Starfall (31 page)

Without hesitation she grabs my hand.

“I'd like to see my family once more.”

In an instant we've left paradise and are in Jess's family's kitchen. She looks exactly the same except that her expression is a bit harder. She's not trying to hide her feelings from me; it's just that she's a different person now, and she understands she's here as a visitor.

When Jess's mother enters the kitchen, Jess sits in a chair in the corner of the room and watches her mother go through her routine. Even though neither of us can be seen, I stand in a corner of the kitchen and try to disappear into the wall to lessen the feeling I have of being a voyeur. We both watch enraptured as Mrs. Wyatt takes groceries out from a shopping bag adorned with Japanese characters that spell out words Jess's mother never bothered to decipher. She doesn't care what the words are; she only knows her daughter gave her that bag, and that's good enough for her.

Jess watches her mother fold up the bag slowly and neatly and slip it in between some cookbooks in the baker's rack from which she'll retrieve it the next time she has to go food shopping.

Mrs. Wyatt takes the teakettle off of the stove, fills it with water, lights the flame, and places the kettle back to its original position. Then she sits at the kitchen table, her legs to the side, not underneath the table, in case she has to get up quickly to answer the phone or rush out of the room to take care of some forgotten chore. And then suddenly Jess gets up and kneels on the floor next to her mother and lays her head on her mother's lap.

I have a vague memory of doing the same thing to my mother—I guess every child has the same memory if he or she is lucky—and I don't know if Mrs. Wyatt can feel her daughter's presence, but she closes her eyes and lets the tears fall uninterrupted down her cheeks.

When the teardrops fall through Jess, they turn into tiny golden balls of water that explode like little fireworks when they touch the floor.

Without wiping away her tears, Mrs. Wyatt smiles, and I'm certain that she knows Jess is next to her. She will carry the memory of her daughter's death with her for the rest of her life; she has learned to handle the pain; she has learned to allow the joy of what it was like to know and raise Jess to touch her heart; she has learned how to maintain balance.

Misutakiti clearly needs a lesson.

Barking madly when he sees Jess, Misu jumps on top of her with such gusto that if she weren't some supernatural deity, she would've fallen over onto the floor. Mrs. Wyatt watches in amazement at the sight of her dog jumping and frolicking and rolling on the ground, yelping, his tail wagging out of control. She looks over at Jess. I have no idea if she's looking at her daughter or through her, but she smiles; it isn't wistful or forced, but genuine. Jess's mother is forever changed by what life has thrown at her, but she's going to be okay.

The shrill whistle of the teakettle pulls her from her reverie, and she gets up, steps over the still-animated Misu, and pours herself a cup of tea. She lingers in front of the window, the teacup in her hand, and lets the sunshine pour over her. This time she's pulled from her thoughts by a different, even more surprising, sound.

“Amelia.”

Jess's father is standing in the archway that separates the living room from the kitchen. He looks tired, but not as worn out as he did the last time I saw him. Jess stops playing with Misu in order to look up into her father's face. She is as startled to see him as her mother is.

“Henry,” Mrs. Wyatt says. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

He smiles at her awkwardly, like he must have the first time he asked her out on a date. “I thought,” he starts, before clearing his throat. “I thought we could have lunch together.”

Jess's parents stare at each other, and I believe it's the first time they're truly seeing each other since Jess's death.

“That would be very nice.”

Without speaking another word, Mrs. Wyatt opens up the refrigerator, and Mr. Wyatt sits at the kitchen table. When they find their voices again, they chat about the choices they have for food, though neither cares at all what they will eat, as long as they sit at the same table and face each other.

“I just have one more stop to make,” Jess says.

She grabs my hand, and we're whisked away to her brother's dorm room, the one he shares with Caleb at Big Red. It's empty, and I do my best not to look around to visually eavesdrop on Caleb's side of the room, though I do steal a glance at his bed, where he and I first made love, and despite the golden glow that's surrounding me, I feel my cheeks redden.

Jess sits at her brother's desk and pulls open a drawer on the left. I step a little closer and see that, among some papers and pens and even some stray beer bottle caps, is a photograph of Jess and Jeremy. It was taken when Jeremy was probably thirteen and Jess eleven, on Halloween, when Jess begged her brother to dress up as a Japanese samurai warrior and she went as Mulan. I remember how they fought about it and how he refused for weeks, saying that he wanted to dress up as the killer from the movie
Scream
or some wrestler, but Jess wouldn't relent. She pestered and begged and finally told him that he had to honor her request because she was an ancient Japanese princess, and ancient Japanese princesses always get their way.

