Galaxy's Edge Magazine

by Orson Scott Card

  Her mom doesn’t want a cat. She says Who’s going to and then she says other stuff. And then dad says something and then there’s more of the yelling that makes Sarah throw pooh at the wall.

  A few days later they get a cat but dad doesn’t come with them. Paul’s mad he doesn’t get a cat too so he complains and mom has to drag him along the sidewalk. The shelter is on owl trail road which is out in the country. She doesn’t see any owls. There are big trees everywhere. The driveway is dirt. There’s a big metal fence with a black dog behind it. The shelter is made from blocks painted to be shiny like daycare.

  Sarah wants a kitten but her mom says no kittens. They’re too small she says. You’ll hold it too tight and hurt it. So they go to the big cat room in the back where the walls are painted green. She looks in all the shiny cages. There are two or three cats in each cage with a cardboard box with dirt and little bowls for food and water and towels to sleep on. There’s poop in some of the little boxes and it’s very interesting because it’s so small and neat. Sarah imagines what it would be like to live in a little cage like that with a towel and some other cats. Meow she says trying it out. Meow the cats say back.

  Sarah stops in front of a cage with one cat all by itself. The cat is the biggest of all and has orange and black and white spots all over and gray stripes on her tail and her feet have white toes. The cat and Sarah look at each other for a long time. The cat’s eyes are yellow under the buzzing lights. She looks fierce.

  This one Sarah says.

  They open the cage door and mom picks the cat up but it wiggles a lot. Sarah touches the cat’s fur which is soft like a bunny. The cat turns her head and takes Sarah’s hand in her mouth.

  She’s biting you! mom says. Not this one, Sarah. Get a nicer cat.

  This one Sarah says again. She’s not either biting me. But she feels little sharp teeth pressing into her finger.

  The cat comes home with them but Sarah has to scream a little bit first. Mom asks what her name is and Sarah says Penny because of the spots.

  Sarah knows that Penny is not really a cat. That’s why she didn’t say about the bite. She sees something mad and bad looking out of the bitey cat’s yellow eyes and she understands because she’s mad and bad sometimes, too.

  * * *

  Sarah’s the only person who likes Penny. Mom tries to pat her when they get home and Penny just bites her. I’ll let her settle in mom says but Penny bites mom two days later and a day after that and then mom stays away and only feeds her is all. She doesn’t bite dad even once but he keeps his hands away and just talks. Sarah thinks Penny likes how his voice is so low. Paul is still mad Penny isn’t his cat and when he tries to play she bites him too.

  Sometimes mom or someone else pats the bitey cat for a few seconds before she bites them but there are times she bites people even when they’re not doing anything or she even follows them from room to room when they’re doing something else and she bites at their feet. The bites don’t make anyone bleed but sometimes they leave little white holes.

  The bitey cat makes mom cry one day. I just don’t know what to do mom says. She bites everyone.

  She never bites me Sarah says but this is a lie.

  Cats do lots of interesting things and Sarah follows her around. Penny makes little mouth noises when she eats crunchy food from a bowl on the floor. Penny pees in a box. Penny looks out windows. Penny jumps up on things.

  Penny goes outside whenever she wants out of a special door made just for cats. Sarah can hear the door click from anywhere in the house and she runs to the back hall and looks out the little flap to watch Penny walk across the backyard around the corner of the garage.

  Sometimes in the afternoon Penny sleeps on the floor in the sun and Sarah tries it too. She curls up right next to her with her face inches from Penny’s. She can smell her breath and see how pretty her fur is in the sun. When Penny’s eyes are open Sarah can see stripes in them.

  Sarah knows that Penny is really a monster. She is huge and fierce and could kill you any time she wanted except now she’s a cat with spots and stripes and white toes. But Penny remembers. That’s why she’s mad all the time. That’s why she bites everyone. That’s why she even bites Sarah sometimes when Sarah’s not even doing anything to her.

