Under the Wicked Moon: A Novel

by Abe Moss

  “Oh, yeah…” He frowned. “I guess I have a tendency to just… say what I’m thinking, sometimes. I don’t always have the best filter. I demonstrated that pretty well a few minutes ago…” He laughed, shifting around on his side of the sofa.

  He looked at her, his expression rather sheepish, and they simply watched one another for a time. Maria’s thoughts traveled elsewhere, and she didn’t realize she was staring. She looked away, at the surrounding party still carrying on around them. New people were coming through the front door, just arriving.

  “When did it happen, if it’s okay to ask?” Jessup was looking at the scars on her neck. She hoped he wasn’t using her scars just to fill the silence, to make conversation. Part of her believed he was truly curious.

  “Only a year ago,” she said. She wanted so badly to touch her neck, to put her hand over it, to feel it and also to conceal it, even if just for a short time. She resisted. “Almost died.”

  “Wow…” His eyes lingered on her throat for a time. Somehow, Maria felt both self-conscious and also…

  Thrilled?

  He stared at her scars with hardly an ounce of self-awareness, and yet there was no judgement there. Only curiosity. Each time their eyes met, she sensed only admiration from him. A strange boy, she thought.

  She was suddenly hit with the urge to pee. She was thankful for it. She straightened on the couch, hands on her knees.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she said. “It was nice talking to you.”

  “Oh!” He smiled, disappointment furrowing his brow. “Yeah, it was nice meeting you. Maria, right?”

  She nodded.

  “If you find yourself needing to appear sociable, I’ll be sitting here the rest of the night,” he said.

  Taking a breath, giving him one last courteous smile, Maria jumped to her feet and hurried away. Like ripping off a bandage. She weaved her way between the circles of party-goers, making eye-contact with no one on the way. As she entered the kitchen, she realized she had no idea where she was going or where the bathroom was. She’d just been eager to escape. Not because the boy—his name was Jessup—had discomforted her or imposed, but because…

  “Excuse me,” she said, interrupting a conversation between two girls standing near the kitchen counter. They regarded her with friendly faces. “You know where there’s a bathroom?”

  One girl brightened, happy to help. “Just through there, past the laundry room. On the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  She casually continued on, glancing at those around her, distantly wondering where Dolly was now. Out on the patio still, perhaps?

  Into the laundry room, she spotted the bathroom door. It was currently shut, light shining through the cracks. She leaned against the washing machine in the dark, waiting patiently. Sterling’s washing machine.

  A minute went by until the bathroom door opened. A young man stepped out. Going unnoticed as he made his way past her and into the kitchen, Maria felt incredibly creepy standing in the dark like she was. She hurried into the bathroom and shut the door.

  She pulled out her phone as she relieved herself, seeing the three notifications again. All from her mother. The longer she waited to read them, the harder it would be, she knew. Even now, she surmised she probably wouldn’t get around to it until the following morning. When her mind was rested and clear. Just before she had to go to work…

  She had an oppressive suspicion the messages wouldn’t make her day any better.

  She finished on the toilet. Washing her hands at the sink, she pulled the sleeves up on her hoodie. Her left arm. The awful, gouging scars all around it. A hideous divot where a chunk had been taken out of her. The water running, she lost herself in thought staring at the gnarled flesh which had been restored and repaired as best as the doctors could. At least it still functioned, she thought.

  She remembered herself, the wasted water pouring, pouring, pouring. She glanced into the mirror, at the other scars there she saw every day.

  —even with the scars—

  Her throat looked nothing like a throat should. She avoided looking in mirrors if she could help it. Could be worse, she told herself.

  I hardly even noticed.

