Creatura (18 page)

Once at home, I remembered I had forgotten to kill Bill for that little number he pulled at the cafeteria. I made a mental note to kill him tomorrow.

Before I ran upstairs to plug my phone into its charger, I stopped at the fridge to see if there was anything good to munch on while I worked on a two-page report for government and economics due on Friday. I figured I might as well get it out of the way while I had nothing else to work on.

The fridge was half empty. I took a sliced apple and the jar of peanut butter to my room. I finished my paper in about forty-five minutes. It was an overview of the last month’s work—no references needed. Piece of cake.

The bell chime sound coming from my phone indicated I had an incoming text message. I took the phone from its charger on my nightstand and scrolled through sixteen missed calls, eight voice mails and twenty-something texts, all from Gabriel. It was enough to make me think something was very wrong with him. The voice mails and texts basically said the same thing. He wanted me to call him to talk about us. The last text I received said he’d be dropping by later if it was okay with me.

“NO!” I replied.

My phone rang immediately after I pressed
send
. I crossed my fingers, hoping the display on my phone showed someone else’s name and number on it. Of course it was he. I let the phone go to voicemail. It rang again and again until it finally got on my nerves and I answered.

“What?” I tried to sound as rude as I could.

“Doll, why you givin’ me the cold shoulder?” He said with a bit of difficulty. His voice was slurred, just as Bill had described. “I just wanna talk.”

“Are you drunk?” I asked.

“Drunk? No, no. I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you
on
something, Gabriel? Is there something you have to tell me?” My female instinct started setting in. I started feeling like he was helpless without me. He sounded awful.

“Yes, I do have to tell you something. I have these new friends, Isis. They say things to me that make total sense. Things about you and me. Things about the world. I think you should meet them. They’re so cool. They want us to be together, and I know how to do that now.”

I started to freak out. “Gabriel, you’re not well. Tell me where you are and I’ll call your parents to come get you, okay?”

“Nope. Nope. I’m perfect, baby. Thank you for caring about me so much. I know you love me, Isis. I love you too.”

“Gabriel, tell me where you are.” My hand started to shake.

“My friends are here, so I have to go now. Can you hear them? They’re so loud and crazy. Oh, they say ‘hi’. They say they’ve been watching you. Anyway, I’ll call you later, babe.”

He hung up.

I held the phone in my hand, looking at it. I hadn’t heard anyone in the background as Gabriel spoke. Now I realized why Bill wanted me to issue a restraining order against him. Gabriel sounded legitimately insane.

I sat on my bed, still staring at the phone, and I wondered if I should call him back. I tried several times, but I chickened out and hung up before the line rang. My shoulders felt tense and stiff. I had to fix this somehow. I had to help Gabriel. I had known him all my life—his family too. Should I have called his parents? Surely, they had already noticed the onset of his new personality. Why weren’t they doing anything about it?

The sound of door slamming came from downstairs, making me aware that Claire was home. My first instinct was to tell her about Gabriel, but then she too might take everyone else’s side to have him apprehended. Having her work for a judge, I was sure they’d find some way to prosecute Gabriel—something I didn’t want. Keeping the matter to myself was probably the best option right now, unless I wanted to see Gabe behind bars.

Claire stood at the entrance to my room. “Hey, kiddo.” Her expression was unreadable. She wasn’t her usual chipper self.

“Hey, Mom. How’s your head?”

“A lot better,” she nodded.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sliding my phone closed and setting it aside.

“Nothing. Just tired from work,” she sighed. “It was a long day.”

“You want me to fix dinner tonight?” I offered, jumping off my bed.

“I’d appreciate it.” She vaguely smiled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I reached over to touch the small bump on her forehead. She flinched in pain. “Sorry,” I grimaced.

“I’m going to go take a long bath. I really need it.” She removed her earrings and slipped off her shoes. “You can hold off on dinner for a while. I’m really not that hungry.”

Something was bothering my mother. She only took long baths or showers when she was thinking very seriously about something. Claire took lots of those when my dad passed away. I knew she wasn’t going to tell me what she was concerned about. Whatever the reason, she didn’t want to share it with me. I respected her privacy as much as she respected mine, but it worried me when she acted this way, too.

Claire was unusually quiet during dinner. She didn’t cross-examine me about my day. It felt strange to me that we sat silently eating when usually she was telling me about some funny thing that happened at the office or how irritating it was to deal with difficult people. As strong as I felt the urge to ask what was going on with her, I let her be. She would tell me what was dancing around in her mind as soon as she was ready.

It was a few minutes past eleven o’clock when my phone rang. I wasn’t asleep yet, but a bout of nerves ran through my spine thinking it might be Gabriel talking nonsense again. Relieved to see the caller I.D. on my phone’s screen, I answered.

“Hi.” I spoke in a low voice and crept to my door to close it. I didn’t want to interrupt Claire’s sleep.

“
Hola,
Preciosa
.” That was the first time I had ever heard David speak in Spanish. His voice sounded crisp and deeper. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” I’m sure he noticed the smile in my voice because I heard him briefly chuckle.

“Can you open your window?”

I hesitated, wondering what this was about. “Okay,” I said without questioning.

David was sitting on the porch rooftop right outside my window holding a guitar. His fingers were positioned on the strings and he began to strum the instrument lightly.

“What are you doing?” I tittered.

