The Mayfair Moon

  “What are you doing here?” I said. “Scared the crap out of me!”

  Alex was slow to answer, or maybe I was just so scatterbrained that I absently refused to let her get a word in.

  “Seriously,” I went on, “what are you doing back here?”

  “Am I not welcome?”

  Alex opened the refrigerator and began drinking straight out of the orange juice carton.

  Only after she finished it off did I answer her.

  “Well, after what you’ve put Beverlee and Uncle Carl through, I’m not so sure anymore.”

  Suddenly, Alex looked dismayed. She paced the kitchen floor a few times and finally sat down at the bar. I watched her as she played with the ends of her fingertips, head lowered, quiet and clearly poignant. I knew then I had to drop the mad act with her and become her loving sister again. I sat down on the empty stool next to her. “Alex,” I said, “what’s wrong? Look, I was just messing with you; Beverlee and Uncle Carl will let you come back, I know they will.”

  Alex sighed heavily and looked over at me.

  “That’s good to know,” she said, “and I know I screwed up big-time, but I’ll talk to them.”

  “Good,” I said, smiling, “then that’s settled. I’m so glad you’re home.” I went to hug her, but something about her demeanor stopped me and also stripped the happiness from my face.

  “That’s not the only reason I came here,” said Alex.

  I looked at her probingly.

  “I have some bad news and it isn’t about me.”

  I waited impatiently, but at the same time I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.

  “Julia's dead.”

  I think the world stopped moving for a second, at least my world did. When a person hears news like that, it can play tricks on the mind. What did she say? Did I hear her right? Seriously, is this some cruel joke? Death? I had forgotten all about its existence. No...It can’t be true.

  After an extremely long pause I said, “...How?”

  “She got really sick,” Alex began, “and refused to go to the hospital. She just died. Her dad found her. It was awful.”

  To speak was an effort for me. I couldn’t see anything in front of me either; just blurs of memorable faces and random objects. “What kind of sickness?” I said.

  “Not sure. The flu, pneumonia; I don’t know. The coroner picked her body up early this morning.”

  Hearing that Julia had died was enough; I didn’t really want to know about the coroner and that whole dismal process. But it hit me then; Isaac and Zia had been sick recently, too. Could Julia have died from the same illness? I was panicking inside all over again.

  “Have you been sick?” I said, worriedly. “You don’t think you have it, do you?”

  “No,” she answered. “I feel great.”

  It was odd how she said that. In a time like this, one does not usually feel great, or nice, or anything above okay. I was having a hard time reading her.

  I was supposed to call Isaac if Alex ever came home, but so far, I found no reason to. Alex was being civil, definitely more herself without Ashe and the rest of them around. I sensed no sarcasm in her tone, no threatening attitude.

  My sister wanted to come home. She had finally admitted to herself that she made a huge mistake. Maybe Julia’s death helped her to see it, but whatever it was, my sister was seeking forgiveness and change and I could find nothing wrong with that.

  My cell phone almost vibrated right off the counter. Isaac’s name displayed on the Caller I.D.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Alex, and I waited until I was outside on the front porch before I answered.

  “I slept late,” he said on the other end. “Should’ve left my phone on, but I’m so used to turning it off at night before I go to bed.”

  “It’s alright,” I said. “So, what’s up?”

  Our conversation was awkward before it began. Unlike Isaac, I wasn’t a good liar and it was difficult for me to talk to him with the whole guilt-thing hanging over my head.

  “Not much,” he said, “Zia and I wanted to stop by later on, if you’re up to it.”

  “Ummm, I don’t know if I have time today,” I said, nearly stuttering. “I think Beverlee and Uncle Carl wanted me to go somewhere with them tonight and right now...I’m still doing stuff around the house.”