The look on Jeremy's face was priceless. He wanted to tell her that she was crazy, but at the same time he loved her more than ever before for exactly that reason. He had a crazy sister, and instead of pushing her away, he embraced her. And that year he dressed up as a samurai warrior and later told me, in complete confidence, that it was the best Halloween ever. I swore I would keep his secret, and I did for about fifteen minutes, and then I told Jess exactly what he said.

She pulls a yellow rose out of the pocket of her robe and places it next to the photograph, next to the smiling faces of a brother and a sister, who will never forget one another even if they never see each other again.

When Jess turns to me, I know it's my turn to feel the same exact way.

“This is our good-bye too, isn't it?” I ask.

We're back in Omikamiland or wherever this yellow Eden exists, and I know that we're now moments away from being separated once and for all.

“It is, Dominysan,” Jess replies. “I wish it weren't so, but this is the way it has to be.”

I don't waste the few precious moments we have left questioning or debating. I reach out and grab my friend's hands and look her in her eyes.

“I love you, Jess,” I say. “You have been like a sister to me my entire life.”

“I feel the same way about you, Dom,” she replies.

Before I can continue on, Jess beats me to the punch.

“And I don't want to hear another word about guilt or shame or remorse over my death,” she insists. “Things happen, and we have to move on. And if you haven't noticed, this is a pretty amazing place to move on to.”

Gigglaughing, I reply, “It's a place built for an Amaterasu Omikami, which is what you are.”

“Right now I just feel like a girl saying good-bye to her friend,” Jess says.

We hug each other tightly, and it's as if our memories merge. Images of our life together pass through our minds, the two of us playing dress up, riding the bus to school, poring through fashion magazines, chatting in the dark lying side by side in my bed, sharing clothes and bras and gossip, all the simple things that make up a lifetime and a friendship. These things will never leave me; they'll never leave either of us, even if we have to leave each other.

“It's time, girls.”

Very reluctantly, I pull away from Jess, and when I look behind her, I gasp. It can't be! I blink my eyes and I was wrong; Mr. Dice is standing in front of me, but a second ago I could have sworn my father was gazing at me from over Jess's shoulder. His handsome, kind face, looking at me like he used to when he would have to wake me up for school on those days I just wanted to sleep for a few minutes longer. Could this man before me be my father? Could he and Mr. Dice be one and the same?

“Jess?” I start to ask.

Shrugging her shoulders, Jess replies,
“Seigen.”

“What?”

“Oh come on!” she cries. “Do you seriously not know the Japanese word for limitations?”

Smiling, I take one last look at Jess. My heart is so filled with emotion that it's hard not to cry, but I don't want to; I don't want to cloud my vision with tears; I just want to look at her.

“I have never . . .
ever
known a friendship like yours,” I say.

“And you never will again,” Jess replies.

More gigglaughs and cackles invade the serenity, and Mr. Dice or my father, whoever this man is, patiently stands by us, his hands folded behind his back, rolling his eyes. But the smile never leaves his face.

“Good-bye, Jess.”

“Good-bye, Dominy.”

Just before Jess fades away into the golden sunlight, she turns to me one last time.

“I have one more surprise for you,” she announces.

“What?!”

“Turn around.”

When I do, all the golden light has disappeared, and in its place everything has turned silver.

“Hello, Dominy,” Vera says. “I told you we weren't done with you just yet.”

I want to trust Vera; I really do. But it amazes me that a simple change in pronoun causes me such concern. Sure, I'm a logophile, someone who loves words, so the inclusion of “we” shouldn't freak me out. Unless that “we” includes Orion.

“Does it matter that I'd like to be done with you?” I say. “No offense.”

Smiling at me and looking way older than her fauxteen years, she says, “None taken.”

When we land in front of The Retreat, my instincts—the wolf's and the girl's—react, and not in a happy, optimistic way. My stomach churns, fueled by a feeling of dread.

“This is payback time, Dominy,” Vera states.

Payback? I know Vera isn't from this earth, but she must know that payback is not generally a good thing! Especially here, on this semi-possessed spot that houses The Retreat. This place was Luba's home-away-from-home for years; it's where both Essie and Winston were killed; it's where I almost got locked in The Dungeon, and it's where Nadine used to work. All of that adds up to not great odds in favor of payback's being any kind of gift that I'd like to receive.

“Trust me.”

Vera smiles and then walks toward the front entrance. She never looks back because she knows I'm going to follow her. Am I that obvious? Maybe. Then again, maybe I'm just curious. Like Elkie.

