by D. C. Payson
“Just pictures, Mom,” Julia said.
“Just pictures,” Pamela repeated. She shrugged. “Then I guess … just be safe, okay?”
Julia got up and hugged her Mom. “We will, Mom, thanks!” She turned toward Ina. “Thank you too, Grandma. This means a lot to me.”
The old diesel engine of Ina’s Mercedes purred, baroque music pouring forth from the radio. Julia had always found classical music boring, but today it helped to sooth her harried mind. She let her head loll to the side and watched the manicured hedges and gates streak by. The knot in her stomach grew when Ina turned down the ramp to the Pacific Coast Highway.
“Would you prefer to listen to something else?” Ina asked.
Julia sat up and looked ahead. “No, I’m fine.”
“Julia? Are you alright?”
Julia breathed in deeply and exhaled. “I’m sorry, Grandma, I guess I’m a little stuck in my head.” She took in the familiar homes along the highway and the chaparral hillsides. Everything looked normal. The plants were their standard greenish-brown, the $10 million “beach shacks” along the road their usual mini-fortress selves, the expensive, foreign cars lined up along the curb as on any other day. It felt like regular old LA.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Ina asked. “Maybe we should give it a few days?”
Julia shook her head. “No, Grandma. I want to go. I would rather deal with it now.”
“Very well, my dear.”
The traffic slowed as they drew near to the intersection with Topanga Canyon Road, backing up cars for the better part of a mile. Police had set up a checkpoint of overlapping cruisers and orange, safety barrels, and most traffic was being rerouted either back toward Santa Monica or up the road to Topanga.
“Do you think they’ll let us through?” Julia asked.
“I can be quite convincing,” said Ina. “Just let me talk to them.”
When they got to the intersection, Ina ignored the swinging arm motions of the traffic officer trying to get her to U-turn. Instead, she drove up to him, her window rolled down.
“I live in Malibu,” she said calmly. “My granddaughter and I evacuated yesterday, and we would like to check on our house.”
“Have you called the fire department to see if your lot is in one of the safe areas?” the officer asked.
“I called this morning, yes.”
“Alright. Do you have an ID?”
Ina looked up at the cop. “Officer, I have lived in Malibu for forty years, I need to check on my home. Now please let me pass.”
Julia reached across her, her own driver’s license in hand. “Here’s an ID.”
An ear-splitting HONKKKK rang out behind them.
“Please be patient, sir!” the cop barked at the angry driver. He turned back toward Ina and Julia and waved them through. “Be safe up ahead. There’s still some debris on the road. Drive slowly, please.”
“Thank you, officer,” said Ina as she guided the car between the barrels, past the parked squad cars, and down the PCH.
Julia felt a jolt run through her as they rounded the hillside and caught sight of the first cluster of charred plants, and then seemingly an endless landscape of them—blackened fingers rising from the earth. She recognized the driveways they passed, but this wasn’t the Malibu she knew. Stone or concrete skeletons were all that remained of many once-living homes. The streetside buildings still stood, but the ravages of the fire marked everything: the scorched trunks of old palm trees; the blanket of ash over driveways; the lines of parked emergency vehicles at otherwise empty beachside restaurants. Even the beaches, usually teeming with surfers, sat abandoned. It was like war had come to Malibu.
Ina stopped the car at the base of the steep driveway leading to Julia’s former home. She moved a barrel out of the way then returned to the car and slowly accelerated up the winding path.
Julia could barely read the driveway signs anymore. Their paint was bubbled and peeling at the edges, and a thick layer of black char obscured most of what was left of the words. Little flecks of ash hung in the air. As they neared the top of the driveway, Julia caught sight of a once-beautiful Eucalyptus tree, the one she used to play on as a little girl, now black and lifeless. Her heart began to stir. Finally, she saw what was left of the house. There were no blue walls or tiled roof. No wisteria-covered pergola over the deck. Only the outdoor fireplace and concrete foundation remained. What hadn’t been consumed by the fire sat in a mound of debris.
