Elemental: Chapter Five, Part 1

Chapter Five: In A New Light

I woke up to the sound of rustling leaves and was instantly alert; I didn’t dare move, worried it might be something predatory attracted by motion. It’s what happens when you’ve seen too many horror flicks.

Voices engaged passionately, arguing before switching to more romantic whispers. For certain, one belonged to a woman, and the other was unmistakably Drei’s.

“Why are you not at the camp?” Drei demanded angrily, keeping his voice low.

“We were worried. You are taking far too long,” the woman snapped.

“You do not have the authority to leave unless it is an emergency.”

“Sorry if we perceive your prolonged absence as an emergency,” she said quietly, as though it injured her to hear him so upset. “You are the one who started the program.”

“Understandable. But still,” Drei replied, softening. “The children come first.”

“When should we expect you?”

“At sunrise.”

“And will there be any more of these extended tours?” she questioned as though inquiring on behalf of someone else.

Drei was silent a moment before answering, “Not after my return.”

There was rustling again and then silence. I thought she had left until she said, “What is so special about her?” The way she said it wasn’t offensive, or defensive. It was inquisitiveness that prodded her inquiry, and I caught a note of melancholy in her voice as well.

“I will tell you later,” he said simply, sounding as though he was wearing a secretive smile.

When she left—which I sensed more than heard—Drei walked over to where I still lay and touched my shoulder, not allowing a moment to process what I had heard.

“Time to wake,” he said gently, but distractedly.

I played at just waking, though, typically, he would have known different. It worried me such a visit could drive him so far from me. And just when I was starting to feel he was letting me in.

Elemental: Chapter Four, Part 3

That morning I sat watching the sunrise. I suspected Drei failed to sleep as well, despite his curled appearance. He seemed to know more than I gave him credit for, and it made me question if he ever revered sunrises as he did the moon. In all his years, did he ever find hope in the coming of the new day? Or had he always been content with the loneliness of night?

Over the next week, Drei inquired of my past, though part of me was convinced he already knew much of it. In the midst of this storytelling, I came to realize all of my worthwhile, fun, exciting, revealing stories featured my father spending time with me. Not family time. Just one on one time. Shopping and storytelling, other things along those lines, plus the basics to life: bike riding, reading, writing, first camping trip. By the time I reached things like first dates, he was working more often away from home.

Granted, all of this was against my plan of forgetting everything I was leaving behind. Perhaps Drei thought the good memories would suppress the nightmarish ones.

He would even occasionally comment on his own life when I neared a livid memory or a forgotten woe. His life amazed me. Well, life is too general a term since it was more glimpses and pieces. He spoke most often of his younger twin sisters and protecting them. Each time I questioned what had happened to them, he burrowed away from me, leaving me to wonder what could have gone so terribly wrong.

“We will be there tomorrow around sunrise,” Drei informed me toward the start of our fourth week of travel.

Camp for the night had already been settled and I was on the verge of sleep. The knowledge of being able to sleep on something more comfortable than grass lifted my spirits. We hadn’t seen a small town for several days and the lack of people was starting to take its toll as well. Mostly, I was just weary of traveling.

“Tell me a story, Drei,” I requested, yawning, “about you and your sisters.”

Drei faced me from where he lay, a bemused smile playing across his lips. “You enjoy my stories as much as I enjoy yours.” I laid half-awake, waiting for his words to lull me to sleep.

There was a smile in his voice as he started; “One night, Avery and Ashlyn were running through the halls. They did it often enough, since there were no adults awake to stop them.” He paused momentarily, as if reassuring his grasp on that particular memory. “But it was different. I had not noticed Ashlyn’s hoarse cries until their third passing. It was upsetting; their jaunts were usually filled with laughter and private jokes. To hear her hoarse and pleading, and Avery not at all, was startling for me; so I awaited their next passing outside my room.

