Fireflies Glow Only in the Dark

by Ruth Morse

  “I know what teens your age are up to these days,” Mom started her speech, not taking her strict gaze off me. “It’s always the same. You kids want to have fun. You think your parents are too old to understand that.” She took a small sip of her organic chamomile tea and continued, “There are the rules in this house that you should respect…”

  I listened to her and I didn’t say anything, as nothing needed to be said; we went through this scenario too many times to take the script seriously.

  As Mom and Dad talked, I watched them with attention that had more in common with curiosity than any real interest. There was only one thought in my head. They never asked why I snuck out in the first place. As I looked at Dad, nodding when I felt too long of a pause between his statements, I couldn’t get over that one simple thought. I couldn’t understand why they had to make a big scene if they didn’t even care. I knew they didn’t. Otherwise, what I was doing that night (they were sure I snuck out for the entire night, right?) would matter, and they would have asked me where I was. And maybe my answers to these questions would matter even more than the fact that I didn’t follow the rules.

  It felt like my parents wanted to remind themselves that they were actually raising me. This act was not meant for me. It was meant for them, so they could convince themselves that they were worried and therefore loved their child. A lump formed in my throat. I gulped and forced myself to squash the disappointment growing inside me.

  “So, do you have any plans for today?”

  Dad’s question returned me to reality.

  “Not really.” I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I’m grounded. There aren’t many options.”

  Dad got up from his chair. From the look on his face, he must have noticed my sadness. I watched the lines on my dad’s face smooth out as if he’d made a decision. He sighed and grabbed his coat from the counter. Then he took last big sip of coffee, banged the cup on the table, loud as always, and cleared his throat. “You’re not grounded anymore,” he said. “I hope we won’t have to come back to this conversation again.”

  He slung the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder, thanked Mom for lunch, and left. I helped Mom wash the dishes and soon after that she was gone too.

  ***

  I was already in bed when my phone started ringing. Awake, I stretched my arms up over my head and yawned widely. The annoying ringing finally got my attention. I glanced at my phone screen; an unknown number was calling.

  “Hello?”

  Max’s voice was different, lower and much more adult-like.

  “Hi, Max,” I said, my voice a little husky from sleep. I made a discreet attempt to clear my throat, but it only felt drier.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No, I was in bed, but you know… it’s okay,” I said, cursing myself for the awkward speech.

  “Was it bad today?”

  “No, everything was fine. I had fun,” I said hurriedly.

  Max laughed. “I mean with your parents. How did it go?”

  “Oh.” My cheeks immediately became hot. Thank God he couldn’t see me. “Fine too. I’m no longer grounded.”

  “How come?”

  “I guess they understood it didn’t make any sense.”

  Max paused. “Does this mean you’re free tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I guess so. Why?”

  “Let’s meet. I wanna see those trees in the sunshine and not worry about freezing to death.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I walked down the road leisurely. If anyone saw me, they’d think I came for a walk just to enjoy nature. And that would be a half-truth. Even though I did enjoy fresh air and fragrant trees, the only reason I walked so slowly was because I didn’t want to get there before Max.

  Under the bright sunlight, the fallen trees looked different. I touched the upper tree. A soft layer of moss covered its trunk, making it look elegant and rich, like a noblewoman who wore a green velvet dress for a soirée.

  I walked around the trees and froze. Max was there, stretched out in the exact place we were sitting together yesterday. His eyes were closed and his arms were thrown back behind his head. He was asleep. Curiosity got the better of me, so I squatted down beside him and studied his razor-sharp cheekbones, his softly rounded brows the same dark color as his hair, and his clearly defined, chapped lips. His eyelashes were much longer than mine. Suddenly those long eyelashes fluttered. Pale green eyes focused on my face. I blushed and looked away.

  “Hi,” I murmured.

  “Hey. How long was I out?” Max asked, blinking into wakefulness.

  “I don’t know. I just got here. Didn’t want to wake you.”

  I took off my backpack and pulled out a thermos with tea. Max whistled. “We’re fully equipped today, huh?” he said, making space for me to sit near him.

  I plopped down on the warm sand and opened my thermos. The smell of bergamot and ginger filled the air. Max leaned his back against the tree, blissfully smiling.

  A loud chirp came from somewhere behind the trees. The sound got closer and closer until a little bird perched on the tree right above us. It was like someone had glued a microphone to its beak. How else could you explain such a strong voice from such a tiny thing?

  “It’s nice to be a bird, isn’t it?” Max whispered.

  “Can’t tell you. Haven’t been one,” I whispered back.

  “How can you be so sure? Maybe you were a bird in a previous life.” His eyes twinkled with mischievous sparkles.

  “Well, if I was a bird, I’d definitely be a parrot. Or a penguin.” I chuckled.

  Max laughed. “And why’s that?”

  “Life seems to enjoy making fun of me.”

  “Don’t say that. Life doesn’t care about you,” he said in a serious tone.

  The bird stopped chirping and flew off.

  “Oh, how nice.” I laughed.

  Max took a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “I mean, seriously. Of course, there’s always a chance that some saintly folks hang around in the sky and take notes like who’ll become what and who’ll die how. But it’s just like Russell’s teapot: interesting, but highly unlikely.”

