Thicker Than Water (6 page)

Hecate readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Sometimes it's good to get dressed up, go to the club, not think about hospitals or parents or work or anything. Just get lost in the music. The dancing. If you're into dancing.”

Kia thought back to the previous night, the Wiccan circle and how she felt while she was spinning and twirling. “If I have a choice between thinking and dancing,” Kia said, “I'll pick dancing every time.”

“You going back in?” Hecate asked. “I've got to say bye to Gramps and then take off.”

“Oh, right.” Kia looked up at the building. She had vowed to spend at least four hours here today; she'd barely made it through two. “I'm going to check out the gift shop first.” They went around to the main entrance.

“So maybe I'll see you around,” Hecate said before heading off to the elevators.

Kia scoured the gift shop for something to read to her mom. The romance novels and thrillers weren't going to interest her. Kia finally settled on a book on politics that came down hard on all of her mom's list of “usual suspects.” Her mother enjoyed political rants, so Kia thought it would be a good distraction, and it looked pretty funny, too.

She felt less apprehensive as she walked out of the elevator on her mom's floor. It helped that she had a game plan—this book would take a while to read.

She came around the curtain and stopped when she saw her mom's closed eyes and slow, deep breaths. She was asleep.

Did it count as a visit if her mother spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping?

A chunky nurse came in to check her mom's readings. She must have jostled something because Kia's mom startled awake. Her eyes looked misty and out of focus.

“Your daughter's here,” the nurse said in a clipped Asian accent.

Her mother looked confused and then slowly turned her head toward Kia, who was still standing at the foot of the bed.

“Who's there?” Kia's mom asked. Her voice sounded hollow and echoey. “I can see you.”

“Mom?” Kia said.

“Mom?” Kia's mother repeated. She shut her eyes and swallowed. “Swimming.”

“What?” Kia asked, her throat tight.

“I feel as if I'm swimming.” She opened her eyes. They were a little more focused now. “Hello, honey ...” Her voice trailed off.

The nurse finished what she was doing and patted Kia's mom on the shoulder. “You rest now.”

As she passed Kia, the nurse said, “She's just had a sedative for pain. She'll be in and out for several hours.”

“Oh.”

“Honey,” Kia's mom said.

Kia took a step closer to the bed. She wondered what kind of pain the medication was for. Where did it hurt? Should she be careful and not sit on the bed anymore?

“Honey,” her mom repeated. Only this time it sounded as if she were just trying out the word without really knowing what it meant.

“Yes, Mom?”

“What?”

“Do you need something?”

Her mother shook her head.

“Do you—do you want me to let you rest?” Kia's heart thudded a little. She hoped her mom would say yes and she could leave, but then felt terrible about having the thought.

Her mother nodded. “Yes, rest. You rest.”

Kia bit her lip. “I don't need to rest, Mom, you do.”

“Yes, rest.”

Kia stood there, uncertain. Her mom was clearly elsewhere.“ Okay, Mom,” Kia said, putting the book down on the nightstand. “I'll come by again tomorrow. I got you a book.”

“That's good.”

The lines in her mom's face smoothed as she sank into sleep. Before Kia had even left the room, her mother's breathing was deep and slow.

Kia quickly walked the ten blocks home. As she neared the apartment building, she slowed down, realizing there was no point in hurrying. It wasn't as if she had anything to do. Carol had a music rehearsal and then planned to do some serious making out with the cello player. Aaron was trapped watching his baby sister, Miranda, aka The Surprise.

The doorman and Kia played their usual “Kia is invisible” game and ignored each other as she stepped through the glass doors into the plush lobby. Riding up, she tried to think of a way to occupy her time.

She unlocked the door and shouted, “I'm home,” just in case her dad was naked or with someone or something. The first week she moved in, both things had happened—luckily not at the same time.

“I'm home too,” her dad answered from the living room. Kia could hear a sports event droning in the background.

