, one Wanderer leaves the group and walks over to us. The man has a handsome but aged face. He lowers his hood and allows it to drop down his back. His wavy golden hair is the same as Abeytu’s, very fine, almost like corn silk. He studies me with hypnotizing amber eyes.

  “Destiny and fate is not something we have control over, Miss Journey.” His voice has a rhythmic tune that immediately calms my nerves. But how does he know who I am? “To mourn or reject the unpleasant episodes of our lives does not change the thirst within our hearts. Dwelling on despair and longing for what we’ve lost only adds to our pain and confusion. Come stand by me. Your heart is in need.”

  The singer reaches out his hand and I can’t resist. Deep down, I know I have a choice. But I want to hold his hand and that’s not like me. As our hands clasp, I feel a strong surge of relief. We walk a little way toward the lake and when we stop, he holds out my arms and raises them to the huge sphere hanging above us.

  As my fingers reach outward, all my hurt and anger is pulled from my body and flows out through my fingertips. It feels so good to have all my emotions leave me at once. I didn’t know I was holding so much rage inside me. After a few moments, he lowers my arms and gazes into my eyes.

  “Better?” he asks, as his eyes twinkle.

  I nod.

  “Do not be so quick to judge your father. Quick and rash decisions can set us up for ultimate failure.”

  I nod again.

  “Your father loves you. There are reasons he came here and why his family could not. It is important that you have patience and learn all there is to know before you pass judgment.”

  Tears run down my cheeks and I want to let it all out. Instead, I turn and reach to the sister planet for more release of my pent-up emotions. The gratification is instantaneous, and I begin to feel more like myself. But I ask myself how this stranger can know so much about me and my family.