Constellations

By Amethyst Turner

If seven 

Random stars

Can make

A legend

Why can't

A few

Random Words

Make us

Legends to

Each other?

XXX

Richard ignored the way Amethyst flinched when he approached. She looked so sweet today, so happy, wrapped in her afghan blanket, talking to her stuffed animals. Richard smiled, leaning on the bureau. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," said Amethyst. She pulled her animals closer, eyes flitting toward the window.

Richard could feel a draught of cold air leaking in. "Are you cold?" he asked.

She nodded.

What a pointless question. Of course she was cold. He already knew that, but could he do anything about it? No. Well, maybe he could get her a new blanket, something heavy and soft. He looked down at the stuffed animals again. "Hey, where'd you get this?" he asked, picking up a little stuffed mink.

"Nowhere," Aimee muttered. She tried to take it from him, eyes shining with wobbling tears.

"Things like that don't come out of thin air," Richard pressed. "Who gave this to you? Was it Owl? Has she been coming back here?"

Amethyst shook her head. She shrank back against the wall as if she could escape the conversation through it.

Richard grabbed her by the wrist. "You listen to me," he said, feeling his heartbeat pick up. "You are not to leave this house, do you understand me? You are not to open that door or this window. You are not going to let anyone in here and you are not going to let anyone take you out of here, okay? And if I find out you have, there are going to be serious consequences, do you hear me? Are you listening?"

Amethyst, trembling, let out a quiet squeak.

"Answer me!" Richard roared.

"Yes," she said, the word coming out on the swelling crest of a sob. "I understand."

XXX

Amethyst wasn't in the garden during the days after Christmas. Daniel figured it must be because he'd told her he would be too busy to visit. Maybe it was too cold out, as well. Either way, each day when he ventured into the garden with his backpack full of muffins or cookies or little gifts he had gotten for Christmas, he inevitably turned back disappointed.

He kept on coming, though. In his heart, he believed that she would be back just as soon as Christmas break was over.

XXX

Two days after the new year begun, Owl was waiting on the curb in front of Amethyst's bus stop. She sat with her arms around herself, quaking in the angry January air. Puffs of solid breath floated from her mouth like smoke. She clenched her hands together in her mittens and tried not to let her teeth chatter.

The bus came, screeching to a halt just yards short of where Owl was sitting. Her heartbeat surged wildly upwards, overjoyed at the prospect of seeing her little girl again. Owl stood up and put a smile on her face, waiting.

She hadn't seen Amethyst since Christmas. And what a wonderful Christmas they'd had! Amaya had pretended at first that she didn't really care who Amethyst was or what she was doing in their house, but eventually, she broke and let herself warm to the little girl. They spent the day baking and singing and opening gifts. Amethyst spent the afternoon curled up in Owl's bed, flipping through her new picture books. She burrowed under the quilt with such pleasure, humming with delight at the way in trapped her heat inside. Owl asked if she wanted to have it, but Aimee was too afraid her father would notice.

Even on Christmas when Owl had only been away for a matter of weeks, the girl looked so pale, so thin. She'd eaten only one slice of Amaya's Christmas cake before she threw up from the richness of it. Her stomach couldn't handle it anymore.

Owl hoped someone was feeding her at school.

But, as the children filed off the bus, brushing past Owl with the stink of weed and adolescence, no little girl was among them. She didn't catch sight of Amethyst's golden head glimmering in the sunlight.

She stared across the street at the Turner house as the bus departed away from her, carrying with it her hopes that everything would be okay.

XXX

On the day when the screaming started, Owl was knocking at the door.

She knocked and knocked and yelled through the door. Aimee thought it almost sounded like she was crying from the way she gasped for breath before every word. Again and again, Amethyst looked through the window to catch sight of the edge of her, trembling with cold and conviction. She didn't open the door.

Now, she had all the toys from Christmas trapped in the bureau drawer where she used to sleep. She didn't want Daddy to see them and get angry again. She could still feel his hand around her wrist like a handcuff, his sharp, sour breath on her face and his harsh words in her ears. Ever since Owl left she'd been hearing more and more yelling and crying from upstairs. She could hear the impact of his fists on her mother's face, and when the woman at last fell to the floor, begging for mercy, it shook the house like an earthquake.

Amethyst didn't want that to happen to her, especially over something as silly as a mink.

She only played with those toys when her father was out of the house and would be for hours. Then, she spread them all out in the living room and made them talk to each other and make friends. Sometimes, they sang songs together or read books.