“Shh…” He hushed me and continued to play a slow, soft melody.

His lips curled as he started to sing in almost a whisper in sync with the music:

“
Amore,
sei
il
mio
amore,

Amore,
il
mio
amore
sei
tuo
 
.
 
.
 
.”

The notes were precise and his voice was angelic. He continued to play slowly and perfectly for me. I didn’t know Italian so I had no idea what he was saying, but it was romantic and dealt with love. I was smiling from ear to ear. I shook in excitement. I was filled with utter exasperation and emotions beyond my control. Had he been any closer to my window I would have hurled myself at him. I had never been serenaded, nor did I know of anyone of my friends that had. I was starry eyed and enveloped in the moment.

When the song ended, I heard soft clapping behind me. Claire had woken up and was standing at the door with tears her eyes and a huge smile. I had inherited every bone of the romanticism in her.

“You have to turn the light on in response,” she sniffed as she quietly closed the door and left us alone.

Slowly, in the dark, I made my way to the wall and flipped the light switch on. Then I turned to the window where the brightness found David setting his guitar down. I sat on the windowsill grinning in delight.

“Thank you,” I smiled. “That was the most…” I was at a loss for words.

“You’re welcome.”

The shadow of his lashes fell over his cheekbones. His dark hair glistened in a blue-silver hue with the moonlight above.

“How did you get up here?” I wondered.

He laughed, “I flew.”

“Seriously…” I twisted my mouth.

“Isis,” He chuckled again. “I can fly. I can’t show you now, but you know what I am referring to.”

“No, I don’t,” I was confused.

“Wings.” He briefly showed me a light shimmer in the shadow of two silhouettes of wings spanned a small distance from his body. “They are kept discrete.”

“Invisible, you mean,” I corrected him.

“Right,” his dimples creased as he smiled.

He stood on the roof and took several steps toward the window and knelt. “I must go now. I came only to bid you good night.”

He lightly balanced my chin on his fingertips and leaned forward. He swayed his lips ardently yet gently against mine. One of his arms rested on my back while the other held my face to his. The gentle motion of his mouth on mine continued for several seconds.

Breathing heavily, I lightly pushed him away. I couldn’t do this. This wasn’t right. His laws forbade it.

“David, no.” My head fell to my chest, embarrassed to look at him.

He was still and silent for what seemed like an eternity until I was brave enough to look him in the eye.

“I’ll count the very seconds until I see you again.” His voice was soft.

“Good night,” I said, retreating into my room.

“Good night, my lovely,” he responded, disappearing into the shadows.

I pulled down on the window trying to shut it but it was stuck. I pushed down with all my strength shutting it with a sharp thud that made the glass move. A bit harder and I might have shattered it. Claire knocked on my door a minute after the loud crash. I opened the door and let her in.

“I’m okay. I had trouble with the window,” I quickly admitted.

“That was romantic.” She hugged me for a moment.

Claire walked toward the window and flipped the locks closed. “I’ve never been serenaded. You’re a lucky girl.” She pulled the curtains and sat on my bed. She gave me a look that made me uncomfortable.

“You know, honey, you’re almost eighteen years old, and I don’t have to remind you of the responsibilities that are associated with young adulthood.”

I threw a pillow over my head. “Not the ‘talk’ again, Mom!”

“It’s not a sex talk, Isis. It’s a reality-knocking-on-the-door talk. You know you have to be careful, right? You’d tell me if something… if you would need certain…
things
, before you did anything drastic, wouldn’t you?”

“Mom,” I whined. “This is embarrassing. I’m not asking you for birth control because I don’t have the need for it.” I let the pillow fall on the wooden floor. “Please go back to bed, Mom. I’m begging you. I really don’t want to have this conversation.”

Claire laughed. “Fine. Just keep it in mind.”

My mother was terrified of me having the same fate as her—pregnant at seventeen, mother at eighteen. She missed out on a lot of things: Prom, dating, college with her friends. I had told her time and again that I wasn’t active in that way and she always told me that most of the time we never expected it, it just happened. I shied away from talking to her about it because it just felt icky to talk about “it” with her. I didn’t even talk about “it” with Andy, and she was my best bud.

Andy texted me, bright and early, asking if I wanted a ride. The forecast for the day was cloudy and cool thanks to the northern winds, which had blown in sometime in the wee hours of the morning. I decided to enjoy the climate change before it was over and told Andy I’d walk.

The playlist on my IPod was at the highest deafening volume possible. I enjoyed my favorite tunes as I walked putting Gabriel, Claire, and David in that hiding place in the back of my mind where I would store them until I felt the need to worry about them again.

The breeze got colder as I walked past a small family owned store several blocks north of the gasoline station. I loved cold fronts when they were just setting in. The air was just cold enough to give you a chill, but not so cold as to give you frostbite. Of course, being in south Texas, frostbite was an exaggeration—the climate didn’t allow for snowfall.

At the entrance to the school, I found David sitting on a red brick bench made from the same bricks as the exterior of the school building. He was waiting for me with a smooth expression.

“Morning,” I said, looking away for a second as I wiped the girlish grin from my face. I was remembering last night’s all too perfect kiss.

“Good morning.” His face held on to his smooth façade.

He opened the glass doors for me and gripped my hand to follow him to a semi-empty area across from the glass doors and windows. He pushed me gently against the wall and cradled his nose next to mine.