“Both stopped in their tracks at the sight of me, as though I were a ghost or some other menacing figure of the night. Ashlyn appeared to hold back tears to keep up a steady chase, but now she burst, wave after wave washing from her eyes. Avery clung protectively to a leather bound volume before releasing it and bursting as well.”

Solemnity filled his voice as he spoke. Whatever had happened to them made this memory hard for him to share; I wondered why he would do so if it hurt him.

“I walked to my sisters, kneeling between them and questioning what had transpired. Avery, it became clear, had taken Ashlyn’s favorite volume of illustrated fairy tales. At my suggestion, we stole away to my room, the book in my custody. Avery and Ashlyn sat on either side of me, our backs to the wall; Avery apologized as her sniffling subsided, but Ashlyn did not want to forgive her; she said just as much. She looked to cry again until Ashlyn climbed over me and fiercely hugged her.

“‘I love you,’ she told Avery.

“I surprised her when I said, ‘Then you forgive her.’ Her natural question was ‘why’, to which my reply was, ‘Because when you love someone, you always forgive them.’ That is what I told them that night, and I still believe it.”

Drei stopped a moment. Despite my weariness, I could feel him debating whether to continue or let that be the end. Whatever he decided would be fine with me. I could already feel myself slipping away.

“After their reconciliation and a few lighthearted laughs at the expense of everyone present,” he continued, his tone brightening, “I read the last story of the volume to my sisters. They were slumped sleepily against me about halfway through. Before they slipped completely off to sleep, Avery said, ‘Thank you,’ and Ashlyn added, ‘We love you, Drei.’”

Hearing the official end of the story, I slipped deeper toward sleep. Just before entering complete unconsciousness, however, I thought I heard Drei whisper, “I will always forgive you, Abriel.” And I couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t mean something more than that. That perhaps he meant he loved me.

Elemental: Chapter Four, Part 2

The nights blended together in a comforting monotony. Drei seemed shocked I had adjusted so quickly to his sleep pattern. It allowed us to move along more quickly if we were awake at the same times, I had reasoned aloud. The truth was I had nothing to change; I hadn’t been sleeping at night unassisted for a long while.

When we came to cities, we generally used a taxi to cross, giving our bodies a rest from the endless hikes through hilly countryside. We never stayed in town; we just passed through. It might have seemed odd to the cab driver, but Drei knew each one we used. They knew his peculiarities and didn’t ask questions. A few did babble on about families and work when Drei casually prompted. The sound of their voices was pleasant after wordless nights between the two of us. I had a feeling Drei knew their nonsense comforted me. He smiled encouragingly at them in the rear view, commenting just enough to keep that chatter going.

Each morning when we stopped, Drei would disappear for half an hour or so—sometimes longer, sometimes shorter—and reappear with a few bags of camping gear. Sleeping bags, tents, a small camp stove, even non-perishable food and bottled water. It was further evidence he traveled this route often, and it was reassurance I was not his first tag-along. After we'd break camp in the evenings, he would leave for a short while again to return the goods to wherever they had been acquired.

Drei and I rarely spoke to each other. It seemed he always had questions and no way to ask them. I just couldn’t find words to express anything. When you’re numb, what is there to express?

“Why?” he asked at the close of one night as we settled camp.

I gazed at him over my shoulder, surprised at the seemingly random question. “What?”

He winced at my weak, cracked voice. Even I winced. Two weeks of disuse had left my voice scratchy and heinous. I grabbed a bottle of water and tried to clear my throat.

“Why did you change? You do not talk, rarely laugh, and seem more like a corpse than a person.” His pale eyes stared at me expectantly.

“I don’t know what you mean;” I turned away from him, searching for something I could do on the far side of our camp.

Drei walked up behind me, and I felt a hesitancy in his movements; he wanted to impulsively do something but fought against the cons of his actions. Though I prepared myself for an embrace or attack of sorts, none came. I turned to face his stoic form and hurt eyes. A haze of confusion swarmed around him, and now me; I wanted to swat it away or run, but I did neither.