  At night she lies on the foot of Sarah’s bed like a little spotty lion. Her eyes are yellow in the hall light. Sometimes she comes up next to Sarah and lies down so close that Sarah can feel her warmness. Sometimes Sarah can’t stand it anymore and she puts her hand on Penny’s soft fur and then the cat bites her. But gently and her sharp teeth are like a good night kiss.

  * * *

  Sarah thinks she knows what divorce is going to be like but she doesn’t. Dad’s not there very much. Mom cries a lot and is busy on the phone. Sometimes she forgets to take Sarah’s pooh in the car when they’re going somewhere. It always takes Sarah a long time to brush her teeth and mom gets mad. When they are at home Paul stays in his room playing neopets. Sarah and Paul have to be with Kara next door or in daycare a lot.

  Sarah pees in her bed one night. She’s scared to wake mom up, so she sleeps on the floor in her doorway with her blanket and pooh for a pillow. Penny sleeps next to her. And in the morning mom comes and Sarah knows she’s mad even though she doesn’t say anything. Sarah starts to scream and then she starts thrashing. Mom tries to hold her but Sarah bites her on the arm even though she hasn’t bitten anyone since Tim G in daycare. Mom snatches her arm back. There’s a look on her face like being scared.

  This makes Sarah want to bite people more. At least they notice her then. At least then she knows why they don’t love her even if she wishes they did anyway.

  * * *

  Sarah and Paul and the bitey cat are in the family room. Paul’s got his neopet and she wants to look at it. They start rolling around and fighting but quiet because they don’t want mom to come in from the kitchen. He accidentally kicks Penny and she howls and runs away. So Sarah bites him and when he tries to get away she bites him harder.

  Then there’s blood all over Paul’s arm. Sarah can feel skin in her mouth. Paul’s screaming. Mom runs in from the kitchen still holding the phone. Mom grabs Paul up and grabs Sarah by the hand. You just wait mom says. I’m taking Paul to the hospital and you are going over to Kara’s house. And she starts crying. How could you do this? Mom has never used that tone of voice before. Sarah starts to scream but this time it doesn’t work. Mom doesn’t even bring pooh when they go next door and Penny isn’t anywhere.

  Kara is nice. She gets pooh when she sees Sarah doesn’t have him and wraps her in a blanket and puts her on the red couch where she can hear the TV. So Sarah feels okay asking if she can go pee.

  Do you need any help? Kara asks. Sarah shakes her head. Okay then Kara says. Sarah tiptoes into the hall to where she knows the little bathroom is right by the back door. There’s a big window in the door. She can see yellow eyes shining in the backyard. Sarah knows about not going outside alone but this isn’t her back door and it’s not locked and mom is mad and Paul is all covered with blood and Penny’s walking away.

  She opens it and goes outside.

  * * *

  The only times Sarah has ever been outside at night she’s always been in mom’s or dad’s arms or in the car seat watching the lights.

  The alley is different than that. The light is only in places where the poles are. The little rocks are cold and sharp and hurt her feet. Penny walks way off to one side by the bushes which are full of black. She stops to smell things and Sarah does the same thing. Even though Sarah knows she’s not supposed to go into the street she follows Penny because Penny shouldn’t either and Sarah’s a monster now. They’re going to be fierce together and bite things and kill them. They can protect each other.

  Penny is suddenly lit bright from one side and there’s a car right there.

  This is what happens n
ext. Mom says she was coming home from the hospital and she saw Sarah in the street and slammed on the brakes and skidded into a utility pole. But Sarah knows what really happened. She and Penny see the headlights like giant eyes. And Penny arches her back and hisses and gets very big. Bigger than the car. Bigger than a house. And the car squeals and jumps out of Penny’s way and then it hits a pole and dies.

  And mom and Paul get out of the car and Paul’s arm is wrapped in white stuff. And mom’s crying really hard only it’s okay because mom isn’t holding a phone or yelling at dad. She’s holding Sarah and Paul. Sarah starts to cry.