  I paused for a moment and said, “Did—.” Julia never left my thoughts and I had started to tell Isaac what happened, but caught myself just in time. He would want to know how I knew about it and that was a lie I knew I could not come up with successfully on such short notice. I would use the rest of the day between spending time with Alex to figure out how I would go about the horrible news of my ex friend. Besides, I had many more questions to ask Alex about Julia and the Vargas family and everything in-between.

  I hated this so much I wanted to just spill it and tell Isaac that Alex was home. The only thing I wanted more than spending time with him was having my sister back. You never really expect to have to challenge the two best things ever. People are usually lucky just to get one.

  “Okay,” he said with a slightly leery pause, “then I’ll just talk to you tomorrow then—is everything alright over there?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said, faking a smile in my voice. “I’m just exhausted from all the cleaning.”

  I was confident he believed me. I think I was more worried about Isaac thinking I didn’t want to see him than I was worried about him finding out that Alex was in the house.

  After hanging up, I went back inside to find Alex in the den, kicked back with her feet on the coffee table. She had not one, but three large glasses of iced tea lined in a perfect row next to her feet. A bag of chips sat next to her on the couch.

  If Alex was going to win back the respect of Beverlee and Uncle Carl, she was going to need a lot of work.

  I had less than five hours to help her.

  “Alex,” I said approaching, “you know Beverlee doesn’t even let Uncle Carl put his feet on the coffee table.”

  She looked at me, smirked and then slid her feet onto the floor. A few seconds later and she was gulping down one glass of tea without taking a breath.

  I sat next to her.

  “Thirsty?”

  The empty glass pinged against the coffee table as she set it down.

  “Definitely.”

  I expected more of an answer and so I waited in case she had more to say.

  “So,” I went on, “what made you decide to come home?”

  “I missed my little sister.” The chip bag rattled as she dug around inside it.

  Okay, this was ridiculous and I was already on the verge of saying something to Alex I might regret. It was hard to take her seriously with how her attitude flip-flopped from promising to impolite from one second to the next. She just needs time, I thought. At least she’s home and making an effort—can’t expect a miracle.

  “What about your boyfriend?” I said as I reached into the chip bag too.

  “Ashe is awesome,” she answered. “You two should start over and get to know each other.”

  The news that she and Ashe were still together wilted all my hopes about her reasons for coming home. Even if she had said something more like how they were fighting and might break up, I could’ve worked with that. But ‘awesome’ and anything about me giving him another chance was like being punched in the stomach.

  Still, I held my tongue.

  Alex continued with a mouth full of bright orange. “He was even the one who brought it up, about starting over with you and getting to know you and stuff.” She stopped long enough to swallow. “I told him I’d talk to you, but not to expect anything.”

  Yeah, the sun would extinguish before that happened. I moved around unnervingly on the couch.

  “But really, sis,” she said finally with eye contact and no food in her mouth, “I missed you. No guy can come between blood and I’m really sorry for letting it even just a little.”

&
nbsp; I was screaming inside. A little?

  “It’s alright,” I said calmly, “and I missed you too.”

  We sat there for several long and silent seconds, but I was the only one that seemed bothered by it. Alex was eating away and gulping down more tea, her gaze fixed across the room, probably on nothing in particular. I wondered what she was seeing in her thoughts, whose faces were looking back at her. Somehow I got the feeling none of them were truly mine.

  “Are you going to go to school?” I said.

  Alex laughed. “Coming home is good deed enough,” she said. “I won’t be going to school, that’s for sure.”

  “Why not? You graduate this year.”

  Alex sprung off the couch and went back into the kitchen. “It’s just not for me, Dria. I’d rather just get a job.”

  I heard the refrigerator door open and the tea pitcher slide off the top rack.

  “Hard to get a decent job if you’re a drop-out,” I said from the living room.

  “Oh well,” she said, “it’s not like I want to be a psychiatrist or anything.”

  “You need a psychiatrist,” I mumbled under my breath.

  Alex came back into the living room with a glass of water this time. “And you don’t need a diploma to be an actress or a model—I think I could do either one.”