“You do know,” he whispered. “Something changed; you are fragile and sad, silent, and—” His voice cracked, depriving me of the last word.

“And what?” I prompted quietly, feeling depression and ache seep past the wall of numbness. Wrapping my arms around me, I couldn’t stop myself thinking this wasn’t supposed to happen. I induced numbness to avoid feeling anything. I didn’t want to feel this melancholy, this emptiness caused by the loss of things I had come to resent. I may not have wanted them anymore, but they had been mine...

“Broken.” Drei breathed the word heavily, as if close to tears and the thought itself was unbearable for him.

I should have known I couldn’t hide it from him, but I wanted to forget it all, not relive it. Tears pressed at my eyes and breathing was considerably more difficult; my chest felt almost too tight. Drei caught me as I fell into him, an explosion of hyperventilated sobs postponing the conversation.

“Everything will be better,” he murmured into my hair, pulling me closer. His voice lulled from me all the horrors of the days before my departure and left me with a fulfilling sense of closure; my parents and the school were as far away in my mind as they physically were. The comfort I found in his arms and the luscious scent of flowers filling my nose made me feel safe. Combined, they seemed to promise nothing like that would ever happen again. Though I didn’t completely believe it, it helped.

Drei cupped a pale hand beneath my chin and lifted my shining face to his. Something in his amethyst eyes sparkled at me in a way I had never seen before. It frightened and thrilled me instantaneously.

“All better?”

My head shook. On the surface, I felt better about everything that had bothered me; deep down, I knew I was a long ways from a full recovery.

His fingers smoothed back some stray hairs from my ponytail as he smiled that comforting glow of his that made everything else seem petty. “It is a start,” he whispered, grasping some nuance in my weak smile I failed to realize I was relaying. “It is a start.”

Elemental: Chapter Four, Part 1

Chapter Four: Tear Down the Wall

I stood on the bridge where he had dragged me all those months ago, my eyes gazing down into the gentle current of the stream below. My mind was made, and he hopefully wouldn’t attempt changing that.

“What is this?” a familiar voice questioned beside me.

Drei stood, handsome as ever wearing a sweeping black coat over his usual black outfit. His eyes looked to the generic duffel bag lying near my feet. The pale gems then searched my face. “Oh, so you have decided.” There was a note of approval hidden in his tone.

“Perhaps,” I replied, focusing on the scenery ahead, trying to sound jovial.

He walked to my other side, asking, “Your question regards me, does it not?”

“Not just you;” I turned my back on the railing. “All of the vampires involved.”

An eyebrow cocked over his left eye. “Oh really?”

“Yes,” I continued, settling back on my elbows. I had decided I needed this answer for the sake of having it. My decision was made, and nothing could change that, but this answer was merely reassurance I wasn’t becoming lunch. “Why do you help elementals? What’s your motivation for helping people like me?”

He leaned forward on his elbows, lacing his fingers together before him.

Part of me felt natural talking with a man who appeared only a few years older than myself. Yet another part writhed anxiously, feeling insignificant in comparison to the number of years he must have been around and the numerous things he had consequently been witness to.

“We help because we must,” he said quietly, his gaze watching a bird soar past the moon. “We find that some vampires gain clairvoyance with their turning. This foresight tells us of a future that is better, where we can finally coexist. If we can protect the elementals.”

“But why?” I inquired, turning back around, assuming a position similar to his. “We’re weird. Abnormal. Monstrosities, if you will.” Though I had been trying to stay upbeat, I couldn’t fake how I felt about this. Not after what had happened.

“No, you are not.” His eyes caught mine and held them prisoner. “You are leaders. People who will do great things. Earth and water elementals will lead to better technology for a better environment. They will change the way we live. Fire elementals were the leaders of great revolution. They brought out the desire for change in people. They fought and led wars that led society on a path in favor of better interests, despite how destructive they may have been at times.”

“And me?” My voice sounded small, even to my ears.

