Safe in the Black Sand

18

Unlit houses line our path as Dad and I walk the dark streets home. Katu heads toward our house like he knows right where it is. Dad and I follow, neither of us talkative. There's too much and nothing to say.

My car is at home, in the driveway, not parked on Ms. Jakintsu's street where we left it. We have really gone back in time, which I suppose means we never went to Ms. Jakintsu's house at all. Or at least we will never need to go. Yet the old woman's cat remains. A glitch in the magic? A token to prove we weren't dreaming?

This is why Dad said to avoid thinking chronologically. It complicates things. All I know is many things have happened over what has felt like the longest day of my life. The exact sequence of the happenings is not so important—just that they all happened. This must be how Dad feels every day of his life, and why he always feels overwhelmed.

Katu struts into our kitchen as Dad opens the door. I head upstairs to check on Mom, who is sound asleep. She won't get a call from the hospital tonight telling her that her daughter is in critical condition—though that did also happen, maybe. But it happened in another timeline, in another world exactly like this one but one disconnected from Mom's memory, connected only to mine and Dad's—a marble we can hopefully let roll into a far corner and abandon to darkness and dust.

In this alternate timeline, in this happier version of the world, Angelica got to leave the black sand. She swapped Ms. Jakintsu's beach for a few broken ribs, some minor cuts and bruises, and a hearty dose of humiliation. Not bad knowing what could have been.

            Dad goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. I walk in, stand behind him, and talk to his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror.

            "I'm sorry I ever doubted you," I say. I wait for him to respond, but he keeps brushing. "I'm still in shock about everything."

            He swishes and spits out a mouthful of toothpaste. "How did you say Angelica chose her name?" he asks, off topic. "Something about a mix of roots?"

"Yeah. From Ms. Jakintsu's garden."

"Funny," he says. "I really don't remember. Are you sure Angelica didn't make that up?"

            Dad walks past me and down the hall to the bedroom he shares with Mom. Before walking in, he turns to me. "Go take care of your sister. If you need me and your mother to come to the hospital, just call. We'll be here. Otherwise, we'll see you soon."

            He enters his bedroom and closes the door.

Something soft rubs up against my feet, giving me a jump. Katu, ogling me with those bewitching emeralds, meows once then heads downstairs. I follow him to the door.

            "Ready to leave?"

            He meows again and I let him out. He walks to the car at the base of the driveway, then sits, turns to me, and meows once more. He wants a ride home. 

            But it's still last night. Technically Ms. Jakintsu hasn't met me yet. But that's absurd. She can't not know me while I still have her cat. Anyway, Ms. Jakintsu deserves to know that everything worked out with Angelica. And I need to find out the deal she brokered with Gaueko—the price paid for saving Angelica's life. How much sooner will Dad have to die so that his daughter could have another chance to live? There's time for a pitstop at her house before I go meet Angelica at the hospital.

I occupy the driver's seat and Katu jumps into my lap, purring. I drive down our street, take a left, and head past the closed markets toward the woods. Leaf-blown roads lie paved and vacant. I recall the moonlit sneering faces of Angelica's attackers in the cemetery. Those vicious, angry men are still out there, free. They could be anyone.  

Katu curls up in my lap as I turn onto a street full of potholes and Victorians. I stop in front of the big yellow house sitting up on the grassy incline behind the hedge. Everything is like it was this morning—faded paint chipping and curling, mossy shingles sinking into the old roof, shutters blocking tall windows.

But one thing has changed. Near the sidewalk in front of the hedge in plain sight is a sign: FOR SALE. No realtor, no phone number. 

I pull up to the curb. When I open the door to get out, Katu springs from my lap and takes off in a sprint down the dark street, away from Ms. Jakintsu's house.

"Wait!" I call out in a strained half yell, conscious of the late hour.

I run after him, stopping when the bulky ball of orange fur disappears into the darkness.

Out of breath, I look back upon the big yellow house where Dad and I will never need to spend the day recalling memories of Angelica and plotting her rescue. Ms. Jakintsu isn't waiting for us in a wood-paneled living room complete with chandelier and fireplace. My eyes will never see that bright ceramic turkey. My mouth will never taste those mussels. The container of black sand will never be opened.

None of it will happen. Because it doesn't need to happen. Because it already did.