  Wow. Rude, inconsiderate and now conceited, too.

  “Yeah, I guess you could do that....”

  “Enough about me,” Alex said, “What’s with you and that Mayfair guy?”

  Something told me this was a risky topic, but I ignored it. It was nice that Alex wanted to know about me. I had started to wonder if she cared at all.

  I brought my feet up onto the couch, my legs bent at the knees.

  “I know you’d like Isaac,” I said with a smile I couldn’t contain. “I’ve never met anyone like him.”

  “Have you slept with him yet?”

  I think I stopped blinking. “No....”

  “Good,” Alex said, “and don’t because that wouldn’t be too smart.”

  I stood from the couch and looked down upon her with a tight, angry jaw. “That’s really not your business,” I said harshly, “but you could be a little less blunt...” I was tired of this and went toward the stairs. “You know what?” I said looking back, “I’m going to take a shower. Beverlee usually gets home around five and Uncle Carl around five-thirty. I’ll be up in my room if you decide you really want to talk to me.”

  I left Alex sitting there.

  My shower was much longer than usual and I made it a point to spend more time brushing my teeth, combing out my hair and washing my face so I could avoid Alex. I kept telling myself that she just needed time and that progress wouldn’t happen as quickly as I wanted it to. It was a dream to see Alex home. As much as I hated it though, I had to accept that she would probably never be the sweet, caring Alexandra Dawson she used to be and that I was going to have to adjust.

  Excuses. That’s what they were. In my heart something ominous lingered, but like every other obvious warning, I ignored it too.

  Beverlee was not as welcoming as I was when I first saw Alex. It seemed she was more in tune with the warnings I so recklessly disregarded, but she didn’t kick Alex out.

  I listened from the top of the stairs to Alex apologize and explain how she had made some bad decisions and such. It all sounded fake to me, so I know Beverlee probably wasn’t buying it. But being the kindhearted person that Beverlee was, she retained a calm and accepting attitude. Uncle Carl reacted the same way as Beverlee when he made it home from work.

  Trying to show Alex that she was welcome home and that people here loved her, Beverlee made a huge dinner and asked that we all eat together at the table. It went as well as it could, considering. I had been holding my breath the entire time, just waiting for Alex to say or do something to completely ruin the evening. But it turned out that Alex’s weird obsession with water, tea, milk, orange juice and even V8, was the biggest concern.

  “Alexandra,” said Uncle Carl, “maybe we should set you a doctor’s appointment.”

  “I agree,” said Beverlee, “you could have Diabetes.”

  Alex’s brows wrinkled and she moved her fork around in her peas. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she said. “No need to waste money on a doctor.”

  “It wouldn’t be a waste,” said Uncle Carl, more verbal than I had heard him in a while. “We’ll take you anyway just to play it safe.”

  Alex shrugged. “Whatever.”

  By the time dinner was over, there was nothing left in the kitchen to drink except water from the tap and a few beers Uncle Carl kept hidden in the crisper behind the shredded cheese.

  “We’re going to see the late showing of A Secret Soldier,” said Beverlee, “Want to come?”

  “Nah, go ahead,” Alex said from the couch in the den.

  It would have been nice if she had turned around to see Beverlee and Uncle Carl, but she just waved her hand, dismissing them. I thought it would be good for all of us to go out, but since Alex clearly was not interested, I knew I should stay home too.

  I didn’t trust her alone in the house.

  I was finally beginning to listen to those warnings I had been ignoring, though still not enough to call Isaac.

  Upstairs in my room, I sat at my desk surfing the net. Like my extra lengthy time in the bathroom earlier in the day, I did whatever I could to keep busy and out of Alex’s sight. Just having her in the house made me immensely uncomfortable. I started to wonder if that was why Beverlee and Uncle Carl decided to see a movie. They had never gone out like that before since we moved in.