“Air elementals gather people with their words. They unite masses with visions and speeches. They lead non-violent fights for the betterment of society as a whole. They are also, often times, assassinated, wanted dead, or hidden.” He released me from his spell and stared back at the moon. “As for you, your role in particular, all I may reveal is that you will do great things, but not if you are found by hunters first.”

I nodded before grabbing my duffel. “So let’s go.”

Drei faced me, his expression stony. “It will be difficult, on the way and once we arrive. You will be leaving behind this life,” he said slowly, emphasizing his statement with a sweep of his arm.

“I know,” I assured him. I forced my mind to be numb; I didn’t want his words to penetrate too deeply.

“You might never see your family again.”

“I know that. Now will you stop trying to change my mind already?” I calmly cocked my head to one side and waited.

A glow seized his features, and again I perceived how handsomely gorgeous he was. “I wanted to ensure this is what you wanted.”

“And you thought I’d prefer torture and death?” I managed a wry smirk, trying to come off as light-hearted.

“Not at all;” he smirked. His gaze flashed back to the moon. “Come now, we are losing time before sunlight.”

“That’s right. You can’t be in sunlight;” I was remembering all the folklore on vampires I had looked up when I was younger and more interested in the subject. Not that I wasn’t interested in them anymore.

“Actually, that is myth. We just avoid it because we burn easily.”

“So what’s the hurry?” If he could be in sunlight—even if it is cancerous—why couldn’t we just take our time?

“Sunlight also makes us more visible,” he replied, sweeping past me in long, elegant strides.

I shrugged and followed him off the bridge and into the city. I supposed a runaway was less suspicious than an abduction; the last thing I needed was official news coverage, anyway. I just hoped we wouldn’t walk the entire way. From the sound of it, we would be going a very long distance.

Elemental: Chapter Three, Part 5

My blue-gray eyes stared emptily back at me, reminding me of the way Mom had transformed in my mind the night before. I looked as though I hadn’t slept a wink, which might have been the truth. All I could remember, however, was the history of my parents replaying like some horrible family film, always ending with Dad leaving, never to see her again.

I didn’t want to go to school; it was the last thing I wanted to do. Everyone would be talking about yesterday, about the girl who lost it—and more. My mind thoughtfully simulated the jeering faces and deafening silence. Half of me questioned why the past couldn’t be left alone, but the other half argued I had done my fair share of digging.

Turns out, I should have stayed home.

The moment I stepped onto campus, everyone shushed. It seemed to thrill them to peek around the corner at the girl who went psycho not even 24 hours earlier. Giggles echoed everywhere, nearly as much as the stealthy tiptoes and retreating footsteps of pathetic children lacking anything better to do.

In my locker was a note from Sara, apologizing profusely between her ravings of doing nothing wrong. Half of it denied any responsibility on her part. It ended with her begging me not to kill her, which hadn’t crossed my mind before that point—not that I would seriously contemplate it.

My first three classes I kept to a back corner of the room, having noticed in homeroom how everyone seemed to avoid sitting too close. Nothing changed during those classes. I seemed to radiate an aura of “fear me” so that even teachers were contented when I didn’t offer my usual participation. I could feel the waves of relief washing from them every time a question was posed and they glimpsed my way to see I hadn’t volunteered to answer.

Lunch was when the message became undeniably clear this was not just a one-day phase. Our school newspaper—the same one that managed to inform the student body of student news after it had ceased to be news—had published and released an edition focusing solely on moi.

I easily glimpsed the cover page, sporting an artistic version of myself floating, glowing abnormally, and resembling an earlier sketch of a popular weather controlling mutant. Everyone seemed to be reading the fresh copy, and an occasional finger found its way to my current position. The raucous of the room had hushed into a murmur of gossip and rumors from the moment I entered. If I neared a table of whispering girls, or chuckling guys, the energy and sound was vacuumed away until I passed; only then did it once again explode and infect the table’s occupants.

I had just decided on not eating in the lunchroom when someone stood and shouted, “Look! There’s the freak!”