  “What’s Russell’s teapot?” I asked.

  Max brushed sand off his hands and folded his arms across his chest. “Bertrand Russell created this analogy where he claimed that a teapot orbits the sun somewhere in space.”

  “Why’d he do that?”

  “He wanted to show that if you make a false claim, just like he did with his space teapot, it’s your job to prove its veracity instead of making anyone else prove you’re wrong,” he said, and then added with a smile, “That guy wasn’t very religious.”

  I snorted. “How do you know all that?”

  Max shrugged. “From a philosophy group. I guess it’s the only thing I truly miss about my school.”

  “Well, philosophy group explains a lot,” I said, chuckling. “When did you graduate?”

  “A year ago,” he said.

  “You’re in college, then?”

  “No. I left my town as soon as I was done with school.” He snorted a short sarcastic laugh. “And not for college.”

  My eyebrows flew up. “You left home?” I repeated.

  He nodded.

  “But why?”

  “Because I couldn’t stay.”

  “Just like that—you packed your stuff and left? To go where?”

  Max gave me a thoughtful look. When he spoke, he pushed the words through his mouth with a hidden force as if he had to make an effort to share his story with me.

  “I had a plan: I worked as a pizza delivery guy my whole senior year. Made some savings. Then I bought my very own RV. It was old and couldn’t even start, but I fixed it. I remember the day I left so clearly, though. I went down the stairs, bag in my hand. My father looked at me like he couldn’t see me. He asked, ‘For how long?’ and I said, ‘Forever, I hope.’

  “His face didn’t change a bit—probably be
cause he was shit-wasted. I don’t know why, but I panicked. I tried to distract my mind, thinking about stuff I might forget to take with me. Finally he nodded and turned on the TV. I went outside, and all I heard was the laughter of a damn sitcom. Since then I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  Max gave me his half smile. “Yes. Shit.”

  “You’re patient. I can’t imagine myself waiting for a whole year to carry out my plan,” I said.

  Max didn’t reply. I glanced at him. His face was dark and gloomy now, hands clenched into fists. I held my breath. Anger flashed through his eyes until he looked away.

  “I’d planned it from the day my mother died,” he said through gritted teeth.

  A long silence fell upon us. Max didn’t look at me, focusing all his attention on the lake. I bet he didn’t see it. Something different flashed in his eyes, something so bad it made his fingers dig into his palms until his knuckles turned white. He bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry. I’ve got things to do. I’ll walk you home, okay?” he said, jumping to his feet.

  As he stretched out his hand to help me up, my gaze fell on his bracelet. It had frayed in one spot from continuous wear and was now tied together with a fresh knot. I took his hand and followed at his side, my heart heavy and my stomach seized with cold from some vague, sudden longing.

  ***

  “Okay, Foxy, now you can’t ignore me.”

  “Sorry I didn’t text you, Mel.”

  She paused. I could feel her indignation seeping through the phone.

  “I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

  “C’mon, was it that hard spending one day without me?”

  “Let me tell you something. I wanted to throw eggs at your window but realized I didn’t have eggs. And I was too lazy to bother anyway, so I called you instead—”

  I giggled. “Well, thank you for that.”

  “And if you don’t tell me what was so important that you ignored me, I’ll die from curiosity and they’ll write on my grave, ‘She even called first but everything was worthless. Her friend was a cold hearted…” Mel paused, then stressed the word, “ass.’ ”

  I laughed. “Too long of a phrase. More like, ‘She simply forgot they were about to meet.’ ”

  “You think I could make it till morning? Wait, but what about being grounded?”

  “I’ll explain everything to you, I promise. What time should we—”

  “Ten!”

  I raised my eyebrows. She was really dying to meet me if she was willing to get up so unusually early for her lazy butt.

  “Okay, ten it is, then.”

  “And don’t forget to think over your speech. I want all the juicy details,” Mel said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I put my phone down and took off my shoes. Mel was probably waiting for me to leave Max, so as soon as I stepped into my house and called her back, she attacked.

  Her gift of prophecy wasn’t any surprise; we had known each other since we were kids. I didn’t like Mel at first. Restless and moody, she really got on my nerves. We even fought once. She punched me in the nose with her little shovel and I shoved her onto the sand. We still laughed and argued about which one of us started the fight (I knew exactly who did it, but she’d never confess).

  I don’t remember exactly when we became friends. It just happened. It was a total disaster when our parents chose different schools for us. The last day of that summer, Mel and I were crying our eyes out, promising not to forget each other because we thought we’d never see each other again. Mel recalled a movie in which the main characters did a blood oath, so she took a pair of scissors, sat down next to me, and pierced her hand. Mel was outraged, though, because I hadn’t followed her lead.

  ***

  Mom paced around the room, blocking the TV screen from Dad. At first he nicely asked her to move, but soon lost it and started to shout.

  “Get away from the damn TV!”

  “I will when you get up and do something useful.”

  She approached an empty vase in the far corner of the room and looked inside it.

  “For God’s sake, what is it you’re looking for?”

