Gateway (The Gateway Trilogy, Book 1) (19 page)

“So, what did you want to do tonight?” she asked.

“Whatever you want, Mom, really.”

“How about pizza and a reality T.V. marathon? I recorded a whole season of that one with the fake Italian kids at the beach.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “Let's do it.”

She put an arm around me and guided me to the living room. A part of me would always be on the alert around her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I'd learned to enjoy her during these times when she was lucid, happy, and just my mom. Kat joined us on our garage sale sofa to watch crap television on our outdated set, and I couldn't have been more content.

Kat's threshold for reality programming was apparently lower than mine and Mom's; she drifted off after the first few episodes.

When I went into the kitchen for another slice of pizza, Mom followed me.

“Honey, I didn't want to ask in front of your friend, but how are you? Do you like where you are? Do you think you'll be ready to come home soon?”

It was the one question that could spoil the evening. How could I tell her that I wasn't coming home? That I belonged at the Institute, and until I graduated I'd be living there. I'd always known as soon as I turned eighteen I'd be out of her house. I think she knew, too, and was preparing for it. But to leave a year and a half early… I was worried how she would react.

“I like it, Mom. A lot, actually.” It had to be done. Slowly, or all at once was the question. “The classes are really advanced. I'm learning stuff I never would have gotten to in public school.”

I searched her eyes for a reaction. So far so good.

“It's not just a place for troubled teens. So even once they deem me not a threat to myself, I can stay, if I want to.”

“And do you want to?” Her voice was quiet, but didn't break, and no tears were forthcoming.

“If you say it's OK, then, yeah, I think I would like to stay.” There, it was done. I added, “But I'll come home as much as they'll let me.”

She let out a long sigh. “Well, if that's what you want. I miss you like crazy, but you look better than you have in a long time. If being there is making you happy, then it's what I want for you. God knows I don't want you to end up like me…”

Her face clouded but her eyes remained dry. “I'm sorry, Mom,” I said.

“No, Em, I'm sorry. I know… I know what I am. And I can only imagine what it's done to you. Don't end up like me, and don't raise a child like this. Whatever they're teaching you, it's working. I guess it's time I grew up.”

I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”

***

Television marathon over and Kat already fast asleep on the sofa, Mom and I climbed the stairs to our respective bedrooms.

“Love you honey, see you tomorrow,” she said.

I returned the sentiment and opened the door to my room, finding it exactly as I'd left it. Art supplies in stacks on the floor, bed unmade. I entered and stopped cold.

The mural.

My heart raced. Kat was right downstairs. She couldn't be allowed to see this. I didn't even want to see it. It loomed in front of me like a gaping mouth, threatening to swallow me whole. I scanned my room. The only paints I had were in small tubes, not nearly enough to cover the wall. I pulled one of the blankets from my bed. It was lightweight and meant for a king-size bed. I'd folded it to fit my twin. I shook it, watching it unfurl. The fabric was all black with a violet lotus woven into it. It would more than cover the symbol.

I yanked open the drawers of my desk and found a full box of thumbtacks. They would have to do; I couldn't start hammering at midnight. My mother might not have found it odd, but I was certain Kat would and come running. I pulled my chair over to the wall and began the arduous process of pressing thumbtacks through drywall. Fifteen minutes later my fingers were raw, but the blanket provided a thin sheath that covered the symbol completely.

I sat down on my bed, spent.

Covering it up doesn't change what you are.

I don't want it to. Otherwise I couldn't stop you.

If the Demon replied, I didn't hear it. Master Dogan was right, I was much better at blocking it out, now.

My sleep was fitful, but I'd been expecting that. If there was a way to meditate while asleep, my classes hadn't yet covered it.

I stumbled downstairs, the smell of coffee filling my nostrils and making me smile. Kat was already seated at the folding card table we ate on. Mom was at the stove, flipping a pancake.

“This one's for you, babe. Kat's already had three,” she said with a grin.

“I couldn't help it, they're too good.” Kat said, patting her belly.

I poured myself some coffee and refilled Kat's cup.

“So, what do you girls want to do today?” Mom asked, sliding my pancake onto a plate.

“Up to you,” Kat said to me. It stood to reason; Kat could come and go as she pleased from the Institute.

I poured a generous helping of syrup and considered the options. “How about some shopping?”

“Ooh, I like this plan,” Kat said.

I wondered if she realized mine and Mom's shopping trips consisted of hunting for treasures at second-hand stores.

“Great, it's settled then,” Mom said, stealing a bite of my pancake.

As I ate, I noticed the pill minder on the table. When she was on the wagon, my mother portioned out her meds into the daily slots. Friday's and Saturday's were still full. Missing one day didn't usually have an adverse effect, but I popped open today's and held them out for her to take.

She shook her head. “No, thanks, I'm good.”

I tilted my head. We'd had this conversation before. “Yes, you are good. Let's keep you that way.”

“Em, it's fine, I'll start again tomorrow. You know how cloudy they make me. I just want to be awake enough to enjoy your visit.”

“Mom, you know—”

“I said it's fine. Now please stop embarrassing me in front of your friend.”

My mother's tone was firm and I knew it was a lost cause. I put the pills back in the case. Kat just stared into her cup.

“So, which store do you want to hit first?” my mother said.

***

As expected, Kat was less enthusiastic once we pulled up to the first thrift store. Mom and I searched the racks while Kat chatted with a painfully Emo kid. For her part, mom seemed to be doing well, but I found myself in the familiar role of studying her, watching for any sign of an impending apocalypse.

