Memories of SIGAL

VEE

Does this woman REALLY think she can lie to me?
Well, at least I let her know I wasn't born yesterday, nor did I become her daughter last week.
She disengaged from the hug without looking at me, no doubt out of guilt for her little lie, then I headed back to my room to get some sleep. On my cabin bed, I closed my eyes, and focused on her again, to see if I could hear her tell anyone anything over the phone, but all I heard aside from her humming was the tangy scrape of paint-laden brushes on canvas.
The fact that I listened to mom's every move might come off as micro-obsessed. I wasn't. It was like I told her: listening to her basically saved my life. "Listen to me. Focus on the sound of my voice," she'd told me, and I, in doing just that, had returned from hovering in the In-Between. Then when those Silverlight berries took effect, amplifying my hearing and bottling in my chest this uncomfortable, sizzling, electric feeling, it was her voice that kept me from tipping over the edge. That was until she got me the headphones. Still, her voice was technically the womb through which I was born into the Mahic world, so I only needed to hear a whisper of it in three miles of random mumblings to remain in focus.
I was drifting off to sleep's sweet paradise about an hour and fifteen minutes later when I thought randomly how unfortunate it was that I couldn't read minds. It would've been a little more useful than this in finding things out about Mom...and this LaMartin character. Oh well...
Drifting...drifting...
The Great Stave playing the Für Elise really slow...
A stretch towards my headphones...
"VEE!"
I practically screeched NO! in my head.
WHY?!
"WHAT'S FOR BREAKFAST?"
"IT'S 5:30! WHAT WOULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT TO EAT?!"
"UM... NOTHING!"
"SO WHY DID YOU...FORGET IT!"
I smashed my head into my pillow.
This woman.

Two days later, it was Saturday again, and time to head to the Preparation Grounds to....well, prepare. Cladding myself in an oversized (and that's saying something) black t-shirt, cargo pants and gold sneakers, I got to thinking...Mom had been closing off. Sudden silences, no Irish music, and she'd been getting lost in thought...more than usual. She never acted like she was hiding something, but she was, somehow. I kept asking if I did anything wrong, but she kept on smiling and saying no. I believed her, only until she got lost in thought again. Something was seriously up.
Well, no time to worry about that now, I mused, striding over to Mom's room. Today's the day I unlock my magic...I did a little Egyptian dance in the doorway before I rested my hand on her doorknob, glad she didn't see it. She'd have tried to dance along.
Anybody, and I mean ANYBODY danced better than she did.
I didn't hear anything from inside, so I knew not to knock; it'd wake her up. Slowly opening the door, I knew she forgot to turn out the lights before she slept, a sign that she was either busy or thinking.
Of course she was asleep. I was relieved for her. She'd had even less of that since the preparations for the Exhibition flew into full swing. (Yes, I said 'even less'. She neither slept very soundly nor very often.) I gave a small smile; this lovely thirty one year old looked like a hurricane tossed her around in her sleep. Thing was...she herself was the hurricane.
I caught myself staring, but honestly did not care.
Her room wouldn't have been a mess if she didn't miraculously rip the sheets off in her sleep...and if she didn't sleep on half the bed, the other half having been piled high with books. Some of them were on the floor now, thanks again to Hurricane Marzelle. I was struck by the room in a strange way, but more than that, I was struck by everything else. By everything else, I meant her. She was gorgeous. Of course she was, in a goofy sort of way, but without being clumsy. Physically Marzelle Origon was cute, grace à the long shiny black hair that curled wildly as a gypsy's, and her small facial features, even with a body on the large side of normal. And beyond that, what made her truly beautiful was... something I could only describe as her essence, her vitality, her...Marzelle-ness. That's the word. Marzelle-ness

I tilted my head and smiled again.
"Now if you're about through staring at me lustfully, you'll say good morning and state your purpose."
"The mirror, when I'm in front of it, provides something well worth staring at. And shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"Please." She sat up straight. "Like you don't know how light I sleep. Besides, I felt watched."

"Ah. I see. Also..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm following you to the Preparation Grounds to...show off how amazing my voice is. I know." She rapid-blinked, full of vanity, then laughed when she saw my facial expression at her statement: the narrowed eyes, scrunched-up nose and twisted smile I gave when she said something as hilariously narcissistic as that. "Also to help you with your magic. A fringe benefit." "No kidding." I let sarcasm drip from my voice like warm cheese from nachos.
Then I was stone certain: something's up. Usually, she'd be like "O..Kay. Wow. Get out," but today, she just smiled and rolled her eyes.