Julia’s emotional dam broke, and tears streamed from her eyes. She let out a gurgled sob, but she didn’t turn away.
Ina brought the car to a stop, parking well short of where the front door had been. They got out and approached the debris pile. It wasn’t smoldering, but it had a strange smell—an acrid, ashy-metallic smell. Julia held her camera, but she couldn’t bring herself to raise it. She just stood and took in the sight of her home, something she had always taken for granted, now reduced to nothing. She sat on the ground, put her camera down, and covered her face with her hands.
“My house, Grandma. The place I lived my whole life.”
Ina came up beside Julia and placed an arm around her shoulder. “I know. It was a wonderful home.”
A light breeze brought the salt smell of the ocean. Little wisps of ash rose from the ground then settled as the breeze subsided.
Julia sobbed again. “Why did this happen?”
Ina sighed. “I used to ask that question a lot. Sometimes I would blame the gods, and other times I would blame mankind. After being angry for a long time, I realized that I would never really know. Eventually, I learned that ‘why’ is less important than ‘now.’”
“What does that even mean?” Julia asked, wiping her eyes on her shirt.
Ina pointed to her head. “‘Why’ is only up here. But in the ‘now’ are the breaths that we take, the love that we feel, the movement of our bodies going forward. Life continues, even amidst great change. Your destiny lies ahead, not behind.”
“Destiny? That’s cheesy.” Julia chuckled between tears, but she secretly appreciated her grandmother’s words.
“Malibu will always be in your heart, Julia. You grew up here, and it has shaped you. You are every bit as free-spirited and wild as these hills, and I see the beauty and vastness of the ocean in your eyes.”
Julia smiled. “Thanks, Grandma.” She turned her camera toward herself and clicked the shutter. She checked the preview. The photo captured her tear streaks and puffy redness, but also her smile and her grandmother’s hand on her shoulder. She felt some of her energy coming back, her life returning. Breathing in deeply, Julia stood up and walked toward the debris pile.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go over there,” Ina said. “It may not be safe.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t go much closer.”
She spotted what looked like an out-of-place, gray block lying just outside the concrete footprint of the house. On closer inspection, she realized it was a book, the cover charred, but the layers of pages seemingly intact. Julia bent down, zoomed in on the book, and snapped a picture. She reached out and tried to take hold of it, but no sooner had she touched the cover than it disintegrated into ash.
“Crazy,” Julia said under her breath.
“Incredible, the power of fire,” said Ina from behind.
Julia looked back and nodded.
“We used to say back home that fire was the oldest of all powers, older even than the gods themselves. It was neither good nor evil, and indeed could be used for either purpose.”
Julia clicked off another picture. “I’d like to hear more about your home, Ina. You never really talked about it when we were kids.”
“Oh … Aevilen,” Ina said wistfully. “It was very beautiful, a valley surrounded by mountains. No cars or planes. Just a beautiful, pristine valley. I lived in the capital, a grand fortress city built over a river. In our language, it was called Erantioran, Riverstride.�
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Julia put her camera down and looked over at her grandmother. “That sounds amazing. Please don’t get mad at me for asking, but why wouldn’t you want to go back to that?”
Ina shook her head. “I know I said that I fear it’s still not safe. That’s true. But I also feel great shame at having left.”
“Ina, there’s no shame in running away from a war. Your father and brother had already died. Anybody in your shoes would have done the same thing, just like we ran from the fire.”
“It’s different when you leave your people behind,” Ina said solemnly.
“What do you mean?”
Ina shook her head again. “I never even told your grandfather.”
“Ina?”
“The Vorravers were the ruling family of Aevilen. My father was the king.”
Julia’s eyes bulged. “Wait, you were royalty?”
