NEWBORN: Book One of the Newborn Trilogy (32 page)

What on earth is he talking about?

I look at it. Oh… right. It’s splattered with
blood. Geez, how did I not feel that? It
looks
like it hurt.
Yet it didn’t. I can’t begin to explain it. “Okay, I will,” I tell
him. I’m trying not to appear overly surprised.

* * *

Gabriel and I take a long shower together.
I’ve never taken a shower with anyone. I enjoy myself cleaning him
and I hope he enjoys cleaning me. Though judging from the
expression on his face while I lather soap onto a particular part
of his body, he’s enjoying it. Like, a lot.

Clean and dry, we go back to my room. Geez,
it’s nice not having to worry about Kiri. I can dress without eyes
on me. Well, this isn’t the best moment to illustrate that. Pulling
on clean jeans and a fresh bra, I feel cold. The warmth of the
sheets and shower gone, I realize how cold it is in my room.

Gabriel is watching me. “Here, put this
on.”

My turtleneck. “I’m not sure that will be
warm enough,” I say, searching around for my jacket. It’s on my
bed. Looking back, I see Gabriel’s eyebrows nearly disappear into
his hair. “Oh, right!” I gasp.

You’re precious
, my alter ego tells
me.

Go fuck yourself
, I tell her.

Pulling the turtleneck over my head, I
instantly feel comfortable. My body is the perfect temperature.
“Does the charm last forever?”

“Not exactly,” he answers. “A form of it will
last for a long period, but it will lose strength over time. It
will take a few years before it’s just a turtleneck. Not a magical
turtleneck. Anyway, how about food?”

I’m marveling at my newfound comfort. “I’m
not hungry.”

“Of course you’re not!” Sitting on my bed, he
pulls his T-shirt and jeans back on before covering them with
tangerine robes. “I’m going back to the forest. Food first. Sure
you don’t want to come with?”

Stretching beneath my bed, my fingers grasp
his wand and I retrieve it into daylight. Laying it on my palm, I
offer it to him like a great and noble sword. He eyes me
deprecatingly before taking it.

“For your ‘reconnaissance work’,” I explain,
fleshing my tone with doubt, “go forth and reconnaissance!”

Gabriel scowls, swiping his blond hair to the
side of his forehead. “I’m trying to find the Newborn,” he
reiterates. “It’s coming terribly slowly. When I discover more, I
will take you to the coven’s lair.”

“You promise?”

Pocketing his wand in his tangerine robes, he
takes my hands in his and lowers them. Then he kisses me. A
fantastical, lingering kiss that drenches my consciousness in the
majesty of his promise.

* * *

I’m walking back to my dorm after an
exhaustibly boring session of English 103: English Composition,
when something unimaginable happens. Mom calls me. I stare at the
name stenciled across the screen.

I can’t believe it.

Mom hasn’t called in over two months.
Actually, she hasn’t contacted me since dropping me off. So much
for her tears. But now she is. Calling out of the blue. I can’t get
a grip on it. Trying to shrug off my already mounting dissonance, I
answer my phone. “Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound casual.

“Nora!” Surprise is the emotion I detect in
her voice. Did she think I wouldn’t answer? She’s my mom. “I’m so
glad to have gotten hold of you! I was worried you wouldn’t
answer!” So much for that.

Halfway across Red Square, I find the nearest
wrought-iron bench and sit. “I’m here, Mom. What do you want?”

“You, of course!” she exclaims. “Sweetie, I’m
almost to Evergreen. I thought we could do lunch. Are you free,
honey?”

I gaze around wildly as though searching for
eavesdroppers. I have half a mind to lie and say I have class. I
can’t deny it. I’m upset about how she treated Dad. About how she
found a boyfriend and moved in with him out of spite. But I can’t
lie to my mother. So I say, “No, Mom. I’m free.”

“Perfect!” Mom whoops. “I’ll be driving up to
Red Square soon. Do you know where that is, sweetie?”

I dearly want to twist my phone in my hands
until it breaks. I fight off this impulse. “Yes – I’m there
now.”

A gasp of excitement. “Excellent! Perfect!
I’ll be there in five minutes. Bye.” She hangs up on me.

Astonished, I stare at my phone.
Disbelieving. First she ignores me for two months. Then she calls
out of the blue and wants to hang out. No warning. Now she hangs up
on me. Our connection has been refurbished for a whole minute and
already I want to scream. Instead, I take several deep breaths.

