Glow: Chapter 2. A Short Story by Lisa Vega
Short Story Written by: Lisa Vega
Creative Direction by: Catie Menke
Most days I didn't leave the condo. Ghostwriting from home had its perks, if you could call them that. For one, I could remain in bed all day if I wanted to, just prop a pillow under my neck and drag my laptop onto my stomach. Only get up to piss and pick leftovers out of the fridge.
Today was one such day. I'd slammed out two blog posts for a carpet cleaning company before I even bothered to hydrate myself. By the time I shuffled into the kitchen to fill a glass with tap water, my head was pounding at the temples. I found my phone uncharged on the counter. Perhaps I could manage to check my matches on Footsie before the battery died.
Posy. Seeing her name made my throat tighten. I should have been excited to hear from her, but the last we'd seen of each other was after her grandmother's burial service. It was not a day I cared to go back to. That said, I didn't always have a choice, and as the floor shifted beneath me and the letters in P-O-S-Y scrambled themselves on my screen, all I could do was close my eyes and ride it out.
"You really gonna go?" I had caught Posy out in our old field. She'd come here to hide, and I didn't blame her. Perhaps I'd had the same idea.
She was looking out toward the woods, black pumps in her hand. An empty wine bottle bled its last into the dirt beside her. "What else am I gonna do?" she replied. "Been spinning my wheels out here for too long. Who knows, maybe the two of them shuffling off was the universe saying something. Telling me to let go or whatever."
Posy the realist was never one to go looking for meaning where it wasn't obvious. If she was moving away, it was because she'd wanted to for a long time and was waiting for an excuse.
"No, I guess it isn't." She looked down, shame red on her cheeks, and started breaking off the tips of tall weeds with her free hand. "Truth is, I think this town is holding me back."
Expected as it was, it still stung to hear. I had been Posy's biggest cheerleader up to a point, helping her practice and fundraise for state competitions, spending countless hours just watching her show off her abilities, when I could have been honing mine.
"Wow," I blurted, "how grateful you are for all the support we've given you." She was grieving. I should have kept my mouth shut. But there was little time for me to realize and voice my remorse, for Posy had spun to face me, glow flaring bright.
It was the first time I had ever considered that Posy Thorne could turn those medal-winning powers onto me. My blood ran cold.
She was inching closer, encroaching on my space until her breath was hot on my face. She was so bright it hurt.
"All I'm saying is," I swallowed, suddenly parched, "perhaps a thank you would be a bit more appropriate than dumping on the people who got you where you are."
I was growing more foolish by the second.
"Got me where I am, wow," she laughed. "That what you think you've been doing?" I didn't like the tone she took or the manic look in her eye. I hated where this was going, but I had exhausted all my chances to speak. Posy the steamroller was going to have her way now, and I'd chosen to stand in it. "You turned out just like everyone else, didn't you, Sib? You'd take all the scraps you could get from me if it meant you could finally be something."
And for a moment, I felt like a tin can, or a paper target. I was riddled with holes and toppled onto the damp earth. She had finally said what she'd been thinking.
Posy, always above admiring her own work, was already walking away. "I'm not going to stick around here to work some shitty day job, hoping my chance will just fall into my lap," she jabbed. "I'm going to do what I've always done. Try."
I didn't go in after her and try to salvage things, but I didn't stomp off either. My indignation lingered and so did I. It wasn't until the cold started to nip at my shoulders that I got up the nerve to move. Even then, the best I could do was walk to my car and leave without saying goodbye.
I was shaking when I came to, my glass of water shattered on the floor. My dying phone was still gripped tightly in my hand.
When I returned to my laptop, I found I could no longer concentrate. I stared at the keyword-saturated paragraphs on the screen and felt dirty. I tried to drum up some happy memory to lose myself in, but her name had etched itself behind my eyelids.
Momma eventually came home, but it was too late. The witch got me. She had tried to tell me Momma was bad. She even sent bad people to the house, but I didn't let them in. I kept the bottom and top locks locked and the blinds shut just like Momma had taught me. I shouted through the door that Momma was at the store and I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. I thought I'd sent them away for good.
But when Momma came back, so did they. And when they took me away, I wanted to believe her tears meant she didn't want them to. So I clawed and kicked and bit at the strange arms that held me around my waist, and I screamed for her. I was sorry I ever opened the front door, sorry I left the house without her permission. I promised I would never do it again. But Momma didn't move.
Only when I reached out to her with both of my arms did I notice them glowing their rainy blue, and Momma's eyes drying the farther I was dragged away. “Everything’s going to be okay, Baby Blue,” she called to me.
As I was placed in the backseat of a car, Momma lit a shaky cigarette and gave me a wave goodbye.
Eloise stepped out just as I was climbing the porch steps. We hugged at length. She gripped me by the arms and held me in front of her to "get a good look at me."
"Nonsense," she replied, smacking me lightly on the shoulder. "It's been just as long as it needed to be." She ushered me through the door.
Inside, the house was surprisingly tidy. The old floral wallpaper was replaced with mint and white stripes, but the original furniture remained: the coffee table that creaked and wobbled if you bumped it, the faded cream-colored couch, the curio cabinet filled with knick-knacks and family photos. I admired them as if they weren't my own.
"The outside's in a bit of a state of disrepair, I'm sorry," Eloise called over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen. "The grandkids make it hard to keep up with anything, but I still try to check on the place a few times a week."
I should have sold it before I left, instead of burdening others, but back then I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye. Eloise had been kind enough to offer to look after the property in my absence. "How're Gwen and the kids doing?" I asked.
Eloise was returning with two glasses of iced tea. "Oh wonderful. Aurora's turning eight soon--will we see you at her party?"
My face burned. "I don't know if that's a great idea." Eloise motioned for me to sit. I didn't long to stay, but old habits died hard.
"Well, there's no pressure dear," she said gently, placing my hand in hers, "though it would certainly make Aurora's year. She's become quite the fan."
"Everyone has," I laughed. We sat in silence. I sipped my tea, awaiting the inevitable.
"Have you spoken with Sibyl since you've been back?" My spine seized hearing the name, even though I'd mentally prepared for it. I set down my glass and avoided looking Eloise in the eye.
"No."
"Well," she started, "I know that whatever it is, it's between the two of you. I won't get involved."
"But it couldn't hurt to reconnect, would it? You were so close as girls; it'd just be a shame, is all." She followed up quickly with, "All right, that's as involved as I'm getting, promise."
I almost laughed. I could rarely be angry with Eloise, and even more rarely refuse her a single thing. "Maybe," I offered, "I'll shoot her a text, see what she says."
She shook my arm affectionately. "Atta girl."
We chatted for longer than I could have imagined, recounting fond memories and catching up on new ones. Gwen, her oldest, was busy with the new baby and planning Aurora’s birthday party. Sib was still tragically single, but then so was I. Eloise poo-pooed me staying in a hotel like I'd planned. "This is your house, little one," she insisted. "You can't ignore it forever."
She left me there, planting kisses on both my cheeks, and I found myself suddenly bereft without the company.
I couldn't sleep that night. I sensed the walls creeping ever closer, tightening around the living thing that now occupied the long-dead space. It was well past midnight when I finally got up and walked onto the porch. The chill air snaked beneath my camisole and drew goosebumps along my skin.
I continued down and around to the back of the house. Into the dried grasses that reached up as high as my waist. Arms spread wide, I inhaled. As I breathed out, a cloud of yellow dust spread over the field, between the barren trees and beyond.
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