“You would have been a wonderful princess, Julia,” said Ina distantly. She looked back at Julia and smiled. “But it’s of no matter anymore. That’s a world away and a lifetime ago. Let us live our lives here, in the now.”
Julia walked over and wrapped her arms around her grandmother, holding her in a firm embrace. “Thanks, Ina. Thanks for everything.”
Ina hugged her back. “You’re welcome, my dear.”
Julia spent the better part of an hour wandering around the property snapping pictures, alternating between shots to capture the destruction and shots to help her remember her beloved Malibu home. She tried to be present, to use the opportunity for catharsis and closure. In many ways she succeeded, each new photo getting her closer to Ina’s ‘now.’ But a thought kept distracting her: Ina’s a princess.
Julia had to know more.
Julia closed the bedroom door behind her and rushed over to her box with barely-contained excitement. She put her camera down and retrieved her laptop, opening it up and tapping the spacebar to bring it back to life. When the screen came on, her heart jumped with excitement.
She went straight to Google.
A-I-V-A-L-I-N-enter.
Did you mean AVALON? appeared in link-blue, above a few hits for sweaters.
“No, I didn’t,” said Julia aloud.
A-I-V-A-L-I-N- -P-L-A-C-E, enter.
No results.
“C’mon … ”
A-V-A-L-E-N- -P-L-A-C-E, enter.
No results.
A-V-A-L-I-N- -V-O-R-R-A-V-E-R, enter.
No results.
Julia frowned. “Really?”
V-O-R-
Just then, a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Julia called.
“Do you have a moment?” Ina asked, cracking open the door.
Julia closed the computer and looked up. “Sure, Grandma.”
Ina walked over and sat at the base of Julia’s bed. She held a box. “You know, it took me many years to adjust to my new life here in Los Angeles. I hid my past from everyone … Perhaps I mistook my weakness for strength. I am glad that we spent that time together today and that I don’t have to bear my secret alone anymore.”
“I enjoyed it too, Grandma. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Ina flashed a mischievous grin. “I want to give you something.”
Julia furrowed her brow. She didn’t have the heart to tell her grandmother that she was starting to doubt her story, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to keep playing along.
Ina opened the box and took out a white, woolen garment. Holding it still-folded in her hands, she extended her arms toward Julia. “This is for you.”
Julia received it gingerly. The wool was very soft and had been reinforced along the edges with a heavier cloth to give it structure. There was no label on the outside, but the wonderful fabric and pretty white color filled Julia with high hopes. She stood up and swung the garment open.
Julia gasped. It was a shawl covered in the finest embroidery she had ever laid eyes on. All throughout were incredible, interlocking patterns rendered in golden thread.
“I wore that the night I escaped,” Ina said. “It is one of only a few items I have left from my old home. It sat in the attic for many years, but I think it’s time for it to come out once again. I was a princess when I last put it on; I hope you feel like one when you wear it.”
Julia swung the shawl over her back and looked in the mirror. She grappled with her lingering doubts as she took in the regal image before her. As an LA girl, she was well versed in fashion; she knew that even the couturiers at Chanel weren’t making things like this.
“Do you like it?” Ina asked.
Julia nodded, barely able to take her eyes off the mirror. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”
“I’m so glad,” said Ina. She got up from the bed. “I hope you find an occasion where you can wear it. But do keep its origin between us—I don’t think anyone would believe you, anyway.”
Julia smiled. “You’re the best, Ina.”
Ina laughed. “I am not sure about that, but thank you, my dear.”
As Ina made her way out of the room, Julia removed the shawl and turned it over in her hands, admiring the intricate stitching. She no longer doubted that there was history here, though what it really was she still needed to discover. The attic, she thought. Julia didn’t want her family to catch her rooting through her grandmother’s belongings, so she’d have to wait—but not for long. She needed to know the truth.
Julia bided her time, half-heartedly flipping through a book as she kept an eye on the light from her parent’s bedroom. Finally, it went out: go time.