“Vera,” Essie's twin calls out from behind her receptionist's desk. “I never expected to see you again.”

Without breaking her stride, Vera replies, “Then what a lucky day it is for you, Elkie.”

I hesitate for a moment watching Vera walk down The Hallway to Nowhere and stare at Elkie. What is she? Is she a witch too? Or some other unidentified supernatural species? Could she just be possessed by Essie's spirit? I have no idea, but there's something not quite right about her. The good news is that she's on my side.

“It's a lucky day for you too, Dominy,” Elkie says.

Hmm, what does she know that I don't know?

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

She folds her hands primly and places them on top of her desk. “Rumor has it that Melinda and her brood left town,” she announces. “Scurried away in the middle of the night like freeloaders who could no longer afford to pay their rent.”

I employ shocked-face to make it appear as if this is the first I'm hearing this news. “Really!” I fake-gasp. “That means the entire town got lucky!”

Duly convinced that she's told me the best news of the century, Elkie beams, “And I have a feeling that your luck is going to continue.”

Entering Room 19, I expect to see Vera standing next to my mother. I never expect to see my mother standing next to Vera.

“Kishi kaisei,”
Vera says.

Wake from death and return to life! In the past I've found those words to be inspirational, but I never took them literally, I never thought those words would come true, especially not in connection with my mother.

“Mom?!”

Her tears come first and then her words.

“Oh, Dominy!”

My mother's voice sounds a bit different now; it's not so ethereal; it doesn't sound as if it's calling out to me from another dimension, and that's because she's merely calling out to me from the other side of the room.

“My baby,” my mother cries.

Her knees buckle, but she wills herself to stand strong. Her arms reach out to me, her hands wide open, so anxious to touch something rather than to be touched. “Please . . . please come to me.”

The walk toward my mother seems to take hours only because I'm so frightened that when I reach my destination I'm going to find out that Vera is playing a cruel hoax on me and my mother is just a hologram, a phantom. I'm terrified that I'm going to wrap my arms around empty air, embrace an image of my mother, nothing more. But I'm wrong. My arms press against her warm back, and I feel her hands wrap themselves around me and pull me closer to her.

“Oh, Mom,” I sob. “I can't believe this!”

“Oh, my baby, it's real,” she replies. “I'm here, I'm right here, and I'm never leaving you again.”

I'm overcome by the scent of Guerlinade, lilacs and powder and love smothering me and yet making it easier for me to breathe than it has been in years. Neither of us wants to let go and so we don't; we hold on to each other, thrilled that our touch elicits a response. No more one-sided conversations, no more embraces that have to be filled in with imagination. My mother is no longer in a coma, no longer unconscious. She's alive, but how?

“Payback,” Vera replies.

Pulling away from my mother is agony, but I must. I have to find out how this has happened. And above all else, I have to make sure that this is permanent.

“I don't understand,” I say. “Payback for what?”

“For maintaining balance, Dominy,” Vera answers. “Orion has unlocked Luba's spell and brought Suzanne back to life. He felt it was only proper, the only way for Him to follow your lead and maintain balance as well.”

“Follow
my
lead?” I ask.

Vera nods her head. “Luba isn't the only one who has learned from you.”

What do you know? I struggle for years in math and yet I've taught a star god a thing or two.

“Thank you, Vera,” my mother says.

It's such a simple comment for such an extraordinary act.

“Yes . . . thank you,” I add.

After everything I've been through, however, I'm not as simple or trusting as I used to be. “And this can't be changed, right?” I ask. “Luba can't come back at some point and return things to the way they were?”

“No, because this is the way things should be,” Vera replies. “And that's all that matters.”

I stare again at my mother and realize that I could stay in this spot forever without ever growing weary.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

She smiles at me, and I know exactly what she's going to say.

“Blessed,” she replies. “I know about everything you've had to go through. I've been a silent witness to all your pain, and,
ma chère,
I am so
very
proud of you.”

Instead of crying, I smile, and I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

“I'm proud of myself too.”

“And you should be, Dominy,” Vera says. “Remember, like it or not, you are Orion's child too.”

After she leaves, my mother and I are alone. Despite the fact that the both of us are awake at the same time in over a decade, the space between us isn't awkward; it's filled with joy. Incredibly, the joy explodes when my brother walks into the room.

“Mom.”

His voice is soft and unsure; he can't quite understand what he's seeing. But quickly belief takes over, and he doesn't waste another second trying to comprehend the implausibility of the situation; he rushes into my mother's arms. They're both so overcome with emotion; I'm not sure who's holding the other up.

