Page 61 of The Infinite Light of Dust

I felt a little sick, the memory still fresh in my mind. It played through like a film on an IMAX screen. Gloria’s screams and the blood soaking the floor, everyone scattering, Kael . . .

“I’m going to get some air,” I said as my chest heaved. Without looking at my dad and Estelle, I stood up, the room slightly blurry, like the lines of everything were fuzzy around the edges. When I stepped outside, the air was chilly, bringing a little more awareness to my mind. I sat on the swing, lifting my feet, waiting for my body to come down from fight-or-flight. I pulled my phone out to call Kael. His voice would calm me. The swing moved slowly as his soothing voice came through the line. I hadn’t forgotten about him knowing about my father’s situation, but right now none of that mattered.

“Hey, you okay?” he immediately asked.

“Yeah. I think so? I’m at my dad’s and he started talking like an actual dad, Estelle was offering me her therapist friends, it was a lot. I needed some air. I came out to the porch swing and just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I agree with Estelle,” he told me.

“Are you being sarcastic?” I kicked my feet up. I had left my shoes inside by the door and my socks had little penguins on them. I wiggled my toes, pretending to be a girl on the phone with her boyfriend, no life-changing events happening around her, no near-death experiences.

“A little, but I do think she’s right that you should talk to someone. What happened isn’t something you should brush off or ignore. I know you want to show yourself that you’re strong, but sometimes strength lies in admitting when you need a little more than yourself to lean on.”

“Hmm. I’ve been to therapists many, many times about my childhood and my mom and honestly, I’m not sure that it—” I blinked at a movement in the yard.

I was positive I was losing my mind. That Estelle and Kael were both right. Or had I fallen asleep at some point and was dreaming? The woman walked toward me, her eyes set straight on me. I wiped my eyes with my hands, sure as hell that it wasn’t possible that I was seeing what I thought I was. Or whom I thought I was.

My mom.

She was here?

In person?

At my father’s house?

“Karina?”

The way she said my name made it sound like she was the one who should be surprised to see me.

I pushed my socked feet into the concrete porch to stop the swing from moving. My phone slid off the edge and hit the porch, face down. I couldn’t move to pick it up. My mom hadn’t changed physically since I last saw her. Her already long hair was a few inches longer, now passing her waist. She was dressed in a long, colorful patchwork tunic and leggings with large wildflowers printed on them. The tunic had long patterned sleeves that flared out at the ends. She looked like she’d walked out of a photo from Woodstock, a bohemian flower child of a woman who was floating toward me. I wasn’t sure her sandaled feet were even touching the ground.

“What are you . . . why are . . .” My heart pounded so hard that it felt like I was shaking the ground beneath us. She’d finally, finally come back to find me. I couldn’t believe it, even though she was right there. I didn’t know why she’d chosen now, but I was so elated to see her that tears involuntarily poured out of my eyes like they were water sprinklers.

I jumped to my feet and confusion washed over me as her face shifted into a frown. Was something wrong with her? Did she come back to tell me that she was sick? Oh god, I thought, both of my parents were sick? My mind couldn’t keep up with the theories flying around.

“Is your dad home?” Her voice carried through the light wind. Her eyes went to the window behind me, the yellow glow of the light through the window casting a shadow onto her face.

“Yeah. And Estelle.” I realized my mom probably had no idea that my dad was remarried. “Estelle is—”

“I know who she is.” My mom’s lips turned into a smile but the shape of it made me take a step back, my knees knocking into the front edge of the wooden swing. There was something off about the way she was behaving. It didn’t seem like she was drunk or anything, just off. Or maybe I had created a version of her that wasn’t reality, but when I imagined our reunion, she was always running toward me with open arms and teary eyes, telling me how sorry she was while she stroked my hair and hugged me tight.

Instead, she stood at the bottom of the porch like she was a vampire who hadn’t been invited in. I was at a loss for words and waited for her to say or do something.

The door creaked open behind me and Estelle stepped onto the porch. I felt like the porch was spinning—it had to be a dream.

“Karina, who are you . . . Michelle, what are you doing here?” Estelle’s tone was one I had never heard from her.

“I’m here to see Dennis. To finish our conversation from the other day,” my mom replied, equally as hostile.

“The other day?” I interrupted. “You were here the other day?” None of this made any sense.

“Karina, could you please give us a moment?” Estelle asked me. I jerked my neck, snapping at her.

“Give you a moment? She’s my mother and I haven’t seen her in—” I trailed off, digesting the disinterested look on my mother’s face.

“Where is he?” my mom asked, not acknowledging my outrage and confusion. Was this the same woman who’d told me tales and hummed me to sleep? Maybe she was on drugs? Or suffered from memory loss? Nothing made any damn sense.

“He’s inside, but he will not be talking to you.” Estelle was firm, to which my mother laughed, covering her mouth.

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