  She’d heard many lies the past year. People wanted to be nice. People were nice, she knew. Didn’t make it any easier, though…

  She bowed her head toward the sink as she washed her hands. Enough with the mirrors. Scrubbing and working the soap into a lather, she thought of Jessup, sitting out on the couch with the dog still on his lap. Waiting. She entertained the thought of joining him again. Talking with him. He hadn’t lied, she thought. He didn’t say anything to try and make her feel better about her appearance. He’d only noticed, and that was that. Reflecting on their exchange, she appreciated it.

  She flicked her eyes up into the bathroom mirror one last time, just for a second. She glimpsed the twisted scars along her throat again, burning with private shame. Even she couldn’t help looking sometimes. But in that single moment, that brief second of looking, something else in the mirror caught her eye. Movement.

  Movement in the room with her. Behind her.

  She stiffened. She jerked to her left, looking over her shoulder, gasping.

  There was a naked man sunk into the corner of the ceiling. Yes, the ceiling. Hovering there like a giant spider above the bathtub. Dark circles around his sorry eyes. Pleading eyes. Maria met his intense gaze, chest heaving, out of breath. As she realized who it was, realized that she wasn’t in any danger, she let out a great, irritated sigh.

  “Please,” he said, desperate as she turned her back to him and finished rinsing her hands in the sink. “Help me.”

  She washed the soap away under the running water. The dark shape of his naked body continued to float in the periphery of her vision. She refused to look a second time. He’d fooled her at first, she admitted. But not again.

  “Please…”

  “Leave me alone,” she muttered. She turned off the tap and shook her wet hands in the sink. She turned her back to him further, toward the towel on its rack where she dried herself. “I liked you better with your mouth sewn shut…”

  She turned off the bathroom light, stepped into the laundry room, and left the floating apparition in the dark where it belonged.

  Now she moved through the house with a different kind of haste. As she passed all the same faces, she didn’t bother looking for Dolly. As she moved from the kitchen into the living room, she headed immediately for the front door. She looked at no one. Paused for no one. She stepped outside onto the chilly porch. The same two people were standing there, chain smoking cigarettes together.

  Shutting the door behind herself, Maria didn’t look to the sofa across the living room, or the boy seated there with a dog in his lap. As she departed for the night, more than happy to walk alone, she put everything and everyone inside that house behind her without a second thought.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  It was a longer walk home than she’d anticipated. Her sneakers slapped and scuffed the pavement in her rush. A breeze picked up, piercing her hoodie and jeans like they were made of toilet paper, and she shivered. It was late enough now, there were fewer cars on the road. Fewer kids outside. Her dorm was a couple miles away. Not too far, she thought.

  Her phone buzzed in her hoodie’s pouch and her face flushed with anger. She pulled it out muttering to herself.

  “Jesus Christ… how many times do you need—”

  The most recent text wasn’t from her mother like she thought. It was Dolly. She opened the conversation and read the message.

  Did you leave? Is everything okay?”

  Glancing repeatedly at the shifting sidewalk under her feet, Maria chewed the inside of her lip, thinking.

  She responded: Yeah everything’s cool. Just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow! Have fun!

  As she closed hers and Dolly’s conversation, she saw her mother’s messages were up to four now. She’d received one unnoticed at s
ome point since leaving Sterling’s. With her list of conversations open, she caught a short preview of her mother’s most recent message.

  Goodnight. Love you. Let me know in the…

  Maria hovered over the conversation with her thumb, debating. She glanced at the sidewalk, careful not to trip over the bulging, broken chunks of pavement, tree roots wreaking havoc underneath. She looked to the quiet street, at the small apartment complexes across the nearby intersection, shadows of yet even more college students busying about in the lit windows. The streetlamps grew suddenly blurry in her vision, their light daggering out like stars. She looked to her phone again, at the unread messages. She blinked and spilled a tear on the glass.

  Goodnight. Love you. Let me know in the…

  She slipped her phone back into her pouch pocket. Sniffling, she wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. She cleared her throat.