Bursts of laughter and agreement echoed through the room and swam in my ears. Feigning deafness, I calmly exited the cafeteria through the rear door and only then allowed myself to sprint quicker than humanly possible to my car.

My eyes fell upon my poor vehicle, cluttered in teasing graffiti, sticky notes, toilet paper, and eggs. I dropped my backpack and stared horrified at my once beautiful, blue hybrid. Tears threatened to fall as I fled from the representation of my destroyed life. En route, I promised myself never to lose control again—regardless of what it required. My livelihood was ruined because of it, as well as everything inside of me.

At home, I found the house devoid of life. I was alone, as I was starting to realize I always had been. I’d been on my own since my mom left me to this supposedly better life; since my father traveled endlessly trying to escape her memory; since Kenzy tried to control everything I was when she couldn’t even begin to imagine. That realization shattered my world.

Elemental: Chapter Three, Part 4

Late that night, I was sprawled across the salmon satin coverlet atop my bed, my ear buds in place, but no sound emitting from them. My gaze bore unseeingly into the dark abyss overhead. The flicker of memory gazed back at me. It was everything my father had said and everything he had omitted.

He followed her up the stairs, both of them beaming and anxious. My mom, as drawn from his memories, was tall, tan, slender, muscular, and fragile. Her long, dark blond hair needed a brush, but still looked radiant in its wild nature. Her eyes were faded cerulean, hidden beneath long lashes and complimented by full pink lips. As they climbed, she kept looking over her shoulder, but her eyes scanned for something beyond my father. There was tension in her smile, her lips appearing as though they were pulled too tightly; she tried to emulate the carefree nature he had remembered, but it felt like a cheap imitation. He didn’t care, though; she was here again, and they were together.

When they reached the hotel room, she shushed him and quietly led. There was an exchange of money in favor of a stout lady in a pressed maid’s uniform, and then hustling into a dark corner of the small room.

Mom stood back as my father looked at me, at the child half-asleep between pillows and blankets. His expression was joyous at first sight, but quickly darkened. His cool composure failed him in the moments before Mom said, “She just turned four months old last week.”

As he swiveled around to look properly at her, she let her defenses fall, morphing into another person. Her jovial youth evaporated to reveal a worn woman, sleepless for worry. The muscles that had been tense and strong fell, leaving her deflated. Even the untamed halo of hair seemed to exhaust.

“Her name is Abriel,” she said weakly, a slight smile lifting her face. My father hugged her intensely, truly happy. “I can’t take care of her, Charlie,” Mom whispered. “Please, take her…you can give her a better life.”

The memory dissolved before me. I knew the rest, but none with such vivid imagery.

Mom went missing again a short while afterwards. When two years had passed without a trace, they proclaimed her dead. According to Drei, she had been taken by bounty hunters. Dad didn’t know it, but somehow I knew it to be the truth. Just as I was the only one who knew the only reason she came back was for me. To spare me a worse fate.

Elemental: Chapter Three, Part 3

I was losing him to some memory I knew nothing of. To only know so much and begin to lose him was shredding my heart. Knowing who my mom was wasn’t enough anymore. I had to know what had happened. I had to know who she had been to him.

“What happened?” I prompted, my voice pleading and anxious.

His watery eyes found mine, and seemed to find an anchor to this reality along with it. “Sorry,” he muttered, dragging his hand across his eyes.

“What happened?” I repeated when he didn’t begin to answer.

He sighed heavily. “We started seeing each other; at first casually, but then we were together more and more frequently. It was no longer a friendship, but more of a partnership. She had the uncanny ability to know just what to say to make everything better or worse. And her bright, flighty personality drew me closer in until I seriously considered divorcing Kenzy.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Shush, you’re getting ahead of the story,” he reprimanded. I waited impatiently as he recollected his thoughts of the past. “She went missing,” he started again. “No one knew where she had gone, or why she had left. When she reappeared nearly a year later, Kenzy and I had come to an—um, an agreement in our marriage.”

