She needed to focus her mind on her body and her rest. Lately, she had been thinking too much on everybody else. Thinking too much on all the fools that surrounded her when she needed to be thinking about her pains, her heart, her survival.
There was a bed… it was cushy. The sheets smelled of lavender, and Maggie felt light on the pillows. All around her was a cool breeze that smelled like home. It wasn’t the smell of Feline Street; it was the smell of grilling meat and cantaloupe. It was the smell of food—her mother’s food. Her body felt blissful in the sheets, and the bed was suddenly huge. She could hear her mother calling her, and Maggie watched her tiny feet run down the hall to the kitchen. There, her mother smiled at her and gave her a plate of food. Her sister sang silly songs on the porch. Maggie’s father was nowhere to be seen. Maggie looked at her food, watched her sister, and felt a kiss on her head from her mother. Her heart jumped… this was bliss.
The TV commercial was too loud, and it startled Maggie awake. She looked around her apartment, then stared at her huge, ugly feet. Her heart sank a little in her chest. If only she would have had enough time to taste the food.
Lisa
It was one of those times when Lisa wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. The couch was unreasonable. Her bed was crabby. The kitchen floor was being peevish. The only escape was her two feet heading out the door; she’d just gotten home, but she knew she couldn’t stay still. Lisa went walking the neighborhood searching for Iggy. She wanted to ask him where the joy was. A man that lives like a cockroach among cockroaches—where did he find the joy? Did he even know what joy was? Did he want it?
Lisa squinted and rocked a little while standing on a corner. She didn’t know why she asked Craig the question about joy. She didn’t know what connection happened between her mouth and her brain to make that come out. From child birth, she had been trained to filter her mouth. “Those thoughts that stomp around your brain need to be told not to travel to your tongue,” the Mothers would constantly chant. They would repeat these little bits of wisdom to the girls with such a smile that each word left a paper cut. So why did that question slip?
When Lisa noticed Iggy watching her from across the street, she made a dash for the market and grabbed a couple apples. She waved the bag around until Iggy focused on her. Iggy came over and stood a little to her left, looking sun cooked and dirty with a plastic bag that had a hole in it tied to his wrist.
Lisa sat on the curb and rolled the apple in one hand while patting the ground with the other, as if she were calling a dog. Iggy sat with big eyes and big ears, watching and listening to every breath Lisa took.
“Where is your joy? Alegria?” Lisa asked, making sure Iggy heard every word. Quickly, without hesitation, Iggy pointed to the apple, then pointed to his heart.
“Alegria esta donde tu queres que este,” With that, Iggy took the apple from Lisa and smelled it, but didn’t leave. He waited for her to speak. Lisa wanted badly to say something to this man, to make him think for a second that she had some intelligence to her, that she was more than just another babbling bag of meat. Instead, Lisa untied the empty, torn bag from Iggy’s wrist and tied the one with the other apple to him. Lisa looked deeply at Iggy. His eyes were beady and had seen too many sunsets and sunrises that didn’t make sense in his mind; they all just blended together into a mixture of delirium.
Lisa nodded at Iggy and felt a calm that she hadn’t felt in a while. It was a strange calm; she could almost taste it. It tasted like the salt water from the ocean. It was in her mouth and running through her veins. Iggy nodded back got up to wander off. He didn’t walk off with a sense of purpose and place, though. He wandered with no place, no purpose, no direction. There didn’t seem to be a plan to Iggy; it was just a moment at a time for him—each second a victory of survival.
Lisa couldn’t shake the idea that Iggy was insect-like and didn’t have any qualities that would appeal to the Mothers. He was male, and there were no men among The Grey. He was clearly schizophrenic and had nothing redeemable to him. Why him, why did Superior Mother pick him? Why him, alive or dead?
Walking, Lisa decided she would wander also, but only mentally. She went from questioning joy to wondering why the Superior Mother had picked the marks she had for Lisa. Lisa had no clue what her final order would be. She had no clue what was expected of her to do at End Point. What were her marks for? Would she save them, kill them, or take them to The Grey? What would the Mothers do with them?
