isharawrites_idzjzy
August 3, 2020
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Vibrations rose from each slam of my hand on the surface of the drum. I moved with practice, my eyes more in front of me than on the instrument itself. Leaves obstruct the full view of the stage from where I was, but not the audience. I searched the crowd, attempting to find my mother once again and hoping she did not leave out of disappointment of boredom. She’s still there, with the smile that takes up her entire face. My aunt was beside her, a camera in her hand. My older cousin, Najah, looked bored, but she always does. She was always kind of mean, but becoming a teenager only made her meaner. On the other side of my mother was my grandmother and great aunt, who look politely invested. My great grandparents, GG and Pop Pop were not present. Pop Pop had recently had a health scare that put him in the hospital and GG was with him, but nearly everyone else was.
On the stage, in the center, was my younger cousin, Ciera. She was a mouse, and I wished to be a mouse as well.
Our roles in the production were dictated by age. Everyone had a part to play. The older kids created the set, painting the colors of the forest for the story of the little mouse. Even though their role in the production was completed prior to opening night, they were told to come and support. They could be heard, in the back, laughing and goofing around. All were soon to be teenagers and therefore soon to be a part of the elite, evil force that I was so terrified of.
Then there were the ones just a bit younger than, around the age of ten, which were the stagehands. Like me, they were dressed in all black. I don’t think the audience could hear them, but I could, ruffling behind the curtains, hushed whispers as they watched from the side and waited for their cues.
And then there was my group, with me being eight at the time, we were the music. On the sides of the stage, so not to take away from the main focus, we did our practiced songs. We drummed into the story of the mouse in the jungle that had something to do with God, as all things did in church camp, though I couldn’t remember what the connection was.
Finally, there were the youngest kids, which included my nearly six-year-old little cousin, Ciera. They told the story, playing the roles of the jungle animals and dressing the part. Ciera played the main role, the mouse, and I found myself wrapped in green vine while watching her in the spotlight. The mouse ears on her head stayed in place. Her face was transformed, the gray and white colors glowed under the spotlight, and the sparkles danced on her skin.
I wondered if my mother was disappointed, like I was, that I had no chance to be on the stage. I wondered what would have happened if my cousin and I were the same age. Would she still get the lead role? Would I find myself to be one of the forgettable animals, like a frog. I pictured my face, painted a bright, lime green, still behind my bright and shining cousin.
Movement in the audience brought my attention back to my family, I watched as my grandmother and great aunt began to excuse themselves, shimmying out of the seats and hastily walking to the door. I looked quickly at the ones who remained, my mother, aunt, and cousin. Najah still looked like she’d rather be anywhere else, but she did also look curiously at my mother and aunt, who were talking hastily to each other.
I looked over at the stage, Ciera was not on it at the time, likely somewhere behind the curtains. Would she notice that two members of our party had left? I looked again at my aunt and mother, who had since gone quiet, looking at the stage. My aunt’s camera was not up, my mother’s smile was not on. Both of them seemed to be looking straight through the wall, as though there were something outside of it that only they could make out.
Had we done something wrong? Had Ciera? Had I? No one else in the audience seemed to be affected by whatever had happened to my family. I imagined invisible forces sucking the life out of them like the dementors in the Harry Potter movie, and their skin turning chalky gray as a result like the people in Halloweentown 2. I missed my cue, the drummers to the right and left going while I’d remained staring out into the audience. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to find the right place, I just moved my hands over the drum, finally coming in with a slam of my hand with a final vibrating sound at the end. I looked out into the audience; my mother didn’t notice.
When we took our final bows, my mother and aunt did not clap much, but instead my aunt took Najah by the wrist and pulled her forward, my mother took the lead. She saw me and motioned for me to join them while my aunt did the same to my cousin. The camp directors stood in the front, saying thanks to the participants and the parents, and, of course, to God. I struggled to get to the end of the stage and looked back for Ciera, who looked confused and small, like the mouse she was.
The car ride was silent. My aunt didn’t put on music like she often did. When I’d asked where my grandmother and great aunt went, they gave me a short, uninformed answer. I pictured my aunt and mother soulless. And then I remembered, just before they’d gone gray, that they had been whispering about something in the audience. There was something they knew that I didn’t.
I decided to ask. “Mom… What’s going on?”
She said nothing at first, and for one moment my heart hurt at the thought that she really was without a soul. But finally, she said, “Not now.”
I felt my face wrinkle up, wondering what the big secret was. I looked to Najah, who had not known at first but I could tell knew since getting in the car. She looked out the window, refusing to look at any of us. I tapped on Ciera’s shoulder; with the booster seat we were the same height. She looked at me with large eyes, her face still a mouse, still sparkling in the sun.
I lifted my chin up and became all business, as I often did when we would play together being that I was older. “There’s a secret,” I said to her. She blinked, long eyelashes tangling. “No one is telling us what it is.”
“I wanna know the secret,” Ciera said, immediately on my side against everyone else. Her eyebrows started to frown up, her gray face wrinkling and she looked to my aunt. “Mommy what’s the secret?” I looked to my aunt, hoping that there was pressure to tell us now that we both knew we weren’t being told something. Najah still just looked out the window. “Mommy!”
“Ciera Shay,” my aunt snapped without turning around. I saw Ciera sink into herself. “Calm down, now, before I stop this car and make you.”
Ciera’s big eyes got wet. I couldn’t help thinking this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. We’d just done our big show, and now we were close to getting in trouble for just asking too much.