“What?” I screeched. As the story of my mother and father unfolded, despite being abridged, I found I had curled up on the chair as I used to when he would tell me stories of romance and chivalry. “What arrangement?”

“Calm down,” he said, motioning for me to sit with him again. This time I obeyed, hoping that, if anything like my mom, I would better understand what came next. “Kenzy had found out about my relationship with Ty. After months of arguing about divorce, equality, and children, we agreed to stay married and be faithful to each other. Supposing the arrangement held, we would consider adopting a child. A huge concession for Kenzy considering her tenacious feelings toward adoption.

“But then Ty returned, and I couldn’t see myself ever keeping to something so inane. I loved her; how could I give her up?”

“You couldn’t,” I answered gently. “So you saw her again.”

“The first time we met privately, after her return,” he continued, “we went to a hotel. It was where she was staying. I had thought it was temporary, but couldn’t imagine anyone denying her a place to stay. Everyone loved her.”

“Dad, what was important about that time?” I sensed that if I didn’t pry him from his thoughts, I would never hear the end of the story. It no longer was just something to know; it was a need. I needed these answers, this story, some kind of control in my life, something true—really true—to believe.

His pearly whites gleamed at me. “That was the first time I met you. You were so strong and determined for an infant. All the world was a wall to be torn down and rebuilt for you.” He squeezed my shoulders in a one-armed hug. “After the initial shock, I was hurt. My thoughts weren’t possessive…they were dismissive. I was ready to storm out before she told me you were little more than four months old. You were mine…” his voice trailed, seeming to leave the past behind. The hazel eyes found the current me and settled on the image. “You're mine.”

A silence swallowed us as he reasoned out fact from the imaginary accumulated over the years. He laughed to himself at some point, saying, “I had convinced myself it was all a lie. That she really was waiting somewhere. Ty couldn’t be dead. She was too special to die so young.”

Elemental: Chapter Three, Part 2

“What’s the matter, Abbie?” my father inquired, peeking his head out from his study as I stomped down the hall.

My steps ceased slightly past his door. I turned, surprised he was here. Last I knew he had been in New York closing a merger over deadly concoctions and Broadway Theatre. New York had always been his favorite place for business.

“Hi…Dad,” I said somewhat dumbly. “When did you get back?”

“This morning. Now, what’s wrong? Why are you fighting with your mother?”

I crossed my arms, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. “She won’t be honest with me,” I finally answered after no lie would come to mind.

He nodded, causing his shaggy cinnamon hair to jostle. “Come in.”

His study was cozy compared to most of our house. I remembered jumping on the leather couches as a child and settling beside him to listen to poetry or prose of another time that he so expertly read. The numerous bookcases shelving volumes from around the globe had always fascinated me. They held the keys to another realm, a new world, a forgotten time. Now they stood stoic and floundering in a feeble existence, half-forgotten. I looked away from them, reminded far too much of my own predicament.

He patted the soft leather beside him, but I sat across from him; I didn’t want his comforting nature to sway my resolve.

A small, depressed smile invaded his features as he sighed; “I always knew this day would come.”

I sat upright, hoping if I came off more adult-like, he would treat me as such. I fought to keep my expression apathetic. The familiar setting of comfort, laughter, and safety, however, combated my determination.

“Am I adopted?” I questioned, preparing for the worst, though I hadn’t figured out what that would be.

He massaged his temples with a pale hand as he pondered an answer. “Yes, and no,” he finally replied.

My mind froze, unsure whether to be relieved or shattered. I was somewhat confused, and yet completely understood what the remark was supposed to mean; but meaning couldn’t seem to dawn when I was directly involved.

His hazel eyes seemed to understand my thoughts and elaborated: “You are mine, my child. Kenzy is not your mother, however. She adopted you.”

Questions screamed in my mind, blocking out all other noise, but the only word my lips found purchase on was “how.”

