Oppression

by Jessica Therrien

  The lights of the MUNI lifted me only slightly out of my overwhelmed frenzy. Thankful I still had my bag slung around my body, I dug up the change and stepped onto the N train, worried and angry.

  Inside, it was quiet and fairly vacant with only a few faceless passengers coming and going every few stops. I sat in the back corner, choosing to bury myself deep into my mobile refuge. A few unsteady lights flickered on and off sporadically, and I immediately related to the feeling. After all, wasn’t that William’s game, to turn me off and on again at his leisure, completely out of my control? It was cruel to make me a slave to my own heart—a heart that had been manipulated and deceived. He was callous, and I hated that I still had feelings for him even now. Maybe if I was far enough away, I would stop feeling like I was unraveling.

  With my head to the window, I watched the passing city rush by my dazed and bloodshot eyes. I glanced at the time every minute or so, anxious to get to Anna’s. The close-fitting walls of the train were my only comfort, as I condemned myself for putting my friend and her daughter in danger.

  As I barreled on in her direction, I stared at her number on my cell phone, still calling every few minutes. I hadn’t known being her friend would put her at risk. How could I? I had seen her so many times in the past, though, and she had never been approached or endangered. Were things different now? Surely I wouldn’t be expected to never see her again. I wouldn’t accept that. I couldn’t. She and her daughter Chloe were all I had left, the only thing that even came close to family.

  It was a ways to her house, a thirty minute ride including a transfer to the BART, but it seemed like hours had passed. I thought maybe the trip would allow me to think, to pull myself together, but I was even more anxious when I got there. All that had happened tonight was weighing on me, making me an emotional wreck.

  As long as Anna is okay, I’ll be fine, I comforted myself. As far as William was concerned, I would just have to get over him. People had to deal with these sorts of things every day. Well, maybe not exactly this. Being betrayed by the love powers of your mythological crush wasn’t all that common, but people felt heartbreak and pain and managed to move on. That’s what I would have to do, move on.

  My feelings were erratic, darting back and forth between confidence and complete devastation, even as I entered the complex where Anna lived. I wandered through the town houses looking for 32B, exhausted to the core. Fear was my only source of energy, the only thing keeping me going. Every part of me was begging for sleep.

  After I’d found it, I weighed my options. What if this put her in more danger? What if someone had followed me and saw me go into her house? I looked around cautiously, knowing I probably wouldn’t have seen them anyway. I couldn’t believe I had endangered the last two people on earth that I truly loved. As I stared at her front door, I decided it was best not to talk to her.

  I did my best to stay quiet as I crept to the front window, stepping awkwardly around overgrown hedges. If I could just see inside, see that she was safe, it would make me feel better. I cupped my hands between my eyes and the glass, and saw her, sitting unharmed in a recliner. My shoulders relaxed, and I felt the fear dissipate. She was fine.

  I turned to leave, satisfied with seeing her alive and uninjured, and tripped over the hedge behind me. I let out a startled scream and tumbled backward.

  I heard the door open before I even had time to scramble to my feet. “Elyse?” Anna said in alarm. “What are you doing out here?” She laughed at the sight of me in her bushes. “Are you spying on me?”

  It made my heart settle to see her familiar face. She had the same button nose covered in freckles, and silky flat hair turned slightly silver over the years. Her eyes squinted tightly behind her lifted cheeks as she smiled.

  “I swear, every time I see you, I’m—”

  I jumped to my feet. “Shhh,” I snapped, grabbing her hand and rushing her inside.

  “What’s going on?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “I don’t know. It’s probably on silent. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Everything,” I said, closing my eyes, trying to wish it all back to the way it was. “I might have been followed. Maybe not though. You have to be careful.” All the worries I’d been toiling over were spilling out in one long breath. “Make sure you lock the door, and . . .”

  “Elyse?”

  My heart began to pound with anxiety.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “No,” I answered, and fell into her arms for comfort. I noticed how thin and frail she was as I wept into her shoulder, too thin.

  After a few minutes of long awaited consoling, she led me to the couch. The place was small and more cluttered than I remembered. Shoes were lined up by the door, DVD’s piled next to the TV, and books stacked everywhere there was space, but it was as tidy as she could make it.

  I took a seat on the worn out toffee-colored sofa. Anna brought me a blanket and hot cinnamon tea, still waiting for me to be ready to talk. How could I tell her she and Chloe were in danger and that it was my fault? I was thankful she was giving me time to settle down, to process the fact that everything was fine. She was fine. Her presence was comforting, and so nostalgic that I hardly noticed her aging eyes. As I looked past her into the girl I remembered, reminiscence dredged up inside of me.

  The memory of our quiet town, which fell asleep at sundown every evening without fail, was like a forgotten dream that I could suddenly recall. It was a safe place, so Anna and I were allowed to venture off to the pair of swings behind our old brick school every night after dinner. We’d peel the loose fencing back and climb into the closed off space unnoticed, free to do as we pleased.

  “I’m going to get out of here, Elyse,” she’d say. “I’m not going to let this place suck me in like it has everyone else.”