Craig was male, that was a no-go. But, he was handy at fixing things. Yet, there wasn’t a Mother among The Grey that couldn’t fix anything at any time. There was no need for “handy” among The Grey. Rafael was another male who would not follow the orders of the Mothers and would quickly end up with the naughty girls wherever they went.
Maggie…Lisa sat down on a bus stop bench. Maggie was female, but she was not like The Grey. She was not the same and very different. She was that one pear among the apples. She would never be accepted.
Lisa couldn’t conceive that there was any way she was taking her marks back to The Grey. It was a secret society. A breed of women among no other—not human, just different. Lisa was taught to kill humanly and efficiently from the Mothers. Lisa scratched her head and sniffed the smog filled air. Taught to kill efficiently, but never taught to nurture, never taught compassion… Despite herself, Lisa giggled. It was comical in an odd way to be taught how to take down an enemy, but not taught the importance of a hug. Maybe this mission was a life lesson in that, but that wasn’t the way of the Mothers.
Lisa watched the birds fly around. Did the other women of The Grey think about emotion as Lisa did? Or did they think about nothing but duty like the Mothers? Lisa would never ask her questions. She knew she was on the borderline of being an empath to humans, and that it would lead to nothing but shame and suffering for her.
Lisa could see reason behind killing Iggy. He was not useful in any way. If you are not of service—if you do not serve as having some use—then you are a tick. Parasites are removed. Parasites are disposed of. But, he was not a parasite to The Grey, so killing him would be a waste of time and resources. Maggie, was not evil—not an enemy in any sort. She was no threat to the Mothers. Maggie was a sloth in movements and manner. The Mothers would not care for that influence among the girls. So why kill her? She would just as soon be left alone.
Lisa got up from the bench. Craig wouldn’t make it a day. Being male, he’d be removed in any manner from The Grey. Lisa didn’t want to think that the Mothers were capable of killing Rafael; he was a child. But she had no answer as to what happened to the naughty girls. There was no way of knowing whether or not the Mothers humanely and efficiently did away with them as well.
Wandering brought Lisa to the restaurant that sold those steaks and that cake she loved so much. She stood there staring at the perfectly clean door, knowing that inside was the food she craved. This is a self-destructive choice. With that thought, Lisa opened the door to the restaurant and walked inside. It was a self-destructive choice she wanted to make.
Drinking her beer and watching the other guests eat, talk, and laugh made Lisa’s mind wander farther. What if she was to save her marks? What quality did Superior Mother see in them that they should be saved from whatever fate awaited them?
Rafael was a child; for that reason alone, he should be saved. Craig seemed strong and perhaps could be serviceable in heavy labor-type work if needed. Maggie could serve as a cook perhaps, once taught the diet of The Grey. Iggy…Lisa’s brain couldn’t wander far enough to consider what quality would be wanted with Iggy.
While eating her food, each clink of the fork hitting her plate was a warning bell that her calm was deceptive and unkind. Calm is just a manner of thinking; it’s nothing more than a ghost among the living. To survive is to be alert and aware of the continual chaos surrounding us. The trick is to give the air of being calm, while knowing there is nothing but chaos. There is nothing but the constant stirring of the univers
e towards doom. The problem with Lisa was that her calm was internal. Calm was in her pores, her saliva; she was sticky with it, and that was not survival. That was not the way of The Grey.
Helen
Helen lay prone on a rooftop drinking in her thoughts and watching her daughter fail. Among the Mothers, it had been noticed that Helen had gone astray. Dutifully reported to Superior Mother that she had gone missing and had not reported why or where, the Mothers waited patiently for an order to collect her and bring her to understand her indiscretion. Instead, Superior Mother requested hot tea, blinked, and told the Mothers that it was all part of the process—nothing more, nothing less. This began a riot of gossip among the Mothers, all of which Superior Mother ignored with little, if any, interest.