She passed the living room and saw her dad sitting in sweats on the leather sofa, wearing his reading glasses and surrounded by piles of files. He glanced up and noticed her standing at the edge of the room. He swapped glasses to look at her. “So how was your mom?”

Since the divorce her dad had stopped saying “Mom” as if it was her name and had switched to “your mom,” as if he had no relation to the woman whatsoever.

“Did you have a good visit?” he asked.

“Not so hot,” Kia said, in response to both questions.

“Oh.” He looked at her for a minute as if waiting for her to continue. She didn't. He cleared his throat, and it looked to Kia as if he was bracing himself, prepping for some task. “Did ... did something happen?”

Kia looked down at her fingernails. It was definitely time to reapply the polish—it was all chipped.
That's what I can do tonight.

“Kia?”

She looked up. “No, nothing unusual. Same old. You know, hospital shit.”

“Kia,” he said in a warning tone, “language.” He didn't like her to swear. He claimed it wasn't a moral issue or even a question of manners issue but aesthetics. “Cursing is a lazy form of speech,” he'd say.

“I mean, hospital
stuff.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not a big improvement, but I'll accept it for now.” He straightened a folder on the glass table in front of him. “I've got a load of work to do,” he said. “I'm starving. Let's just order in, okay? Pick what you want, and order me the Buddhist Delight.”

Kia smirked. “It's only four,” she pointed out. “Didn't you notice all the daylight?”

Her dad's attention went to the large window. “Oh, right. I guess I forgot to eat lunch. Well, I'll grab something now and when you get hungry, order. I can always microwave the Buddhist Delight later.”

He pushed aside the folders, stood, and stretched. “This case is going to kill me.” He walked past Kia and into the kitchen. Kia went into her room and shut the door.

She sat on her bed for a few minutes, then lay on her back for a little while longer. Her brain felt empty, as if she couldn't think of anything to think about. Rolling over, she grabbed the remote on the bedside table and clicked on the TV. Nothing held her attention. She shut it off.

Lying flat on her bed again, one arm under her head, she stared at the smooth cream-colored ceiling and sensed the blood in her veins. She shifted position—the awareness was still there. Not good.

She got up and flipped through her CDs. Nothing drew her. As she pulled her books out of her backpack, a CD fell out. The one that Virgil had given her.

That asshole.
She skidded the jewel case across the floor, where it careened like a hockey puck until it stopped under her bed.

This time she shut her eyes and grabbed a CD from her stack. Opening her eves again, she saw she had chosen Random's latest.

“Appropriate,” she murmured. She dropped the CD into the player and turned it on high.

The thumping bass and the insistent drums matched the sensation of the throbbing just under Kia's skin. She turned the volume up even higher, hoping to drown out the sound inside her with the crashing synthetic pulsing noise. She stood in the center of her temporary room and thudded a foot, getting the beat into her legs, letting it crawl up her body, wanting it to push out the need running the length of her arms. She threw back her head, raised her arms, and started to dance.

“You gave me the wrong idea,” she shouted along with the singer. “You made me think there was hope!” She danced hard, danced like a maniac, like a stripper, like a TV star, like a guy, like a Wiccan; she danced like Aaron, then Carol. She danced like she was never going to stop, never had to. She could feel her heart racing. It was working. She could dance it out, banish it; she didn't have to turn to cutting.

A pounding on the door. “Kia!” her dad shouted. “Turn that music down.”

She flung her head side to side, thrusting her shoulders forward, then back, her spine rippling. “You gave me the way in, the way out!” she sang.

“Kia!”

She turned her back to the door, too much competition, too many sounds, from the speakers, from beyond the door, from inside her.

“Kia! I mean it.”

Kia kept singing. “But now I—”

The door opened, her father walked in, and suddenly the only sound was Kia screeching, “Know I was a dope.”

“Kia,” her dad said. “Jesus. The walls are shaking.”