  The wind whipped past our ears as we launched ourselves into the fading light of the dusky sky. I loved the feeling, diving head first into a pool of sweet summer air as the horizon turned the color of rainbow sherbet with the setting sun.

  “I don’t know. It’s not so bad.” I never understood why she wanted to ‘get out.’ The place was heaven to me. It had everything I always wanted—school, friends, a normal life—but Anna wanted more than that. She wanted to really live.

  “Not so bad? Elyse, there is a whole world out there. Don’t you want to see it?” We whooshed past each other, our legs pumping us higher. “I swear, when I’m eighteen, I’m going to find the biggest city there is and live right in the middle of it. I want to fall asleep to buzzing street sounds and go to dinner at one in the morning. Maybe I’ll be on Broadway or travel with a band or something.”

  “Your mom’s going to love that,” I said, my hair trailing behind me like ribbons in the wind.

  “I don’t care. I’m not going to just marry Charlie Stanton from down the street and iron his shirts and cook him food.”

  I laughed at the disgust in her voice as she damned the future plans her mother had mapped out for her.

  “Well if you do, remember to send me the wedding photo. That I’d have to see.”

  “Are you kidding? If I marry Charlie Stanton, you’re marrying Billy Casey, which means we’d probably be neighbors, in which case I’d be over at your house complaining every day.”

  “I’m not marrying Billy Casey. He smells like jerky.”

  “I know,” she laughed. “But, if I do get married, it’s going to be to a singer or guitar player anyway. Not Charlie Stanton.”

  “I don’t think I’ll get married,” I said as though it were a decision I’d made, not a reality I was forced to face.

  “Yeah. Me either. Let’s just move to LA and live in an apartment together.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I agreed, but I had my doubts about that sort of thing. When she was eighteen, I’d still look like I should be in junior high. I gripped the metal chains of my swing tighter. “Do you t
hink we’ll still be friends by then?”

  “Why wouldn’t we be? We’re best friends, and we’re going to be best friends until we’re both eighty and playing bingo for money on Tuesdays.”

  Sitting there in her living room, in a reality so far from what she’d dreamed, returned the memory, fleeting as it was, to the back of my mind.

  “I don’t know how I got myself into this,” I confessed to her. “I guess I would have found out eventually, but . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’re not going to believe me.”

  She shook her head in disagreement. “After the way you’ve aged, I would believe you if you said you were Wonder Woman.”

  “Well, I’m not Wonder Woman,” I said, “but I do finally know what I am.” If I was going to warn her about what was out there, about the threat posed by The Council, I’d have to start from the beginning. I didn’t see any way around it. She needed to know, so she could protect herself and Chloe.

  Her eyes widened. “How?”

  I sipped my tea and tucked my feet under the blanket. “There are others. Here, in San Francisco.”

  “You’re kidding.” She paused, waiting for me to continue. “Well, spit it out already. What did they say?”

  “You can’t tell anyone,” I said firmly.

  “Hey, blood sisters for life, right?” A satisfied smile crawled up her cheeks. “I’m proud to say I’ve kept that secret buried deep.” She had. Not even Chloe knew about the day I healed Anna.

  “When I told you I was being followed, about William and Kara . . .”

  “They’re like you,” she guessed.

  I nodded. “They call themselves Descendants. Each of them has an ability and lives as long as I do. They say we’re descendants of Greek gods, only Greek gods were never really gods at all. They were just people like me, who were misunderstood, taken to be gods because of their powers and their aging.”

  “You’re a Greek god?” she asked, eyes alight with amazement.

  I laughed. “No, I’m not, but I guess that period of time had some effect on their . . . my people, because they still use the names. William said I’m descendant of Asclepius, god of healing.”

  She laughed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “Yeah, I guess we sort of knew about the healing, but get this. My left side does the opposite. The blood’s poison.”

  “Yeah right,” she said, not sure if I was joking. “Seriously?”

  “Well, I don’t really have proof of that, but I’m not sure I want to test it.” I was glad I’d made the decision never to try the healing again after the blood sisters incident. I could have easily killed someone.

  “So, are you going to be all right?” she asked, taking another sip of her tea. “You’re not in trouble with them are you?”

  Trouble was one way of putting it.

  “Yes,” I answered honestly. “I think I am. I think we all are.”

  I told Anna about all of it. How the entire society of Descendants had an elaborate system and way of life, completely unknown to most of the world, and that it was forbidden to expose anything to humans. She was in danger because of that. I told her about the events of the night, how one innocent decision to save a human being had resulted in her death and the death of her attackers. How they all thought I’d be the one to save them from the corruption and evil that ruled their secret race and ultimately threatened her. Lastly, I told her about William and the crushing disappointment I’d felt when I learned my growing love for him wasn’t even real.

  “If I’m really in danger,” she objected, “why hasn’t anyone come to hunt me down, huh? How do you know Kara even really killed the girl? She could be acting out this whole thing because she’s jealous. I’m not worried about it,” Anna said with finality. “Tell me more about this guy.”

