Chapter 3 Diantha
Diantha
“I told you so.” Mom stirs her coffee.
Clockwise. Always clockwise. Her beautiful bleach-blonde waves catch the mid-afternoon light.
Everyone always said we looked alike, but I couldn’t get past the blonde hair and her light green eyes.
But I see now we have the same pointed chin, the same big eyes and even bigger eyebrows.
“I told you if you didn’t practice, you’d lose it. ”
We’re in the Dream Place, in the kitchen where we always meet. She wears the same black dress we buried her in, rosary beads wrapped around her right hand. The crucifix drags along the plastic tablecloth as she stirs.
“Wait.” I shake my head. “You saw that happen?”
She flutters her eyes shut and smirks, lifting her mug off the table. “I saw a little bit of it.”
“Shit.” I push my fingers into my hairline. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Language, Diantha. Please.”
I resist rolling my eyes. “Mom, who were those men? Why were they in Hades House? What the hell are they?”
My mother flashes a displeased smile. “Demons, my love.”
Demons. All those years she spent warning me about fairies and brownies and demons and telepaths, and I’d just laughed her off, called her crazy.
Were they part of the reason why I couldn’t stay decoupled? Or was it really due to lack of practice? I should have asked more questions when she was alive.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. About the demons, about my powers…” I know if I wasn’t here, halfway between life and death, I would be crying. But in the Dream Place, I’m neither fully embodied nor fully spirit. Plus, we only have a few more moments together. I can’t waste any more time.
“It doesn’t matter.” Then, as if she can read my mind, she adds, “We don’t have any more time to waste. You need to focus, baby. You cannot abandon your destiny any longer. I need you to practice.”
Destiny. A word that sinks through my stomach like an anchor launched into the sea.
“Okay…okay, I know.” I’d promised myself, in the final days of her life, that I would come to Echidna, that I would learn everything I could about why my palms and cards had always prophesied that I belong here.
But then I’d let doubt creep back in. I’d stopped reading my mother’s tomes and studying our family lore, and I’d stopped decoupling my spirit from my body. I’d tried to forget the potential University of Echidna held for me.
“Is my body going to be okay?” I need to get back to life. I need to get started.
My mother nods. She pushes a plate of cookies toward me. Simple shortbread cookies dusted with powdered sugar. I know better than to eat them—consuming anything in the Dream Place would strengthen my connection to death and loosen my grip on life.
“Your body is okay—thank the gods. A handsome man found you. How’s that for fate?” She smirks, lifting a cookie to her ruby-red lips. She always loved red lipstick. She owned at least a hundred tubes. I’d kept them all.
I frown at her. “A handsome man?”
She nods. “Italian.”
I laugh. I laugh because I can’t cry. “Mom, I miss you so much.”
“I miss you more,” she promises me, then takes another bite.
Her eyes hold no emotion. This isn’t my mother, not really.
She’s like a holy apparition. I don’t smell her rosewater perfume or the sweet almond oil she used to moisturize her hands.
I can’t reach out and pull her into my arms. Crumbs fall into the air and dematerialize.
“Go back to your house, Diantha. It’s where you belong.
Let that man take care of you tonight, but then push him away.
You have to focus. Can you do that for me? ”
I nod. “I promise.”
She lifts the cookie to her lips for a third time. As it snaps between her teeth, darkness consumes me.