Kia stared at him. She couldn't hear him; her veins were screaming.

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I get it. I played my music loud too. But crank it down to a reasonable level. I'm trying to work.”

Kia gave her head a little shake. “Right. Sorry.”

“So we're good here, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Kia spun on her clunky heel, walked into the bathroom, and pulled out a razor.

Stop laughing!” Aaron ordered the next night, only it didn't carry much weight since he was giggling. The sight of him in a turquoise kimono made for someone five inches shorter was really hard to take seriously. Kia and Carol fell laughing against each other, then onto the floor. They barely escaped landing on the pizza box with the remains of their dinner still in it.

“Where did you get that monstrosity?” Kia gasped, trying to stop laughing long enough to ask the question.

“From the Drama Department,” Aaron said, striking a model's hand-on-hip-head-thrown-back pose.

“From last semester's
Mikado,”
Carol added, rummaging through the leftover crusts in the pizza box.

“I take it your costume has something to do with tonight's festivities,” Kia said, crunching on pizza crust.

“I got them for you too,” he said. He pulled two more kimonos out of his duffel bag and tossed them to Carol and Kia.

“No way!” Carol said, pulling the satin robe off her head, where it had landed. “I am not wearing this.”

“Me either,” Kia chimed. She held the pink robe up to her long-sleeved black turtleneck. “Did you really think this was me?”

“Come on, guys,” Aaron wheedled. “We need ceremonial robes to perform our first official coven ceremony.”

Kia gaped at him. “Our what?”

“I decided after that ceremony in the park that we are going to become witches,” Aaron said. “Cast spells. Do rituals.”

Kia burst out laughing. “You are deeply, deeply twisted.”

“That's why you love me,” Aaron countered.

Carol shook her head, then grinned. “Okay, I'm game. But no pictures! Come on, Kia.” She stood and headed toward the bathrobe.

Kia stood up, then stopped, her smile frozen on her face. The sleeves would only come down to her elbows.

Aaron knelt down and started pulling some bags from his duffel. “Candles. Herbs.” He glanced around the room. “Kia, can you go grab some matches from the kitchen? Oh, and some salt.”

“Okay.” Kia dropped the robe on Aaron's rumpled bed and went into the cramped kitchen. Baby paraphernalia was everywhere, so she had to be careful not to step on some toy or knock over the bottles, pacifiers, and baby food jars as she rummaged in the cupboard for a box of matches. Aaron's parents had taken The Surprise to meet some of their old hippie friends who also had a baby afterthought.

She took the saltshaker and matches back into Aaron's room. It had once been a fairly spacious bedroom, but since the arrival of The Surprise, a wall had been built down the center to turn it into two extremely small rooms. Carol and Aaron, both wearing kimonos now, put candles in different spots around the cramped room.

“Here you go,” Kia said, putting the matches and saltshaker on Aaron's dresser.

Aaron consulted a thick book with a spooky cover. “Oh, we need a bowl of water too. And something to represent air.”

“Like what?” Carol asked, sticking a bright yellow candle into a holder.

Aaron studied the book again. “A feather. Chimes. A fan.” He scanned the room, then snapped his fingers. “Got it!” He dashed out and came back holding a little battery-operated personal fan. “My mom was always hot those last months she was pregnant.”

He placed the fan carefully and stepped back, admiring the setup. He looked up at Kia and Carol and announced, “We are ready to begin. Oh, once Kia changes.”

Kia quickly slipped the kimono on over her clothes. “This is fine. Let's not waste any more time.”

Aaron looked disappointed but was obviously eager to get started. He piled some books in the middle of the tiny room. “Okay. These books say to cast a circle. Then it's time for some serious chanting and dancing. Now, do what I tell you and follow me when I start walking around in a circle,” Aaron instructed.

Kia saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Aaron took Carol and Kia's hands. “Shut your eyes and breathe, slowly and deeply.”