Since she wants to play like she's fine, I'll play like I'm a numbskull, I decided. Two can pretend, after all.
"You quite admire me, I can see. Staring at me like that."
"Actually, I do."
I knew full well that she expected me to snark at her back, so when she froze, blinked twice and drew out "Riiiiiiight," I grinned.
She scurried into the shower, still flustered by my reaction. I stood there, laughing.

Something was wrong.
Grievously wrong.
I mean, I knew that for a while, but...it glared even worse since her agent called. The rhythm of our lives, Mom's and mine, was once a long, unbroken stretch of smoothness, like jazz. Now the smoothness had broken into sharp, discordant, shards. Kinda like rock music.
Worst part was, Mom didn't seem to notice. Perceptive as she was, things tended to slip by her, like my drinking coffee this morning before going to the Grounds. She normally would have caught me; in fact, today, I wanted her to, just to remind me everything was as usual.
No such luck.
I groaned on entering the car.
The interruption of our rhythm was a major threat. I was scared because, you see, in a mind as full of sound as mine, the beat of our existence that the Great Stave had formed was part of my Sanity Maintenance Kit. Take that away, and all that's left is Mom's voice. And she was talking a lot less, which meant something was happening to her... what's going on??
I panicked.
Was she rethinking having me around?
Did I do anything?
Did she speak to my brother?
Did she want to take me back to my biological family?
No...she wouldn't do that...would she?
So what was she hiding?
The mumblings were steadily growing into a roar...then "Life goes on and on and on and on and on and on..."
"AAAAH!" I screeched, burying my head in my hands. "What IS all this?!"
The car suddenly stopped. Did I scream loud enough?
"Babe."
Oh the sweet calmness, the much missed bliss! My mind was back into focus. "Are you okay?"
"I am now. I... just...got worried again. About them coming back." "I told you, I would take on the entire family Alvarez, and have them kill me, Ovidia, before I let them even touch you. Do you understand?"
I nodded, grateful. "But that's not the main problem. Something's up. With you."
I noted the shimmer of her curls in the sun. "I assure you, I'm fine." "We both know that's not true." I said simply.
I waited. I wanted, needed her to assure me I was wrong, or confide in me if I was right. All she did was restart the car.
"Life goes on and on and on and on and on..."
I clasped my headphones onto my head. Not now, creepy song, I thought. I need to sleep before we get there.
Again, no such luck.
"We've arrived."
Yay.
Wait, actually, YAY! I mused when I saw Marcell Kings and Xavia Arnold striding and sashaying respectively towards the car. "Aren't you coming Mom?"
"Of course. Just not yet."
I sighed. "Okay, but we begin in twenty." "I'll be there."
I stepped out.
"MAKE WAY FOR THE RAIJIN QUEEN!" And everyone stopped dead in their tracks to stare.
"Xavia, your point?" I whispered tersely.
"For them to stare, as you can see. Come on, let's give them a show!" She flicked her wrist and lifted her hands into the air. In the morning sky danced fireworks. "Please tell me you're not going along with this..." I half begged Marcell. "I'm not," he assured me, but I kept stepping on the softness of petals all the way to the main hall.
"Don't act like you didn't enjoy the grand entrance, Vee." She smiled.
"I'm not acting. Besides I'm a week behind when it comes to the whole power thing. It would have been more of a show if I had mine." "Maybe," Xavia conceded, but you're getting them today!" "I'm last." "So?" She gave me a nudge, the little drop of sunshine, as we got in.
"This is amazing!" I told her.
"The powers?"
"No, the fact you haven't said 'Holy-"
"HOLY SANDSTORMS!"
I glanced at Marcell. "And..that's over."
"WHO'S THAT?" She indicated my Mom, the tall and plump, curly haired, supremely stylish lady wearing a black "The Wellerman" t-shirt and deep purple jeans with applique shells, anchors and chains. "That's Vee's Mom," the second thing Marcell had said since. "They look NOTHING alike."
Something angry sliced through me. I didn't know why. Then I realised: I had to put up with this fireball who knew absolutely nada about me, and why? Because I didn't want to be the reason my best friend walked away from the person he liked, even though...
Yeah, that.
I glared at him; blamed him. He knew it, that I would rather not relate with Xavia, and he spoke telepathically "Please leave her be. She doesn't know."
I glared until my message was clear: And if it weren't for you, she wouldn't even know my name.
Then I moved to the furthest end of the hall, alone.