Page 4 of Above
Just like this one.
Already annoyed at the impending lecture, I opted to let go of the food and will the bags to the wooden countertop in the kitchen. I watched with glee as they floated through the entryway and below the arched opening on our left. My now free hand leaned against the wall that housed each of our coat hooks, the chipped cream paint grainy beneath my fingers as I unlaced my boots.
“You know Mama and Dad don’t like it when you cut corners with your magic. It’ll make you lazy,” Celeste huffed as she followed the floating groceries into the kitchen. I had no choice but to do the same, my bare feet padding against the cracked wood. I hated when they acted like my magic was anything other than a gift, but I was tired tonight.
The candlelight flickered as we got to work putting everything away. Silence consumed the kitchen, threatening to swallow the two of us up—to feast on what little peace we had momentarily found on the outside steps.
“You can’t keep doing this, Nova,” Celeste finally said, her scolding that of a mother rather than a sister. I loathed when she took that tone with me.
“Do what? Feed us? Make sure that you live?” With that, I finally tugged off my pack, the faded black material a comfort against my skin as I set it onto one of the mismatched wooden chairs at the kitchen table and unzipped it. “Speaking of which, I have a dose for you.”
“This is what I mean! You lie and steal, you hurt people, and then you come home and force us all to accept it. Not to mention you practically pour haya down our throats. This can’t go on!” Celeste’s arms flew up, her anger tinting her freckled brown cheeks and making her short curls sway.
People used to ask us if we were twins growing up, the only startling difference in our appearances was the fact that she had eyes the color of angry storm clouds whereas mine were that ofheated honey. Now, as the haya fought to cease her aging, the faint wrinkles on her skin began to mark us as different.
“I won’t sit back and watch as you guys starve, or worse, grow old and die! You can’t ask me to give up, not when I have worked so damn hard to save you three!” I was shouting too, our normal consideration for our father gone in the heat of our mutual fury—a fire that had burned for over a decade.
“Have you for one second stopped to consider the fact that we might not want this? That we are tired of the pain and fear? This isn’t only about you!” Her finger pointed my way, the tip now inches from my face. Her faded and torn nightshirt was all she wore, and I could see the goosebumps emerging on her skin. She needed new clothes. That had to be done before I left. Shaking my head, I worked hard to focus.
“No, Celeste, I haven’t. Because it is me who will be left alone if you three die. Me!”
For a split-second, I saw the pain of that thought flash across her grey eyes, crinkling them and showing me how, even with haya in her system, my sister still grew older. I needed to get to my lab. To find answers. Tonight.
“You know, our family would be broken without you. Do you think of how we would suffer at the thought of you alone in a prison? Or hanging from the gallows? How we might blame ourselves? When will you stop acting like your pain is the only one that matters?”
Balling my fists, I pushed down the magic within me as it fought to break free. To please my rage. Celeste seemed eager to hit me as well. She was tense, her eyes turning to slits as she stared at me. Before our argument could turn to blows, the click of the door opening had both of us freezing, our heads moving in sync towards the archway.
“Hey, girls. Why are you both up so late?” Mama asked as she walked through the doorway, her dress clinging to her thinframe, her apron stained, and her pale blonde hair wrapped in a knot atop her head.
Unlike Celeste, our mother’s aging was more prominent. Her nearly translucent skin showed every crease, each dip and mark. I had not gotten to her and our father quickly enough. By the time I had saved enough for their first dose, my parents had spent fifty-two years aging. Celeste, on the other hand, had only been thirty-one when she began taking haya, and she had been obsessed with skin elixirs back then—with looking as if she, too, would never age. I missed those days.
“Hey, Mama, we were just talking as we put away some groceries,” I chirped, my smile forced. “How was work? I hope no one argued with you tonight, those cheap losers. Oh my gosh, did that weirdo who has a crush on you come in? What about—“
“What groceries?” Mama asked, cutting off my rambling attempt to distract her. At my side, Celeste crossed her arms and huffed indignantly. Traitor.
Ringing my hands, I tried to think of a believable excuse while also remembering the ones I had already used. Mama wasn’t an idiot.
“Well,” I started, my back sweating despite the cold. “Another grunt is moving from the Sham District to the Star District since she is tired of the new curfews, so she let me have all the food she wasn’t taking. Pretty nice of her, huh?”
“Oh, please,” Celeste whispered into my ear as our mother opened the ice box—another item I had paid for with money from stolen goods. And one that I kept cold with a charm made by the magic they all seemed to loathe more and more each day. “Mama isn’t stupid enough to believe this mystery shaytan had exactly the things we needed.”
With a smile on my face and my eyes trained on Celeste’s, I said, “She didn’t have any milk or carrots though, so we still need those.”
Celeste punched my arm. “Idiot.”
“Idiot,” I mocked.
“Idiot,” she mocked back, our old habit of copying the other with whiny voices coming out with the tension.
“Well that’s fine!” The two of us turned back toward Mama, our smiles once more plastered upon our faces. “I was going to head to the shops early tomorrow anyway, so I’ll grab those.” With a wave of her hand and a rather large yawn, she grabbed a cup from where it was drying on the counter next to our bucket of fresh water and filled it. All the while, tension seemed to once more envelop the space.
Stars, I couldn’t catch a break tonight.
“Listen.” She turned to me, her eyes sad. “Starlight. Heavens.” Oh no, not the childhood nicknames. This was bad then. “Dad and I have to talk with you both about something serious when he gets up.”
“I’m up,” came our father’s deep and strained voice from the hallway behind us that led to the two bedrooms. Rotating, I caught sight of him as he came into the room, the wheels of his chair thudding when he passed the threshold of the kitchen. His jet black hair was a mess of curls atop his head, his deep brown skin sallow from the most recent illness that sought his death.
“Sorry, darling, we didn’t mean to wake you. How are you feeling?” Like always, she met him halfway, her body folding so that her arms could wrap around his neck and her lips could press into his. Their love was something to behold, a beautiful bond that showcased how finding your soulmate could transcend even the hardest of obstacles.