She tiptoed out of her room and down the hallway to the attic door. Unhooking the old latch, she ducked inside and closed the door behind her. The beam of her flashlight illuminated the narrow, steep staircase leading to the attic.
The small hallway echoed with the creaking of old stairs as Julia ascended. At the top, she came to her deceased grandfather’s writing niche, still arranged much as she remembered it: the mahogany desk against the window, a typewriter to the left, and a big, wooden swivel chair turned to face the stairs. What was different was the dust that blanketed everything in a thin coat of forgotten gray.
“Love you, Grandpa,” Julia whispered, though she wasn’t here for him. She flashed the light toward the crawlspace door. She had been in that space only once before, during a game of hide-and-go-seek years ago. It had scared her: a dark, cold space filled with sheet-covered furniture, like something out of a bad horror movie.
Julia braced as she turned the knob and opened the door. Stale, musty air wafted out. With her flashlight, Julia could pick out countless pieces of old furniture, boxes, and rolled-up carpets. No monsters or moving shadows. She reached her arm through the door and along the interior wall until she found the light switch.
She flicked it on and scanned the room.
Bureaus and trunks, she thought to herself. Ina would have stored the shawl in a bureau or trunk … too important for a cardboard box.
There were no bureaus, which made things easier, though there were four large trunks in the middle of the room. Julia made her way over and checked their tops. One had less dust on its lid than the others. Someone had opened it recently.
“Here we go,” Julia said as she dropped to her haunches and took hold of the lid.
The trunk released a peculiar odor as she opened it, but Julia cared about the contents more than the smell. On the right side were stacks of clothes, cool vintage pieces that at any other time might have captured her attention. But not tonight. She focused on the left side, on the odd-looking leather trousers and the small, porcelain box. She took out the pants and unfolded them on the floor beside her. There was no label, and the hide had grown stiff from years of inattention. They were very high-waisted, and featured two rows of beautifully polished horn buttons running up the front.
Exotic, just like the shawl, Julia thought. She was on to something.
Julia returned the pants to t
he chest then took out the porcelain box. She opened it. Inside was a necklace, a thin chain with a silvery metal pendant at its center. The pendant was slightly larger than a quarter and shaped like an abstract shark’s tooth with a hole cut in it toward the top. Julia took it out and held it up to the light. It seemed to give off a faint bluish reflection.
Julia felt a strange attraction to the necklace. It held her gaze the same way seeing a famous work of art or an A-list celebrity did. But this connection was deeper. Although she’d never seen the necklace before, it was somehow familiar to her. The longer she looked at it, the more she thought she could feel the metal warming in her hand.
This is a bad idea, she thought. I should put it back. But she couldn’t put it down. Her eyes lingered.
Ina might not mind if I wore it for a day or two. She gave me the shawl—maybe I could have this, too, if I asked.
Julia slipped the chain over her head. The pendant sat high on her chest, the metal beautiful, almost entrancing, against her skin. She smiled as she placed a hand against it and allowed herself to imagine fanciful settings—restaurants, concerts, dates—where she might wear it.
“This is so cool,” she whispered to herself. The necklace wasn’t the proof of Ina’s heritage she had been looking for, but it still seemed like a treasure. Like the shawl, the necklace made Julia feel special, even royal.
Julia looked back in the trunk and shuffled through the clothes on the right side, but the stack proved to be nothing more than old designer dresses, top to bottom.
She said she came with nothing more than the clothes on her back. Maybe this is it?
She opened up one of the other trunks close by. It was full of carefully stacked plates and serving dishes. Pretty, but ordinary. She looked at the other trunks and thought about going through those as well, but she was growing tired. Somehow, she knew that they were dead ends, anyway. Still, finding the necklace seemed like a stroke of good luck, and maybe it would be enough. She could research the pendant’s symbol on the internet and hopefully learn something from Ina herself about the necklace tomorrow.