  “He’s . . . just a guy,” I said, laughing a little through my words. I cupped my tea in both hands, letting the heat warm my palms. The feeling reminded me of William’s touch. “I mean, I’ve never allowed myself to have feelings for anyone, and then, when I finally do, I find out it’s not genuine.”

  “Look at the bright side, though,” she pointed out. “Now, there are other fish in the sea. You actually can be with someone, even if it’s not him.”

  “You’re right,” I said, starting to feel better.

  Chloe’s bedroom door opened, and she peeped her head out with tired eyes and messy hair. She was looking more like her mother every time I saw her. It was like opening a window to the past. She was the childhood Anna I remembered and longed for in the days I spent alone with Betsy after I left. Her chocolate eyes and straight black hair were Anna’s. Her lips and cheeks might have belonged to someone else, but the rest I recognized.

  “Hey, Chlo bug,” I said with a cheery smile.

  “We being too loud?” Anna asked.

  She walked out in striped flannel pajamas and snuggled into me on the couch. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked her mom.

  “I’m keeping her awake,” I answered.

  Chloe looked me up and down, then smiled when she found my eyes. “I’m catching up to you.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I said, shoving her with my shoulder. “In my mind you’ll always be three.”

  “I’m fourteen.”

  “Jeez,” I said, looking at Anna. “When she looks older than me, I’m going to lose it.”

  “Me too,” Anna agreed with a nod.

  Chloe looked at her in a way that communicated something I wasn’t a part of, some silent worry between them that I hadn’t been let in on.

  “What?” I asked, picking up on it.

  “Nothing,” Anna said, brushing it off. “We should all get back to bed.”

  My body was giving out to fatigue quickly and against my will. “Sounds good to me. I’m exhausted.”

  “All right, will you be okay here on the couch?”

  “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning,” she said after grabbing a pillow and extra blanket from the closet.

  “Goodnight, Chlo bug,” I said as Chloe slipped back into her room.

  11.

  I DIDN’T REMEMBER falling asleep, so it must have happened immediately after Anna climbed the stairs to her room. Like most nights since she’d died, I dreamed of Betsy, reliving that part of my life and longing for her comfort.

  “Honey, can you open your eyes?” she spoke calmly in my dream, not a hint of worry in her words. I heard her, but I didn’t dare move. I was disoriented, like waking up after a deep sleep and forgetting where you are. I tried to drift back into the coddling blackness, subconsciously aware of the horror I would have to face when I did open my eyes, but their conversation grabbed my attention, and I was suddenly alert.

  “She’s been in and out for the last few days. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but maybe you could come by tomorrow instead?” she said making her words into a question.

  “Oh no. I’m sure she’s in good hands. We just wanted to come by and see how she was doing.”

  “That’s very sweet of you.”

  I took my chances and let my eyelids lift just enough to make out the man standing in the hallway. He was thin and tall, wearing a wool gray coat. I couldn’t see his face, but there was a boy at his side, maybe nine or ten, who looked curiously through the open door of my room. His eyes were sad as he watched me, not knowing I was peeking at him.

  “Not to be insensitive, but do you plan to put her in foster care?” the man asked.

  “Actually, I was planning on taking her in,” the woman said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s good. She’ll be better off here.” He sounded relieved at the arrangement, and pulled the boy back out of view.

  “Exactly my thinking, too,” she said.

  “Have a nice day, miss.”

  The woman was hidden from my sight, but when she peered around the corner, I saw the reflection of my anxious face in her eyes.

  “Now you�
��re awake,” she teased. “You hungry?” Without an answer, she headed to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. She acted as if my being there was the most normal thing in the world. Her hair was a light dusty brown, tied back in a braid. She was middle aged and looked tired, but it didn’t take away from the sort of raw beauty about her.

  “I’m Betsy,” she said as she re-entered the room holding a turkey sandwich. “I set a few books out for you to read if you get bored, no TV though.” She set the sandwich on the dresser giving me the opportunity to respond. I didn’t. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  “I’m Elyse,” I choked out. “Ellie.” It was all I could bring myself to say. I didn’t dare ask the questions that clung so desperately to the edge of my subconscious.

  “What a pretty name,” she said as she smiled and left.

  At that point I realized that I was in a bedroom that seemed to be set up for me. A few sets of clothes were hanging in the open closet, and atop the pink dresser in the corner were some books and a set of dolls propped up against the wall, their joyful faces mocking my buried devastation. There was a lamp on my bedside table, appropriately pink to match the dresser. The bedspread, also pink, seemed new, and the truth of it all sank in. It was apparent that Betsy had made this my room.

  Days passed, and I couldn’t muster the will to speak. The police came and went, and the funeral for my parents passed by me in a blur that made me numb. I mostly kept to myself, closing the door to my new room and submerging myself in the dark shadowy grief that I found around every corner. My life consisted of losing myself in books and sleeping. My father’s words kept echoing in my head—People like us could not live a normal life if we were exposed. Despite my behavior, Betsy kept on living in her usual way. She was a nurse, and she went to work regularly, leaving me to my moping, checking in only to let me know that she was home. Tonight, I didn’t anticipate a change in our routine when Betsy peered her head in, so her words caught me off guard.