  The soon-to-be-spring air was crisp and cool on her wet cheeks.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The apartment was deathly silent when she came through the door. Empty as a tomb. She closed the door and, with her back against it, sighed with sweet, sweet relief…

  “Thank god…”

  No longer in any hurry, she used the bathroom and got ready for bed. She stepped into her room and shut the door. Privacy. Time to herself. The things she looked forward to most all day, every day. She undressed and turned off the light. She climbed into bed with a tired grunt. Sleep couldn’t release her soon enough…

  Holding that thought, she turned and grabbed her phone off her nightstand. She rolled onto her back, raising it precariously above her face in the dark. To her right, in the scarce moonlight coming through the window blinds, there stood a dark figure. A presence. Silent but watching. Always watching.

  Maria woke her phone, drowning her vision in its bright light. The same four unread messages. All from her mother. With a final moment of reluctance, she tapped the conversation and began reading.

  The first: Hey, I know next week is your spring break. Your father and I would love to see you sometime if you’re not too busy with school or other plans.

  The second: It would mean a lot to me if you came with me to visit Michael.

  Maria lowered her phone against her chest, bringing herself back into the dark. The silhouette at the window hadn’t moved. She avoided looking directly at it. She stared at the ceiling instead.

  She blinked her brimming eyes, holding back her emotions as best she could. She lifted her phone again to finish reading.

  The third: If you’re uncomfortable with that, I understand.

  Then the goodnight message. The ‘I love you’ message. Maria couldn’t help it. She cried. The room was dark and she was alone.

  Nearly.

  She set her phone on top of her nightstand and lay on her side, the window at her back. She allowed herself to feel. All of it. She sobbed loudly, sucking in air. She pulled her sheet up in her hands, bunched it up and buried her face into it. Her hot breath.

  Something rustled in the dark. Movement at the window. Maria took a deep, shuddery breath, listening, and felt her sadness boiling over into something else. She clenched the damp sheets in her fists. She heard it again, a fidgeting. Feet on the carpet. Shifting weight from one leg to the other.

  In a flash of rage, she bolted upright, pounding the sheet down in her fists on either side of herself as she cast her wrathful glare toward the dark figure beside her bed.

  “Won’t you leave me alone!?” she screamed, her voice erupting torn and shrill. “Please!”

  She collapsed onto her back, head on her pillow, eyes closed, hands weak and shaking at her sides. She moaned, wishing the tears would dry up but instead they kept coming and coming. Her next breath came out as a growl, tired of it all. The pent-up grief. Her mother’s incessant need to lean on her, and the guilt that came with refusing her. She wanted to be left alone about it. To forget about it. Wasn’t going through it once enough?

  She realized she was clenching her jaw. She pursed her lips and let out a long, slow whistle of breath. Easing out of it. Letting it wash away. Her body relaxed. She blinked the last of her tears away. Exhausted.

  When she looked to the window next, the figure was gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  GLIMMERS AND SHADOWS

  It was a slow morning waiting tables at the old Holy Moly Buffet. And yes, as Maria frequently told others when asked where she worked, that was the actual name of the establishment.

  She took a ‘smoke break’ out back, though she didn’t really smoke. Might as well take advantage of the benefit given to nearly all her coworkers, she thought. Normally she simply sat on one of the stacks of drink crates by the dumpsters and read news on her phone for a few minutes. Today, however, there were other more pressing matters on her mind.

  She’d yet to respond to her mother’s messages, and now she’d received one from her father. It read: Please text your mother back. Better yet, call. We’re worried about you.

  A cannonball of guilt and reluctance struck her as she first read it. For the next ten minutes of her break, naturally she read it over and over again, agonizing, dreading.

  Finally, she replied: At work right now. Will call you after.

  The back door opened and she looked up to see her coworker stepping outside. Sharon.

  “Slow day, huh?” Sharon said, pulling a cigarette from its pack and stuffing the box into the pocket of her black uniform vest. She lit it and took a single, slow drag. She blew a cloud from the corner of her mouth. “You look awful, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Maria stood from the stack of drink crates and gestured for Sharon to sit.