  Leisurely, Mom walked back to the table covered in numerous papers and perfume samples. “Sales list,” she said over her shoulder.

  Dad squeezed his eyes shut. After a long pause, he pushed the words through gritted teeth, “Tell me, Martha, how that sales list could make it inside your creepy vase?”

  I didn’t hear Mom’s answer as I ran up the stairs and went into my room, shutting the door behind me.

  Later that night, I was playing with a crumpled-up paper, trying to throw it straight at the red circle on my calendar when my phone beeped. A message from Max:

  I’m at our place. Are you asleep?

  Our place. I smiled and, aiming carefully, threw the last piece of paper at the target. It hit the red circle and fell into the pile of papers already covering the floor. I clapped my hands with a triumphant cry.

  What’re you doing there?

  He didn’t text me back for five long minutes.

  Do you dream at night? Max finally replied.

  Okay, he was really good avoiding questions.

  Sometimes. You?

  No. At least when I wake up, I can’t remember anything.

  Don’t worry. Dreams aren’t that important.

  You only think so because you can dream. Dreams need inspiration.

  He didn’t give me a chance to answer and added, What do you dream about?

  I remembered my nightmares.

  Nothing serious. Just some memories, I guess.

  Lie, lie, lie.

  I heard some people can control them. Lucid dreaming, they call it.

  Yeah, I heard that too.

  Do you think if you learn how to control your dreams, you can control your life?

  I guess you could.

  Maybe you should try.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Did anyone tell you that you were born in the wrong generation? Romanticism ruled in the previous century.

  My phone remained silent for so long that I was already desperately waiting for the reply when the screen lit up again.

  There aren’t many perks of living in the 21st century, but one of them is the freedom of being yourself. Tell me how your dreams go. Good night, Lana.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I walk down the lakeshore. There’s not a soul around. I’m one-on-one with the endless sky and the impenetrable, restless forest. A drop of sweat slides down my temple. The air is unbearably hot. I’m in the old wool sweater Mom gave me for my birthday a long time ago. I want to take it off, but my arms are so heavy I can’t raise them. The sun burns even hotter. I try to raise my hands to my throat. My fingers clutch the sweat-drenched collar. I use all my strength on that one action—to pull that goddamn sweater off. Gradually it gives in and I gasp for air. I can breathe again.

  People appear on the shore. I know them: my former classmates, teachers, neighbors, and not far behind, my parents. I look at my dad; his expression is detached. He doesn’t see me.

  The people raise their heads. My skin burns under their blank stares. Someone starts to laugh. His voice sounds sheepish at the beginning. The guy next to him joins in. Then another one. And one more. Soon the whole shore is involved; everybody bows, pressing hands to their stomachs. Men point fingers at me while women whisper something with evil smiles on their faces. I cover my ears with my hands, trying to avoid the choir of madness. I’m motionless. My legs won’t move, it’s as if they’re rooted in the sand.

  I look down and scream. My sweater is gone. I’m standing with my top naked.

  “Mom! Dad! Help me, please!” I cry.

  They don’t hear me. They’re walking as if in a dream, unable to feel, unable to see me. I’m alone with the angry people. They stop laughing as abruptly as they started. They close in, grasping each other’s hands, encroaching on me like an unbreakable barricade of peop
le with unkind, menacing light flashing in their eyes. One of them leaves the circle. A heavy bat appears in his hands. He rushes to my side. The metal hilt gleams in the air. I scream…

  Something heavy fell on my head. I opened my eyes and touched it. Thank God, it was just my own arm. I swung it over the bed, blood rushing into vacant veins.

  Wincing from the tingling in my arm, the sensitivity came back slowly. I jumped out of bed and opened the window. Fresh air filled the room, making my skin crawl. I went to the bathroom, took a brief cold shower, and returned to my bed. I fell asleep immediately, only this time I was blessed with the absence of dreams.

  ***

  The door cracked open and light steps shuffled through my room. Someone sat next to me, running their fingers through my hair. Strong perfume tickled my nose.

  “Mom?” My voice was raspy with sleep.

  I opened my eyes and immediately squinted. Bright rays of sunlight beamed on my bed through the wide open window, flooding the room with light.

  “Good morning,” Mom said gently.

  “What time is it?” I asked with a yawn.

  “It’s nearly afternoon.”

  “Wait, what?” I exclaimed, rising up on my elbows.

  Mom smiled. “Looks like someone had such beautiful dreams she didn’t want to wake up,” she said, moving the books on my nightstand into a neat pile.

  “Umm… yeah. Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Because it’s Saturday, Lana. Are you feeling all right?”

  I nodded, brushing my messy hair away from my eyes.

  “I wanted to ask you to help me with my petunias in the backyard. After that we’re going to the greenhouse.”

  I glanced at her. “Greenhouse?” I asked.

  “Yes. You, your dad, and me.”

  “All together?” I asked again, my voice a higher pitch.

  “Yes.” She huffed. “Are you sure you’re all right?” She touched my forehead.

  “I’m fine, really, it’s just… very unexpected. But I promised Mel I’d meet her this morning. I’m already late. She’ll kill me.”