Craig
Craig started his truck, bought a burrito, and left for the beach. The beach is where all calm came from. It’s where his first taste of salt water hit his nostrils and started a relentless ambition to surf. He wanted to surf not to conquer nature, not to feel free, but to pursue a challenge that he knew would take years to master, and therefore would occupy him. The task of acquiring the board, taking it to the beach, and getting in those waves would keep his mind and body tired enough to not bother thinking of himself or outside himself for too long. Therefore, he would be too busy to feel.
Surfing was a way to not feel and that was what kept Craig calm. Too many people put too much importance on feeling, and Craig taught himself long ago not to bother with such crap. It was always better to move your body until your brain couldn’t focus on anything anymore.
Maggie
The dollar store was quiet. It was just Maggie and one checker. Maggie pushed her cart, looked at every item, and felt rich being able to buy a lot of things for only a dollar each. The dollar store was Maggie’s shopping mall, and she was okay with that.
Maggie had never been to a big fancy store and never wanted to go. Poverty stuck with her through life; it was with her always and she wouldn’t ever be able to shake it off. Because of this, she accepted that there was no need to battle what was meant to be. She accepted the quality of the dollar store. The items wouldn’t last long, she knew. It wasn’t bad, and it wouldn’t do a great job, but to Maggie, the same could be said of her—except for the not lasting long part. Maggie felt cursed with breath when everyone she ever loved was dead.
The loaves of bread seemed soft and fresh. She could have toast with butter and honey. She could make herself a sandwich with tomato and lettuce. Maggie held the loaf and thought hard on it. Her job cleaning the endlessly dirty laundromat was what paid for her groceries, but it wasn’t much. She needed to stretch every cent, even at the dollar store.
Maggie chose the bread, knowing that it meant no milk or cereal this week. Having to choose wasn’t upsetting, it was life. There was never a golden path or a lucky day. The struggle was continual and there was nothing to do but embrace it and learn to live in its boundaries.
The store door clinked signaling that other people where entering the store. Usually this would make Maggie hurry and try her best to get out before she was noticed or before she was forced to lay her eyes upon other people and smile, but not today. Today, she would keep the calm that was sitting in her stomach.
Living on a crappy street, in a nasty town void of nature’s beauty, and stepping outside the dollar store into stale air and homeless teenagers, Maggie still kept the calm. The calm was a newborn to Maggie. She hadn’t felt it in so long; it was brand new. The peace in her breathing, along with the quiet of her thoughts was something that just happened this morning.
Maggie woke up, started her day, and calm was with her. The calm told Maggie to accept it, take it, and do not question it—just linger within it. She complied because she did not know how long she had with it. There would be a day when the calm would silently blow out a window.
At home, she started some tea and took off her shoes. Shopping was done and it was early. She could hide in her apartment, away from the world, and enjoying her calm without a soul to set eyes upon.
Rafael
Rafael’s mom laid in her bed with her face covered in blankets and feet sticking out of the covers. Rafael lay next to her, face sticking out of the covers and feet tucked in. They were the complete opposite of each other, yet almost exactly the same. There was a calm lingering in the bedroom, not a wiggle from Rafael or a sigh from his mother. Both lay still eyes closed—not sleeping, just sensing the calm that was in bed with them.
Things in Rafael’s home were usually quiet. His mother was silent by nature and having been raised into quiet, Rafael knew no better. Loud children at his school seemed like the wild animals that he watched on TV. The screaming children at his school upset him to the point that he would want to strangle them into silence. Rafael yelled only when it was an emergency. Yelling was for when you really, really needed to be heard.
“Tienes hambre,” Rafael’s mom asked Rafael through the covers—through the calm.
Rafael said, “No, stay here.” He then covered his head and pretended the rest of the world didn’t exist. He could live in the calm sheets with his silent mother—where she never grew old, and he never became a man—a self-imposed purgatory.
Rafael’s mom stayed, eyes focused on the blur of sheets. She felt the calm, she inhaled it. There would come a day when the calm would turn against her, teeth showing and claws out. That day would come and she would fight, she knew this. But, not this moment. Now she stayed in her bed, with the child she was told she created, and breathed in his scent.