  “No thanks, I’ll stand.” She stared plainly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah…” Maria waved her phone. “Just family drama.”

  Sharon nodded. She took another drag, held it a bit, then let it out as she spoke. “Makes you feel any better, my mother-in-law died a week ago. Did I tell you that already?”

  Maria shrugged, frowning. “Why would that make me feel better?”

  Sharon smiled cleverly. “It made me feel better.”

  Smiling, Maria shook her head judgingly.

  “Well, then I’m happy for you.”

  She returned inside. As she started through the kitchen—the sounds of meat sizzling and the scraping of metal turners—a male coworker turned the corner from out on the floor and his eyes grew big at the sight of her.

  “Two very handsome boys were just seated in your section. Just FYI.”

  “Very handsome boys, you say?” Maria asked, merely playing along.

  “Mmhmm…”

  She donned her apron and tied it behind her back. Smoothing it out, taking one final breath from the comfort of the kitchen, she pulled out her pen and pad and left to see about these handsome boys.

  As she stepped onto the floor, casting her eyes in the direction of her meager, deserted section, she spotted the table in question. There were two young men seated there, looking to be about her age, possibly a year or two older. One of them she saw clearly, facing her. Clean-cut, blonde. Average overall, she thought. It wasn’t until she neared their table and came to stand beside them that she saw the second boy, whose back had previously been toward her. He smiled as he looked up and saw her.

  “Oh my…” Maria bowed her head, doing her best to appear humored when in reality she wished nothing more than to flee back into the kitchen and announce she wasn’t feeling well and insist she needed to call it a day…

  “Oh, hey!” the young man said. Jessup, if Maria remembered right. “It’s you!”

  Maria straightened, pulled her shoulders back for good posture, deciding on professionalism above all else. A deep sigh escaped her in the process, however. Jessup’s friend scrunched his face in his attempt not to lose his composure.

  “It’s me,” Maria said flatly. She smiled congenially as her eyes flitted between Jessup and his snorting friend. “What a coincidence.”

&nb
sp; “It really is,” Jessup told her, detecting the suspicion in her voice, or the clear-as-day ‘you’re not fooling me’ expression on her face. “I swear I had no idea.”

  Maria stuffed her pen and pad back into her apron pocket, deciding she wouldn’t need them.

  “What drinks can I start you both off with?”

  Jessup’s friend, swallowing his amusement, asked for water.

  “And you?” Maria turned to Jessup, burning with both embarrassment and seething contempt. If it truly was a coincidence, he could hardly be blamed, she knew. But it seemed all too obvious that wasn’t the case. He’d brought the wrong company along if he’d wished to play it that way.

  “I’ll just have water as well.”

  Maria closed her eyes and nodded politely. “I’ll have those right out to you. In the meantime, feel free to help yourselves.”

  She returned to the kitchen, legs swishing mighty fast in her desire to escape their fields of vision. She couldn’t know for sure unless she looked for herself, but she thought she felt their eyes upon her as she left them, both beside themselves with hilarity.

  She fetched their drinks and when she brought them by, they were both away from their table filling their plates with food. Another table was seated in her section, an older couple. Once she finished tending to them, she started for the kitchen once more and happened to glance at Jessup on the way, returning to his seat with a full plate in his hand. He gave a sweet, awkward kind of smile which she returned.

  She’d visit a couple times to collect plates and see if they needed anything, she thought, and to fill up their water. That’s all they’d need. Easy-peasy. A half hour from now, they’d be gone and she could breathe.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Much to Maria’s sinking heart, Jessup stopped her on his way out. She’d never seen such an apologetic, guilty, but also kind face.

  “Can I talk to you real quick before I go?”

  She paused, glancing toward the tables in her section which had steadily filled up, not to mention Jessup’s table which she needed to bus as soon as possible.