Nocturnal (16 page)

I ran my hands through my hair. I needed to wash it again. I scrubbed my fingers in it, hoping the rain would be enough to clean it.

Before I went to meet her, I changed my clothes. My hair had dried somewhat, and it smelled better than it used to. I pushed it back from my face. I'd seen her appraising me. My appearance. Taking note of everything. She kept trying to squint so she can see my eyes. They are a novelty to her.

She tugged and pulled and got the words out of me. I answered her questions. Not because I wanted to, but I had to. Once I started, it was easy, telling her. I watched her face. But I didn't tell her everything.

I would give anything to go back and have died on that ship. Or perhaps gotten into a lifeboat. I would have been with my mother. I would have married that girl from down the street. What was her name? Evelyn Peters. I would have worked at the bank, just like my father. We would have had a house down the street from my mother and Evelyn would cook pot roast and kiss me when I got home at night, holding a baby on her hip and another one by the hand. 

I never dreamed about those things when I was alive. I dreamed about being with Evelyn, but not in that way. All I wanted was to get her alone and peel the clothes from her body and touch her in places I'd heard about but hadn't seen. 

I'd given Ava power. Shown her parts of my fragile underbelly. Humans put so much emphasis on physical power, but words are knives. They carve and maim and kill. She could kill me more easily than I could her. Of course she had no idea of the power she holds. 

She told me to message her on that wretched device. I still had the phone I took from her that first night. I hadn't tried to use it yet. It made me think of Viktor and how he would know exactly how to use it and how I don't know where he is. 

After she left I pulled out the phone and pushed some of the buttons. It was dirty from being in my pocket. I don't know why I kept it other than to remind me of her. 

The buttons were tiny, but I clicked a few of them to find how to navigate the thing. It didn't take very long. I hit the call button under one of the numbers. It rang once and a voice picked up.

“Do you know what time it is?” a sharp female voice said. I clicked the phone shut without answering. 

Back to Nature

“To the left, to the left!” Despite her instructions, the tent doesn't go to the left and instead flips over, bouncing like a beachball. My mother's laughter cracks through the tension like a pick through ice.

“Damn. Are you sure we can't go to a hotel?” Dad and I are sweating and, on my part, cursing, trying to get the tent up. It hasn't been used in so long it has this moldy smell that makes me think of old bread. It's going to take hours for it to air out enough for us to go inside. He and I haven't talked much since the night when he wouldn't let me see her. He's tried, but I've shut him down. The silent treatment will end, since we're stuck here all weekend. I'm trying to be a good sport, but neither of us is having a good time.

My mother is in her element. I'd forgotten how much she loves this. And not just the nature stuff. She loves the no electricity, the sleeping on the hard ground, the cold, the rudimentary amenities. The sound of crickets and the smell of smoke that gets in your hair. The dirt and the work it takes to make a meal. All of it. 

When I'd gotten back from my night with Peter, I heard her voice the second I closed the door. It was like a knife to my already bruised heart. I didn't even look at Dad as I went back to her room to see her. I'm sure I would have punched him if I looked at him, so I pretended he wasn't there instead.

She was fine, a little miffed at us for making such a big deal out of things. But she smiled and asked me where I'd been. I lied and told her I'd been working, even though we both knew I had the night off. She stared at me for a second and then closed her eyes, saying she was glad I was home. I squeezed her hand and waited with her until she fell asleep. I'd barely talked to Dad since then. He'd wanted to cancel the trip, but she'd stomped her foot and said we were going. So here we are.

“Okay, let's try this again.” Dad's wearing this old flannel shirt he unearthed from the back of his closet. I don't think it's seen the light of day since the last time we went camping. It's odd seeing him in anything but a button up shirt and dress pants. Even on the weekends, he wears khakis. Never jeans. He's sweating and he's got dirt on his hands. Not that my dad isn't a guy's guy. But he isn't the one who gets his hands into the dirt and digs and does the messy projects. That's all her.