  * * *

  They can’t find Penny anywhere even though mom and then dad look for her but Sarah wakes up one night and there’s Penny so close that Sarah can smell her breath. Sarah puts her hand on the bitey cat’s soft fur. Penny holds her hand in her mouth for a moment but it doesn’t hurt at all.

  Dad doesn’t come back to live with them but Sarah and Paul stay with him sometimes and Sarah has her own room there. After a while mom stops crying all the time and even takes Sarah to the park. The big ragged bite on Paul’s arm turns into a scar.

  No one else ever sees Penny again. But Sarah does sometimes at night, until she grows too old and forgets to look for her.

  Copyright © 2012 by Kij Johnson

  We’re happy to welcome M. E. Garber to the pages of Galaxy’s Edge. Her work has previously appeared in Abyss & Apex, Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet, and Daily Science Fiction.

  AFTER THE STORY ENDS

  by M. E. Garber

  You can never go home.

  I never considered the phrase before, but here beside my husband in the dim nursery, the truth of it slams into me, and my jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache. My fingers curl into fists despite my command they—that I—remain calm.

  After all, I have returned home from Fairy; my daughter and I are safe. That story is done. I have seen to it.

  I hope my husband doesn’t notice my distress. James has put up with so much already. Surely I can handle this. This lack.

  “Melanie, calm down.”

  James lifts my right hand. Nestled within his large palms, my smaller hand is cool, although I’m not chilled. He holds me with a gentleness that once would have taken my breath away, but now feels remote. His gaze lingers on mine.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I cannot bear that, like everything around me, the pain in his eyes is dull. Not the sharply beautiful thing it would have been in Fairy.

  And I hate him for it.

  He misunderstands my slight wince.

  “Aurora is safe, asleep in her crib. Look. Use the witchstone again, if it helps.” He nods to the naturally-drilled rock, that breaker of Fae enchantments, always beside the crib.

  I turn away, placing my free hand over my face, unwilling to let him see my revulsion. This is my struggle, not his.

  A memory of a breathtaking Fairysong rises in my mind: a dozen Fae voices harmonizing beneath two haunting descants, in a glorious tribute to a noble life wrest from adversity. My guts twist, wrenching against the hard, diamond-bright pain inside me. More memories rise up, intense and vivid. Colors. Smells. Scents.

  I shiver. Fairy was more dangerous than I could have dreamed. And so much more exhilarating than this bland mortal realm.

  My excursion to retrieve our daughter left these...scars...in me. But I’m not an addict! Time will change how I feel, so I must be patient.

  James’s grips tightens, and distress wrinkles pinch his eyes, while worry knits his brow into knots.

  “Do you want me to call the priest? He can excise your memories, cast out their traces—”

  Panicky, I withdraw from his sticky, overheated grasp. My hand cools instantly. Those memories are the only things keeping me going.

  “No. James, please. Don’t...”

  But I can’t finish. I don’t know how, don’t know what he shouldn’t do. Not love me? No, never that. I need him. And his patience. I wrap my arms around myself in a cold, hard hug.

  I am strong enough to do this. Like I was strong enough to bring Aurora back. I tighten my jaw.

  James’s sigh fills the room, and Aurora hrms and turns in her sleep, echoing her father.

  At her sigh, a sudden terror grips me. I choke on an indrawn gasp while, trembling, I lean over the crib and gaze on my child.

  Safe. Here. My breathing calms.

  Aurora’s unscarred by the trauma, not a mark on her warm brown skin. She hasn’t had so much as one bad dream since the priest’s blessing broke the Fae touch upon our return.

  But she’s oddly drab, not radiant like the Fae children, who’d sparkled in sunlight and glowed even in shadows. Why have I never noticed this before?

  I frown, and James is instantly alert.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice is breathy and quick. Nervous.

  “Nothing. Just—nothing.”

  I close my eyes and lay a finger on my daughter’s cheek, stroking her as I try to recall the anguished love the very sight of her used to bring. The memory of that emotion lingers, hazy but warm.

  With practice, I can force it real again.