“Well,” he said, hunkering down as if he were about to tell me the school had been blown to smithereens, “Kenzy couldn’t have children. We found out she was sterile a couple years into our marriage. At that point, everything was falling apart, and we thought a child would make things better, but a child was inconceivable.”

“What about adoption? Or having another woman carry the child to term?”

“Kenzy didn’t want a child from another woman, afraid she would change her mind after the child’s birth. And she didn’t want a child that had nothing in common with either of us. She was very stubborn on that.”

“So how did you have me?”

He nodded knowingly, as if anticipating that question already and having just found the words in which to explain it. “Some time after our arguments worsened, I met your mom. Tyrene. But everyone called her Ty.” My father smiled fondly at the memory; there was a light in his eyes that made him seem younger, more vivacious. “You look a lot like her, you know. It’s because of you I can stand to miss her.”

Elemental: Chapter Three, Part 1

Chapter Three: Remember the Past

No matter how I approached the memory, I couldn’t understand what had happened. Why had I lost control? What had squeezed me into the corners of my own body and then left? What may have been scarier than either of those was I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know how to prevent it from happening again.

I decided, since everything was unraveling anyway, to seek the truth of my parentage. What more could've made the day worse? The truth might have been an improvement.

My mother was mixing cake batter in the kitchen when I found her. What exactly she was doing mixing a cake, I had no idea. She never cooked. Ever. She had never been a Martha Stewart type of homemaker. As far back as I could remember, she had never really been a homemaker of any kind. I mean, she was home, she sewed on the occasion, and she didn’t really have a job; she organized parties and such, but she didn’t go around cleaning the house or ordering new draperies every month. I couldn’t even remember a time when she had been in the kitchen to cook; I always seemed to remember her criticizing the cooking, though.

“Hello, darling,” she greeted, smiling brightly at me, her thin arm still flailing painfully as she tried to whisk the batter. Her dark hair was piled messily atop her head in an attempt to keep it out of her way.

“Mother, what are you doing?” I questioned, sitting on one of the cherry stools at the breakfast bar.

“Baking,” she said. Then she smiled up at me, adding, “I felt inspired.”

“Tell me the truth,” I requested calmly, not wanting to yell or lose my temper, but needing her to understand this was necessary.

Her lime eyes gazed at me blankly. The fact she still wanted to play this asinine game infuriated me; did she think after 17 years I didn’t know what was abnormal for her?

“Stop lying to me. It’s not protecting me from anything.” My gaze was stony and unmoving, and I sensed a fear of it. “It’s only hurting me.”

She stared at me a moment, her face stoic but her whisking hand shaking slightly at it stood poised over the batter. “Okay,” she conceded, looking down. “I’m baking because I’m unnerved.”

“At what?” I prompted, softening a touch. Maybe she had noticed I was different and wanted to explain. Wanted to tell me she was like me and regretted not explaining things sooner.

“Your friends hardly come over anymore.” No. She had to be kidding me. “You’re always off to one thing or another all day long.” I should have known it would be something like this. She didn’t care about telling me the truth; she had worked on keeping it secret. “You’re asking questions about ridiculous things. And today—today I get a call from the school saying you were fighting with Sara. Since when are you fighting with Sara?” she demanded, her voice steadily growing more hysterical. I couldn’t stand it anymore; I couldn’t stand her. “You two were always so close…I-I just don’t know who you are anymore—and I want to know—”

I stood up abruptly, the stool scraping loudly against the tiled floor. The kitchen, in all its modern grandeur, felt tiny and suffocating. As though the longer I stayed there, the more the walls pushed us together until I became just like her. Until I made sense to her. I couldn’t begin to understand how her whole baking deal was her way of dealing with my inadequacies. Rather than talking with me, like a normal person, she was going to lie and pretend I wouldn’t know any better. Because she’s just so perfect.

“I want my daughter back,” she cried to me, not one real emotion oozing from her voice.

“You don’t deserve her,” I shouted as I stormed from the kitchen.