  After checking my email and new uploads on deviantART, I ran out of things to do. There wasn’t anything to clean that was for sure. I thought about calling Isaac; I wanted to call him more than anything, but I worried Alex would waltz into my room and give herself away while he was on the other end of the phone.

  But then something just clicked in mind.

  “What am I doing?” I said aloud. “I can’t let her do this to me.” I was a prisoner in my own home all over again. Hiding out in my room, afraid to venture too far out into the open—she pushed me too far this time.

  I practically flew off the chair and swung open the bedroom door, rushing out of the room with retribution in my steps. Telling her exactly what I thought of her was long overdue. I passed Uncle Carl and Beverlee’s open room, feeling ashamed that someone with the same blood as me would treat them so badly. Pressing on to the end of the hall, I barely stopped to watch my footing as I glided down the carpeted steps.

  But when I got to the end and stepped onto the hardwood floor, I froze.

  Alex stood at the bar with her back to me, her petite shoulders hunched over the countertop so unnaturally that I could hardly make out where her neck started and her back began. Her elbows peeked out from the sides, moving furiously back and forth as if she were eating something ravenously with her hands. I glimpsed a meat packaging tray and ripped Saran-wrap hanging over its edges. Blood dripped from the bar and oozed over the side and onto the floor in a red, slimy mess. Frightening, grunts reverberated from Alex’s chest.

  Against everything my instincts were telling me, I crept up further from behind to get a better view. Blood smeared the side of her face and dripped down her wrists. The sound of raw meat stretching and ripping was stomach turning as she shredded a raw roast with her teeth.

  My fingers found my lips and I felt like I was going to vomit. “My God....” I gasped, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

  Alex’s bloody, ravenous face swung around to see me. Her eyes were black like marbles, her teeth...her face....Something was very wrong with this, something so much more than Alex standing there eating raw meat.

  My cell phone. My hand jerked from my mouth and went to my pocket, but I left my phone upstairs on the bed. I began to back my way toward the front door.

  “Stop,” Alex demanded. “You have to help me.”

  I
was screaming inside. The sound of her voice was not...it was not human. It was familiar. Demonic.

  Running for the door, I almost made it when I felt my body lift into the air and I was sent soaring through the room. I flew past the lamp, clipping it with my head and I crashed into the wall; pictures of family came falling down and around me. Alex stood over me, her black eyes wider and more deadly. Her breathing was rapid. I could see her chest rising and falling so fast, so desperate that I thought her heart would stop beating any second and kill her in an instant. I started crawling past her, my palms moving over picture frames and broken glass, but I didn’t get far.

  Alex grabbed the front of my shirt and lifted me off my feet. I heard the fabric ripping and the weight of my body dropped slightly, but Alex gripped tighter to hold me in place. I hovered inches from the floor that I so desperately wanted to touch. I couldn’t breathe and I was choking. Black and orange flashes of light attacked my vision.

  I began to cry. “Alex,” I managed to say, “Stop. P-Please. Alex!”

  She dropped me.

  I gasped and choked for air until it found my lungs again.

  Alex gripped her head suddenly with both hands and screamed out. Her cries pierced my ears so intensely that it made me cry harder. I choked on my tears, feeling my sinuses and the back of my throat relentlessly burn.

  Her flesh began stretching over her face and neck and arms, as if she were growing too fast inside for the flesh to keep up. Long, black gnarled hair grew from her skin. Her head tilted back as her face began to grow outward; a snout penetrating through her skull. Alex roared. It felt like the whole house shook around me. Her body grew taller, the hair longer, her feet had become deformed, her long legs, hind-like and grotesque.

  She drew her clawed hands behind her, lifted her chin and howled.

  I lost it.

  A part of me could still see her and everything in my view, but my senses were disconnected from it all. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. I tried desperately to jump out of my skin, out of this restrained comatose state, but I couldn’t do that either.

  Only when I heard yet another howl and the sound of the large window in the den shatter, did I come out of that coma.