  I turn to James, press my eyes closed and my jaw tight, and lean against him, feeling his warmth. His arms encircle me, pulling me into an embrace. The weight of his chin nestles onto the top of my head, enclosing me utterly.

  I try not to struggle. You used to love this. You used to love him. But I fidget, prickly with overheating.

  He exhales and draws away, his hands leaving my arms with a gentle pat. As cool air washes over me, I exhale, and my body unclenches.

  “I just need time,” I tell him, and force myself to believe it.

  He nods, and says nothing more.

  * * *

  Another week scuds by, my senses swaddled in dingy gray gauze.

  Our neighbors and friends—all the people of our small town—are so happy for us. They stop us on the street, smiling, filled with some sense of a shared victory against the thieving Fae. They want to be part of our joy, our happily-ever-after.

  I cannot look at them. They are misguided fools, they are bleating sheep, all alike and dull dull dull.

  James makes apologies for me each time I walk away. I hear the words—trauma, shock, a passing phase—and see the worried glances thrown my way.

  But they’re beginning to leave me alone. I prefer the solitude; it’s clean, if boring.

  On this overcast afternoon, James is talking with the octogenarian sisters, Eliza Deering and Jasmine Beech. I see them coo over Aurora, so tiny in James’s arms. Soon their bobbing heads and furtive glances tell me I’m their topic.

  I look beyond them, at the drab trees, pretending I don’t notice.

  A dry, unfamiliar voice beside my elbow makes me jump.

  “Next year at this time, that pair will have forgotten all about this. If they’re still alive.”

  I look down to find Lenora Hutchins, a petite, sturdy woman of sixty, appraising me. One of her iron-gray eyebrows is raised while the other slouches down, unimpressed.

  She’s known to me only by reputation. A recluse, Lenora lives outside town in a tiny cottage surrounded by rattling bottle trees and witch balls, and is famous—or infamous—for being the last person to venture into Fairy, return and remain here, some forty years ago. My return sparked tales of her trip, and comparisons have been drawn between us. They are not complimentary; not to either of us. Our town doesn’t like “eccentrics.”

  A peculiar light shines in Lenora’s eyes. Challenging.

  I return a cool stare, not backing down.

  My arms prickle with gooseflesh as I notice her arms. Her skin randomly sparkles, as if she’s coated with a fine dust that catches and reflects in the weak sun. As if some of Fairy still adheres to her, after all these years.

  My gaze clings to
those shimmers, the evanescent beauty of that other world. Without thinking, I reach out and run my hand over her arm, from elbow to wrist. Where the glinting shines, she’s lovely—smooth and youthful. And when they wink out, she’s old, with wrinkled, sagging skin blotched with age spots. Mortal.

  Imperfect.

  I yank away, but my eyes rove, seeking that Fairy light as it glitters and disappears, feeding on it like an addict getting a fix. My need disgusts me, but I can’t look away, can’t stop myself.

  Her deep, humorless laugh snaps me out of it.

  “You’ve been there, all right. The question is, will you stay, or return?” Her head tilts to one side as she considers.

  I muster all my dignity, cloaking myself in it to straighten my spine as I say, “I’m not going back. I brought my daughter home. That’s the only reason I went.”

  “Sure,” she agrees. But her tone says she doesn’t believe me. That I’m little more than one of the fools who plays with fire, not believing she can get burned. “But when you decide to go back, come see me first.”

  Before I can protest, she walks away, the effervescing glimmers dying out as if they’d never existed.

  James calls to me, and I turn, telling him to wait. When I look back, Lenora is gone. Winked out of existence, as if the border had opened up and swallowed her.

  I stifle my disappointment and follow my husband to our house.

  * * *

  At dinner, I stare at my plate, unable to eat.

  Memories of Fae food flood me, and my mouth waters. Just the scent of that food was more rich and filling than anything I’ve eaten since my return.

  But I will not starve myself. Under James’s watchful stare, I swallow a single bite, and wash it down with water as tasteless as the food.