We finally get the tent up. I check my cell phone for the millionth time. Tex was treating me like I'd gone off to prison, instead of into the woods. And it isn't even really the woods. The highway is five seconds away, along with a really nice hotel and lots of restaurants. And a ton of quaint inns. We're not roughing it too much. More than enough for me, though.

After a lot more cursing, we finally get the tent up and Mom starts making it all homey, unpacking sleeping bags and hanging a wind chime at the entrance. Dad keeps banging his head on it while he unloads things from the car. I almost laugh and then remember that I'm still pissed at him. 

Dinner is hot dogs, in my case, the veggie kind, corn and sweet potatoes roasted on the fire. I eat twice as much as I normally would. There's something about eating something next to a fire that makes it taste like nothing else. We're not talking much, but that's okay.

“I missed this,” she says, looking into the fire. It moves across her face, casting shadows. “I didn't know how much I missed it. Just being out here with nothing else. No doctors or treatments.” She sighs and rubs her arms. “You know?”

“Yeah.” Dad gets up and puts some more wood on the fire.

“I want to keep this.” She leans over her chair and puts her arms around me. “Right here.” She says it in my ear and it tickles. I laugh and she giggles with me. “Remember that time the tent flooded?”

I do and we laugh about the old times. Even Dad joins in, talking about the time the raccoon got into our food and ate everything except Pop Tarts, so we ate those for two days. The fire pops and we have to keep changng our seats to avoid the smoke getting in our eyes.

Tex texts me about three thousand times to make sure I haven't been eaten by bears, so I finally have to turn my phone off. Even if it means I won't get a text from Peter. Not that I'm thinking about him.

I'm so exhausted from the tent odyssey that I go to bed right after supper. My parents stay by the fire, drinking coffee and talking softly as the fire dies into coals. 

My sleeping bag is lumpy and musty, but I fall asleep so fast I barely get a chance to put my mp3 player on shuffle.

I wake, however, in the middle of the night. One of my earbuds is still in, and the music is really loud. I don't know how I slept through it. Also, my dad is snoring so much, I realize why I proactively had the music so loud. My back cracks as I move, and I wish for my memory foam mattress from home.

I struggle out of the sleeping bag cocoon and unzip the tent. I hope it doesn't wake Mom, but she's still in her own sleeping bag, her face peaceful.

The fire has burned itself down to coals, but I go and sit by their glow, rubbing my hands together. The night still has a bit of bite to it. 

I've got five missed texts from Tex. Nothing from Peter. I want to send him a message, but I don't know what to say. I feel like we can't go back to normal conversation after the whole I'm-an-angel-vampire reveal. 

I watch the smoke curling into the stars. It's so quiet. 

For some reason it makes me think of Peter. Thinking about Peter is nice. Much nicer than thinking about my mother and how many times like this we have left. Part of me wants to wake her up, just so I can whisper ghost stories with her and watch her face and snuggle with herI should have brought a camera. 

My phone buzzes. It's Peter. My heart does a little leap. I can't stop thinking about how I've shared one of my biggest secrets with him. Still, he shared a bigger one with me, so we're even.

How are you?
I guess he does know how to text. Which is weird, because I can't picture someone like him with a phone. 

Fine. How r u?
I type back.

Watching the stars.

Me 2. Don't you ever sleep?

I have no need of it.
His text messages are just like his speech. Simple and to the point.

Oh. Right. 

Why are you awake?

Couldn't sleep.

Why?

Lots of things.
I kind of hate doing this via text. It means I have to type everything out.

Seconds later, the phone rings.

“Hey.”

“Hello. I couldn't stand typing those keys anymore. It is really a cumbersome form of communication.” The way he says it makes me laugh.

“Yeah, I know. It feels impersonal, you know?” I put my feet up on the rocks surrounding the fire, hoping I don't burn my slippers.

“I do.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Reading.”

“What you reading?” I feel like I have to interview him to get him to talk. Like I should be recording all his answers on a legal pad in shorthand.

“Nothing.” There's silence while we listen to me breathe.