Twenty minutes later I see her Toyota Matrix
pull around the horseshoe shaped road at the base of Red Square.
Getting up, my weightless backpack in tow over my shoulder, I walk
to her car.

It’s a windy November day. I’m glad to be
wearing my charmed turtleneck. I feel fine. Well, temperature wise,
at least.

“Darling!” Mom coos through the open window.
“Get in, get in!”

I’m relieved to find her alone. Waving half
heartedly, I toss my backpack in the backseat before climbing in
beside her. Hugging me tightly, she kisses me on the cheek. She’s
drenched in Chanel’s
Chance
. Mom – the only person in the
universe who wears more perfume than I do. Lord help us.

“You must be cold!” Mom says loudly, her grey
eyes falling over my turtleneck. “Where’s your jacket?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” I say, waving her away. What
am I supposed to say? That my wizard boyfriend charmed my clothes?
Get fucking real. “Really, it’s fine! I’m comfortable,” I reiterate
hotly.

“Well, if you say so,” she says.

“I do.”

She glances at me with curiosity before
letting it go for now. “So!” she exclaims, clapping her hands
together. “You know the area better than me! Where should we have
lunch? You can show me the haunts!”

She’s having too much fun. I’m about to tell
her I don’t eat and have no idea where to go when an idea strikes
me. Sweet! “I know a place. Follow my directions and I’ll get us
there.”

“Sounds like a plan!” She’s effortlessly
enthusiastic. “I’m so glad we could do this, Nora Saynt! So glad
you didn’t have class or something. How are your classes, by the
way?” Mom asks in passing.

I gesture for her to drive around the
horseshoe and onto the main road. “They’re fine,” I say carelessly.
“Three English. One History. Looking like A’s and B’s. Probably
more B’s than A’s.”

Mom turns right, following my direction.
“Three English! So many English classes, my little saint! Why so
many?”

I stare in utter disbelief. A new low. “I’m
an
English
major, Mom,” I tell her, deadpan. “Remember? I
want to be a writer.”

She frowns. “Oh,” she says, “That’s
right!”

* * *

Mom looks up at the hanging sign. “The
Mousetrap?”

“We’re here!” I exclaim excitedly. I know
she’ll hate it. I can’t wait! “Come on!” I lead her inside. It’s
surprisingly full for mid afternoon on a Monday. Maybe that’s why
it’s surprisingly full.

Mom looks around in disgust. “A dive bar?
Seriously, Nora Saynt?”

“It’s great!” I remark, “They don’t check
I.D.”

Without waiting for her approval, I dart to a
table at the back and sit down. She has to follow me back. No
complaints, no grievances. If she’s not going to try to be a
mother, I’m not going to try to be a daughter. She comes slowly, as
she’s busy feeling superior to her surroundings. It’s a full time
job.

I jump up as soon as she sits. “Want a
drink?”

“A Coke will be fine,” she answers. I start
for the bar. “Nora!” I spin around. “
Diet
Coke, please.”
Sighing, I turn back. “Oh, Nora Saynt!” Her voice is now singsong.
Fighting the urge to ignore her, I turn again. “Get a lunch menu,
honey.”

A couple minutes later I’m back from the bar.
A
Coke
for her. A gin and tonic for me. Mom eyes my
beverage, her brow furrowing at the fizzing liquid and the toy
umbrella. “Sweetie, is that alcohol?”

“Yes,” I reply. Why shouldn’t I drink? You’re
here, after all. Geez, there’s so many things I want to say to her.
I didn’t realize until she showed up how mad I am at her. For what
she’s done to Dad. For what she’s done to me.
And
for what
she hasn’t done for me. Like
called
, for instance.

“I don’t think you should be drinking in the
afternoon during the week,” Mom tells me.

So now she’s a parent? Who’d have thought?
“It’s not a problem,” I say, discarding her opinion at once. “I’m
taking the night off from schoolwork.” I’m already realizing I’ll
be too mad later to study. Geez, I
am
furious. I need to
distract myself from my anger. “Anyway, how are your students?”

“Wonderful!” Mom exclaims, elated by her
favorite subject. “Fantastic, Nora Saynt! I’ve got this one girl in
my class – oh – I love her! She’s reading Tolstoy. Tolstoy, Nora!
She’s ten years old. Imagine it!”

“I really can’t,” I respond. Small talk isn’t
working.

Mom asks, “Where’s the menu?”