“Barnaby,” my mother whispers. “My little boy.”

Finally they unhug, but refuse to fully separate and keep holding hands as they stare at one another.

“My little boy,” my mother says, “is now a little man.”

“And my mom is alive.”

Leave it to Barnaby to be blunt.

“When Vera told me to meet her here,” he continues, “I thought she wanted to give me a brush-up lesson before my exams next week.”

So that's why he showed up.

“Nope,” I say. “She had a much better surprise for you.”

Barnaby looks at me with a knowing stare. I'm not sure what knowledge is percolating behind his eyes, but he's much smarter than I give him credit for.

“Looks like you and Vera are alike,” he comments.

“In what way?” I ask warily.

“You're both full of surprises,” he says.

Before I can think of some way to answer my brother, his attention turns back to my mother, where it should be. “But your resurrection, Mom,” he claims, “trumps any surprise Dominy could ever come up with.”

For the briefest instant my mother and I catch each other's eye, and we smile conspiratorially; it's like our mother-daughter relationship was never interrupted. Well, no more interruptions. I can't wait to fill her in on all the details of my life, formally introduce her to Caleb, reunite her with Louis, have her meet the now-grown Arla, whom she hasn't seen since she was a little girl. First, however, I need to take her home.

 

As luck would have it, the people who bought my old house have fallen onto hard times. Not that that's lucky for them, but it is lucky for us. With Louis's help, we were able to buy back our house with the money my father put aside for Barnaby's and my future, and the new owners even made a small profit, enough to help them become hopeful that their future would be brighter.

Moving back into our old home is definitely bittersweet. Louis has truly come to cherish his role as my and my brother's guardian, and he was looking forward to helping us navigate life's twists and turns. Thanks to Barnaby, Louis won't get off the hook just because my mother is now the head of our family.

“It's okay if I still come to you if I have any questions about, you know,
stuff,
right?”

Barnaby's question leaves Louis speechless. He has to focus on the sidewalk outside of his house and then glance over to the moving van that houses our bedroom furniture before answering.

“Barnaby,” Louis says, his voice now strong and certain, “you have an open invitation.”

“Cool,” Barnaby replies. “I may not listen to you, but it's good to know you'll be there in case I need to ask.”

“Thank you, Louis,” my mother says, making his name sound Frencher than ever before. She holds his hand tenderly. “I don't think I can ever repay you for loving my children.”

Louis swallows hard before answering. “It was the easiest job I've ever had.”

Laughter and hugs and a few tears come next, which is normal when people enter new phases of their lives. Louis and Arla gave us a home when we didn't have one, and I will be eternally grateful to them for their kindness.

But now it's time for us to build a home together—Barnaby, our mother, and me—in the home we shared all too briefly and the home that I'm now reluctant to leave.

 

“I've made a decision, Caleb,” I say. “And don't yell at me.”

We're sitting on my bed, a fresh coat of pink paint on the wall facing it, so I can wake up every morning and see my favorite color.

“Do I ever yell?” he asks. “What've you decided?”

“I'm putting off college for a year,” I announce.

I scrunch up my face, waiting for the yell to come from Mr. Academician. It never does.

“I think that's a great idea,” he says, fiddling with the string bracelet he still wears around his wrist. “You need time to reconnect with your mom.”

“How'd you know that was the reason?” I ask.

He stops playing with the string and looks at me quizzically, his hands folded in his lap. “Because I never stop thinking about you, Domgirl.”

He hasn't touched me, and yet I still feel myself blush.

“Before I open my eyes, you're the first face I see,” he says without a hint of embarrassment. “And when I go to bed at night, you're the last image I see before I fall off to sleep. You're with me, Dominy, always.”

I feel the same way about Caleb. It came over me unexpectedly, a bit sneakily, but lately, maybe since my life is much calmer than it's been in years, only the good stuff rises to the surface. And there's nothing gooder than Caleb.

“And if I have anything to say about it, Domgirl,” he states, “that's the way it's going to be for the rest of my life.”

Did he just propose? He isn't even out of college yet. And then there's med school. Or maybe I'm just getting ahead of myself.

“But for right now you just enjoy a year of reconnecting with your mother and Barnaby,” he says, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Relearn what it's like to be a family.”

I plan on doing just that.

Most girls can't wait to graduate high school and go off to college to get away from their mother and little brother. But not me. I guess it really is true what they say: One person's curse is another person's blessing.