“I can't stop thinking about it. How I'm going to lose her.” It's just as easy to tell him on the phone, even when I'm not in the cemetery. Maybe it's the night. Maybe it's Peter.

“Everything is not lost.” I swallow a smile.

“That sounds like something she would say.”

“What else would she say?”

“It's always darkest before the dawn. That's her favorite. She has it painted on her bedroom wall.” Moths flutter around me, and I swat at them. 

“What are you thinking?”

“That I don't understand how you can speak to me the way you do,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“You tell me things I feel that you do not tell anyone else.” I hate how he guesses things about me so easily. 

“I know. For some reason it's so easy to tell you things.” I also hate how I blurt out whatever I'm thinking when I'm talking to him. 

“Because I'm not human.” Like I needed a reminder. I couldn't freaking forget. 

“It doesn't feel that way.” Yup, my slippers are getting a little melty. The rest of me is freezing, of course.

“But I am not.”

“I know.” Talking to him on the phone makes me even more aware that he doesn't breathe. I don't like being reminded of things like that. 

My head snaps up as something rustles in the leaves, distracting me. Stupid squirrels. Tense, I glance back to the tent, but Dad's snore is going strong.

“I should go to bed.”

“I would not wish to disturb your sleep.” Only he could put it that way.

“Goodnight, Ava.” I breathe for a second before I say goodbye. Trying to come up with something better. I can't.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

***

I sleep late the next morning. Both my parents are up and making pancakes before I roll my way out of the tent. 

“Ugh.” I put my hand up to shield my sensitive eyes. I feel like they've been scraped by a grape peeler. The fire's already going and the scent of fresh coffee tickles my nose. 

“Good morning sunshine.” My mother looks amazing. Fresh as a daisy, wearing her everyday wig. My own hair is already greasy, and I'm regretting not taking off my mascara. I wipe my hands over my eyes and they come away with black smears. 

“Want some pancakes?” She looks up from the frying pan balanced on a metal rack over the fire. How she doesn't burn them, I don't know, but they always come out good. Mom magic.

“After I brush my teeth.” I walk down to the bathroom, which is in a big cement building a short way from our site. There are even hot showers, but they cost you a quarter for five minutes. I know I'm going to get desperate in a few hours and have a roll of quarters just in case. 

A couple of people smile at me on their way to the sinks to wash their morning dishes. I smile back, trying to be friendly. I scrub my face with cold water, trying to wake up. My eyes have taken the train to puffy town, but there's nothing I can do about that. Stumbling back to our site, I nearly get attacked by someone's cockapoo. There's a plate of golden pancakes waiting for me. My stomach snarls in response.

“So we've got a big day planned. We're thinking of taking this hike, since we've never done it before.” She points to the map, tracing the path we'll take with a marker. It looks twisty and windy and probably difficult.

“Sounds great.” I say around a bite of pancakes. I have to open my mouth and suck in air so I don't burn my tongue.

After piles of pancakes and a quick wash up, Mom is itching for us to get going. Even though Dad clearly slept, due to the snoring, he looks like he got less than I did. I slather my skin with sunblock and bug dope, ignoring him as he packs up the water and gorp and maps. By the time we're ready, I'm so slippery if someone tried to grab me, I'd slide right away. 

I'm wearing hand-me-down hiking boots from my mother, since our feet are the same size. She's wearing a newish pair that Dad bought her a few months ago that she's been breaking in ever since. Dad's are so old they're falling apart, so he's taped them up so they'll stay on his feet. We're quite the ragtag bunch of outdoorsmen.

“So Ava-Claire, your father and I were talking and wondered if you'd like to take a few weeks off from school. It's almost the end of the year and I could help you study for your exams at home. What do you think?” The sun comes through the leaves, lighting up her face in patches that move with the wind. Her skin is pale, but she doesn't look as worn out as she should. It's like these woods and this air revive her. Breathing life into a body that's been ravaged by something unnatural. I shift my bag on my shoulders, trying to get the straps to sit just right.