I try hard not to smile. “There isn’t one,” I
tell her. “The Mousetrap is a dive bar. If you want to go ask the
bartender they may have chips. Maybe pretzels – I’m not sure.
You’ll have to ask them.”

Mom’s expression is impermeable. “I’m hungry,
Nora Saynt. I drove all the way from Baring to see you. All I had
this morning was coffee and yogurt.”

The word ‘yogurt’ stirs my stomach
unpleasantly. Honestly, it was more out of self interest than spite
I took us here. True, I wanted to make Mom uncomfortable. I also
knew I wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. Knowing her, she’d
force me to eat. Right in front of her. No excuses.

Mom says, “Why don’t we finish our drinks and
go somewhere with food.”

“No,” I tell her. “I don’t want to.”

“Nora!” Mom exclaims. “What’s with you today?
I make a special trip to see you and you won’t let me eat. You’re
being rude!”

Relax, Nora
, my alter ego warns me.
Hang out for the afternoon and say goodbye.

I can’t
, I respond.
I just
can’t!

Fury is rising inside me. “Rude! I’ll tell
you what’s rude, Mom! Rude is showing up out of the blue and
demanding attention! I
don’t
believe you came out here to
visit me! If you had, at least you’d have called first!” I’m
breathing hard. Geez, it feels good to storm at her at last. I’m
inhaling my alcohol.

Mom blinks and retreats. “Fine, then,” she
says coolly. “I may have been visiting Caroline in Olympia. You
know, my friend from Ohio State. I don’t see how that’s any
different. I’m still hungry, Nora Saynt.”

I stamp my drink to the table, sloshing some
over. “It matters,” I rasp at her, “because you
didn’t
come
all this way to see me! You came to see Carol – who you don’t even
like! I’m the afterthought. You don’t get it, do you? It’s all
about
you
, Mom! It always has been. You’re so selfish!”

Mom is startled. “I’m not the selfish one,
Nora Saynt,” she tells me. “What about your father? Spending money
all the time! He didn’t need that motorcycle! He didn’t need a
new
Silverado! That year
I
made more than he did
because contracts were slow and I was salaried. What did he do? He
went and bought a new car without asking me!”

“Forget Dad,” I say furiously, “Dad’s not
here!
You’re
the one who hasn’t contacted me since August.
You’re
the one who’s completely ignored me! Not Dad. He’s
called every single week without fail!”

“Yes, yes!” Mom says happily. I stare in
shock. “You said it, Nora Saynt! Eugene’s
not
here! But I
am. I
am
here, Nora! I came to see you! Has he shown his
face since we moved you in?”

Fucking shitballs!
She has me
here.

“Well, no,” I begin, “but –”

“Sounds like inferior parenting to me!”

Geez, how is she getting away with this? I
can’t let her.

“I know what you’ve done!” I’m speaking over
her now. “I know what your game is, Mom! I can’t believe you did
it! It’s terrible! Finding a boyfriend because Dad had one date.
One
fucking date, Mom! Now you’re moved in with him. It’s
insanity. I’d never have believed it of you!”

There she has it. The big guns. I called her
on her shit.

Mom bursts out laughing.
Holy fuck
…
This can’t be happening. I’ve gone insane. Or she has. None of it
makes sense. I attacked her with everything I have. I want
apologies. Tears. Not roars of laughter – uncharacteristic of my
mother, of the woman I knew before divorce struck our home.

Her laughs become giggles. She slaps a hand
to her face and pokes an eye through her fingers, looking at me.
She manages, “I – I can’t believe…” But she collapses into another
fit. I wait for this to subside. “I… I can’t believe
you
believed all that, Nora Saynt!” she hiccups. “Oh my word!”

Oh no she didn’t. Oh yes she did…

“What?” Disbelieving.

She hides her face. “I made it all up!”

Pushing my chair back, I stand. Gulping down
the rest of my gin and tonic, I head for the bar. I’m getting
another. I need it. Like,
really
need it. When I return Mom
has composed herself at last.

“You’re a lunatic,” I tell her, sitting back
down.

Mom hiccups and quickly covers her mouth. “I
know it was wrong,” she admits, “but I don’t know, Nora. It felt so
good! The times I brought it up I could tell your father was
jealous. It felt good.”

Memory strikes. “The guy in the car? Who was
he?”

“Eugene told you everything, didn’t he?” Mom
asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Michael McClendon from work.
He teaches biology at Ridgeley. I was so worried your father would
recognize him from the annual picnic I almost didn’t go through
with it. I don’t think he noticed anything.”