I tried on multiple pairs of jeans; Mom modeled a poodle skirt and several hats. We didn't find anything at the first store, and headed off to the next. Kat was a decent sport about it, never complaining, but never trying anything on, either.

A few hours and several thrift stores later I'd found a pair of jeans, an alligator shirt I hoped I could pull off as ironic, and a vintage dress I had only tried on at my mother's pleading and then bought at Kat's insistence. Mom had made out like a bandit, her best find a tailored pea coat. We were at our last stop and Kat was clearly bored.

“Try this on,” I said, holding out a tie-dyed lime green jumpsuit.

She laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

“Try it on,” I said again, “and I'll try on these.”

I held up a pair of gold hot pants and a black sequined halter-top. Kat laughed in spite of herself.

“You're on,” she said, grabbing the jumpsuit.

We each disappeared into a dressing room and changed into our outfits. I was self-conscious emerging—I looked ridiculous—but a deal was a deal. I stepped out to see Kat in the one outfit that could make her look less than gorgeous. The jumpsuit was four inches too short and sagged in the crotch. I looked just as outrageous, the pants skin tight and top dipping low where there should have been more cleavage. We both burst out laughing. Mom walked over to see what was going on and howled. She pulled out her cell phone to take a picture and Kat and I dashed back into our respective dressing rooms.

“Not fair, Mom! That's against the rules,” I called, hastily changing clothes.

“Sorry, sorry, you're right,” she said. “You girls ready for some food?”

We were, and the three of us went to my favorite Indian place. It was fun to hit all of my favorite places in one day, like living a highlight reel. It was early evening by the time we made it home. Mom had already OK'd us going to the all-ages show, so Kat and I laid down for what Mom called a “disco nap.”

I woke, groggy in the way you can only get from sleeping in the middle of the day. Downstairs, Kat was watching television.

“Where's my mom?” I said.

She shrugged. “She wasn't here when I got up.”

“I'm going to hit the shower. You need anything?” I asked.

“Nope. I'll hop in when you're done.”

***

Kat refused to let me look in the mirror.

“I've been doing my own hair since I was six,” I said above the noise of the hairdryer.

“Don't I know it,” she said, her concentration on my dark locks.

“Hey—”

“Oh hush,” she said, “I'm teasing. I just thought you could use a break from the norm. If you don't like it, I will personally get out my flat iron and give you back stick straight hair.”

She was using a diffuser, twisting and rolling sections of my hair as she blew it dry. I closed my eyes and submitted to the treatment. She had already done my makeup. I could tell by the soft brown colors she had used it was wasn't my normal look as far as that went, either.

“And voilà!” She spun me around so I could see myself. Soft waves framed my face and fell past my shoulders, with just enough of a tousled look to make them seem effortless. My eyes looked bigger than usual, with just a hint of smokiness at the corners.

“Well?” Kat asked. “What do you think?”

I considered. It didn't quite look like me. There was nothing edgy or different looking in what I saw, especially wearing the dress Kat had insisted I buy. I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

“I guess I didn't know I could look… pretty,” I said finally.

“Ember, you're always pretty,” she said. “You're beautiful. I just thought you might want to try something new.”

I had to admit, the look was growing on me.

“Thanks,” I said, giving her a hug, “you did great.”

“So, no flat iron?”

“Not tonight,” I said and laughed.

“Good because it's almost nine,” she said. “We should go.”

I grabbed my bag and slung it across my body. “All set.”

We bounded downstairs, her excited to see Magda, me just happy to go out after dark.

I stopped short when I saw my mom on her hands and knees cleaning the kitchen floor. She'd come home soon after I'd gotten out of the shower and been busy downstairs ever since. Seeing her now, scrubbing a non-existent spot, my heart sank.

“It looks pretty clean, Mom. Why don't you relax and I'll make you a snack?”

She shook her head. “It is not clean. And it wouldn't kill you to give me a hand before you take off for the night.”

“Can I help tomorrow?” I asked. “The show starts in—”

“Forget it, I'll do it myself,” she said, dusting herself off.

She strode into the living room—her pace too quick, her tread too hard. I wanted to beg her to take her meds, but I knew it was too late for that.

“No, Mom, we'll help. It's no big deal to miss the first few songs.”

I tidied the coffee table—lining up remotes and stacking magazines. Kat caught on and folded her blanket. She began fluffing pillows, giving one of them a smack which caused a cloud of dust. She had no idea what she'd just set in motion.

“Look, look at that. It's filthy in here. You can't just slap the dust around, Kat. Don't you know what dust mites are?”

Kat looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I'm sorry, Ms. Lyons—”

“Forget it. Just go, both of you.”

Kat looked at me, unsure of how to respond. I'd seen this before and knew she was going to be at this all night. The neighbors would be complaining about her vacuuming at two a.m. again.

“OK, Mom. We'll see you later,” I said, but she was paying no attention. She was busy pulling the covers off the couch cushions and muttering.

I edged out of the room, Kat close behind.

“Is she alright?” she asked when we reached the door.

I shook my head. “No, but once it's started there's no choice but to let her go. If we stay out late enough she'll be asleep by the time we get back.”

The door clicked shut behind us, and I knew I'd have a different mother by morning.

The club was filled with smoke despite the No Smoking signs posted throughout. We'd been too late to say hi to Magda before the show, so Kat flirted and muscled us up to the front of the stage. The lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into applause as the all-girl band sauntered onstage. Magda was stunning in thigh high boots and a short red dress. Her face brightened on seeing Kat at the front of the crowd.