Being as clever as I always felt I was, I thought of a plan. “Ciera,” I whispered. “I have an idea.”
“Okay,” she whispered back, much louder than me. I didn’t want anyone to hear in the close confines of the car, so I was careful to speak under my breath.
“If we have a secret, they’ll want to know what it is, and they can know how it feels and then tell us the secret.”
Ciera’s eyes brightened at my brilliance. “What’s our secret?”
I leaned over as much as the seat belt would let me and whispered in her ear, “Pretend I have a secret, I’ll make one up later. Now say it was a good secret.”
When I leaned back, Ciera said loudly, “That’s a good secret!”
I grinned to myself. I didn’t realize it before, when we were in different parts of the church camp, learning different parts of the bible and having different roles in the big show, but this is what was right. Ciera and I were a team, had been for as long as I could remember. It had been wrong to split us up the way they had. I was glad that things were back to the way they were, even if we were upset at being left out.
As we drove, Ciera and I loudly talked all about the big secret we had, waiting for someone’s curiosity to drive them to finally asking us what it was so we could bargain. It didn’t take long, though, to realize nobody cared. We parked outside of a McDonalds and for a second the secret was forgotten as I thought about the steaming, salty fries I so rarely got to have. My mother sliced through my thoughts with a knife.
“We’re not stopping for food, we’re stopping for the bathroom before we keep driving,” she said. Ciera looked at me, face frowning again. I straightened my back.
“I’m gonna find out what the secret is,” I told her as our mothers stepped out of the car.
“You have to promise to tell me what it is,” she said. My mom always told me to never make promises unless I was going to keep them. I knew I’d keep this one, so I nodded.
“Promise.”
It was when I was walking back to the car that I tugged on my mom’s hand. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” She looked at me with the face that said she was getting annoyed. “Please? It’s not fair everyone else knows.”
As I stared at her, I saw her face change. One moment, she was a stone, someone carved her to look the way she did and she had no way of not being that. The next moment, she was soft, and she was sad. She leaned down to me.
“You know how Pop Pop has been sick?” she asked.
I did, I remembered learning what a stroke was the day the ambulance came to his house. I remember crying because Great Aunt EE was, because I thought he was dying. I remember my mom saying it would be okay, and that it couldn’t be that bad because the lights weren’t flashing on the ambulance. I remember going to the hospital he’d been staying at ever since, always seeing him excited about the jell-o.
My mom let out a breath. “Well, Pop Pop isn’t with us anymore.”
Isn’t with us anymore. I’d heard these words before. I’d heard them about Nana and about Papi. I remember hearing it about Papi and only being surprised because I thought he’d go later, since he was the one who wasn’t blind. I remember going to Nana’s house after hearing the words about her, and her house smelling musty and weird, and realizing she’d never give me peaches again, and I’d never get to see what the door in the kitchen led to.
Pop Pop would never go back home. He would never sit next to me on the loud, plastic covered couch. He would never go into his basement with the fish that’s on the wall that sings “Don’t Worry Be Happy” when you push the button. I wondered if Great Aunt EE was crying somewhere.
The next blink that came I was in the car, we were moving, I was staring at my mom’s seat in front of me. I now knew why my mom and aunt were soulless, I was as well.
Ciera tapped on my shoulder. “Do you know the secret?” I thought about lying. I never liked lying, and somehow, I could see on Ciera’s mouse face that she knew that I knew. So, I nodded. “What is it?”
My throat was dry, carved of the same stone my mother’s face had been carved of. “You don’t wanna know.”
I saw the lines form on Ciera’s gray, sparkling face, rage in her eyes. “You promised!”
I looked down at my hands, pressing my teeth together. My heart was jumping up and down on my stomach. I did promise her.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell you.”
I could feel Ciera’s eyes on me, but my eyes were looking everywhere else. They looked across the seat at Najah, who had been staring out the window so long, I wondered if I’d forget what her face looked like. I looked at my aunt, who was staring ahead, driving. I looked at my mom’s seat, try as I might, I couldn’t see her face. I wondered if someone would stop me. No one did.
I decided to say it the way my mother said it to me. “Um, Ciera… Pop Pop isn’t with us anymore.”
I looked over, her face was blank. “What do you mean?”
Not knowing how better to explain it, I thought of the movies where somebody had gone away. “He’s in a better place.” The words spoke for me.
“What does that mean?” Ciera asked. She sounded angry. I couldn’t look at her. I wondered what kind of bubble we were in, what forcefield trapped me with Ciera that meant nobody else in the car could hear us.
I was running out of ways to say it. “Pop Pop…” I said, wracking my brain for a way to say it. “Pop Pop went to heaven, Ciera.”
“What do you mean?” Ciera said, she was shouting. “What does that mean?”
“He’s dead!” Najah yelled, finally turning to us.
I could hear the pop of a forcefield. My aunt’s hand reached back, slapping Najah’s knee with an abrupt, “Najah!”
I could see Najah’s face look angry as she crossed her arms and looked away out the window again. I was sure I’d never see her face again.
“Dead?” Ciera asked. She looked at me, and I looked down.
She was crying. I heard her crying. No one else was. I wondered why I wasn’t, I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt worse.
I found green vines sprouting around me as I realized Ciera was the last to know, and the last of all of us to live in a world where Pop Pop was still around. When I looked at Ciera again, her face was melted. Her eyelashes were long clumps. Her tears were stained gray and white of her previous skin. The mouse ears that were on her head had fallen down. We were so far from the church and from the stage. She was even smaller now that she was no longer a mouse.
I realized there was no one to envy.