Iggy
Iggy wanted to hide somewhere; he wanted to smell his apple. He wanted to lick the skin and roll it in his hands without eyes on him. He wanted and needed to enjoy it without looks that would ruin it. Then, Iggy saw the man standing, watching him outside the shelter. The second he felt the man’s look, Iggy went to him.
At the shelter, Augustine led Iggy to shower, eat, and sleep in the air conditioned air that fell on Iggy like a silk sheet. He made sure Iggy had one apple to hold and another that he ate. Augustine helped the people of the shelter on his days off. He helped them get clean, get food, and get some rest from the beating sun of the city. Augustine watched Iggy fast asleep, looking like burnt toast on his cot and nodded to himself. He felt calmer when he could get his brother in here and safe, even if it was just for a while. Even if his brother didn’t understand that he had a brother.
Lisa
After the restaurant, Lisa felt too bloated to wander about and didn’t want to think anymore that night. It was finally getting dark on this long, summer day. She felt hazy from the food and knew that this was why Superior Mother did not allow such food in The Grey. The heaviness of the meat and the weight of the cake had made Lisa feel lazy.
The calm she had felt now was a growing anxiety in her chest. A shady anxiety who hid behind the calm. It took refuge in the calm laughing and plotting. The anxiety taking over and Lisa felt the urge to check the time and look at a calendar. How much more? How many weeks? How many days until End Point? She hadn’t looked in days. A sense of panic at her sloppiness came over her, and she wanted to run, but was too weighted down with the food garbage she inhaled. Walking, she had such a sense of what the fuck did I do… End Point was near, it was near and she could sense it. The anxiety spread over her and propelled her home. She didn’t know why, but she needed to go to her apartment now. Her life among The Grey depended on it.
In her apartment stood three Mothers smiling and nodding as if she had made them proud.
“Oh my, at it again…that disgusting meat. Really Lisa, I would have thought that you’d fall for a man, or at the very least soda, but meat…” The first Mother named Kristi waved her hands in the air.
“We have all had our time in the outside world, Sweetie. It gives us some awful choices to make. Some easy, some difficult, but we strive among The Grey for our own path. All the same, darling, all the same,” Mother 2 Jesse looked at Mother 3 Terri and winke
d.
It was a creepy wink…a Mother winking always made Lisa’s skin crawl. It was the type of wink to put you on alert that you were about to be ordered to do something despicable.
Terri got so close to Lisa that she could smell her perfectly minty breath on her cheek. “In The Grey, Lisa hon, we are not good; yet we are not bad. We work very hard to be that; it is a very delicate line between chaos and peace. Thus our name. We are neither black nor white, we are both. You my darling must learn this…too much kindness, and you are weak. Too much strength, and you become a dictator. There is a space between—to live between both.”
Kristi and Jesse looked at Lisa’s couch with disdain. They acted as if it was filth, the most lonesome of all furniture that would surely dirty their slacks. Lisa understood what they had said. It was taught to them as children that some choices are ugly, but they are choices that might bring beauty. “Kill one child, save fifty. Enslave one beast to free the species. Yes, I know the teachings of Superior Mother. I know them well,” Lisa sat on her disgusting couch and looked at the Mothers.
Jesse gave Lisa that tight lipped smile they all gave when patience was almost at end, “Yes, of course you studied well. But to understand and to do are very different. To recite the beliefs and live the beliefs are very fuzzy. Lisa, we are all the same and none different…”
Kristi wrinkled her nose, looking directly at Lisa, “And yet, some are different. There are few that are empaths.” The other two Mothers looked away as if she had said the most offensive word ever spoken. “Very rare it is to be an empath…to feel what humans feel shows a weakness that tosses order into disarray. Among The Grey, disarray is not acceptable.”
All three mothers looked at Lisa now. “All the same and none different…All the same and none different…”
Women of the Grey- The Complete Trilogy Page 13