But even in these good hours of the day, something new haunted her: the presence of a beer can tab hidden carefully inside one of the Camel cigarette boxes each night. When she had seen it in the trash while she was eating, nearly ripped clean off the beer can, she hadn't wanted it but she'd picked it up anyway.

Now, when she felt too sad to do anything else, she sat on her bed against the bureau and ran the sharp edge of the tab over her palm. Usually, she did it too lightly the first time, too afraid to draw blood. But in the second time, then the third, she dug deeper and deeper until she could see herself in the blood held in her palm.

But that day, the tab was tucked safely inside the cigarette box when the screaming began.

Amethyst knew it was her mother because the screams from above had become quite a familiar sound to her. But these were different: they weren't screams of pain, of fear, but of confusion and terror that shook Amethyst to her core. Aimee looked through the window once again. She saw Owl sigh and begin to move down the steps.

She dashed from the bed and yanked the door open. The December air hit her like a big, angry hand and the wind snatched her voice away as she screamed, "Wait! Owl, come back!"

Owl turned back toward her, eyes radiant with joy. "Amethyst!"

"Something's wrong," she told Owl. "Something's wrong and I don't know what."

Owl's face faded into a frown. "Okay," she said. "Let's go see."

XXX

Melissa didn't feel like she could properly enjoy the rest of her students with Amethyst missing.

Everything they did seemed just a little wrong since it wasn't what Amethyst would do. She missed braiding the girl's hair and holding her close at the end of the day before she went to catch the bus. She missed listening to her murmur words to herself while she read. And more than anything else, she missed feeling that small hand slide into hers when she felt sad, that high voice saying, "It's going to be okay."

She felt betrayed in a way she supposed was unfair. Amethyst had no obligation to come to school, did she? Technically, she wasn't even supposed to. So why couldn't Melissa just let her go?

Melissa had no way of contacting the Turner family. She didn't want to ask Ashley where the girl lived and risk raising her sister's suspicions.

So she watched the kids play and let her mind slip farther and farther into the bogs of worry with each passing hour.

XXX

Hannah yanked a knit hat over Mari's head, unsure whether it actually belonged to her oldest daughter. More likely judging from the size, it was Lucy's, but Hannah couldn't be bothered to replace the hat and find another one. "Just wrap your scarf around your ears," she ordered Mari.

Jude pulled on the back of her skirt.

"What, Jude?" The baby had begun to cry. Hannah called out, "Just a moment, Robbie! I'll be right there," although the child couldn't possibly appreciate the words coming from her mouth and continued to scream anyway.

Jude pulled her skirt again. "M-- D-- Ma -- Daddy -- Mom," he said. The stuttering was typical of Jude, especially over things like names and pronouns. He could never keep straight who was who or what was what. "My water's empty."

"Oh, give me a moment, would you?" Hannah demanded.

On the couch, Lucy's head lolled over the arm while she made long, cross-eyed faces at the baby. "Mom, look," she called. She curved her tongue so that it formed a little loop.

"That's nice," said Hannah. "Put on your shoes, please." She lifted the baby out of the bassinet. He fussed a little, kicking his feet with the vigor of a drowning child. Hannah held him to her chest, bouncing a little. Robbie leaned down toward her chest, unsteady little head whipping all around his neck. "Oh, oh," she said. "Don't do that! Not right now, Mommy will feed you later."

"Mom, where'd you put my new boots?" Mari demanded, materializing beside her.

"Oh, I don't know. Look by the door."

Hannah rocked the baby in her arms and wondered if this visit was really worth it, anyway.

XXX

Pain retreated and attacked like a small army, impaling her from all sides only to extract the spears and begin again. Her stomach felt like it was ripping open and her thighs ached with this constant pulse of fire that chased up and down her legs, reaching for her spine. Her shoulders and her back sent sharp cries to her brain each time she tried to move.

Libby clutched her pillow behind her, gritting her teeth. Screams kept coming, the force of them only inflicting more pain on her strained stomach. Her muscles clenched and caught fire. Buckets of sweat poured over her face, blurring her vision and soaking her clothes.

She could feel a slow trickle of water from between her legs, a tear and a leak. This is supposed to happen, she told herself. This is normal. But it wasn't, and she knew that. The pain in her body was hot and ripping, not a good ache, but a warning

Libby wrapped her arms around her stomach, grimacing with effort as though she could hold the baby in simply by willing it to stay with her.

XXX

The first month after you left 
I drank and jerked off till I slept.
I went to work when I had to 
Then came home.
I fed the dog when I had to
I fed myself when I had to. 
I went out of town when I had to
And then came home. 

-Distance by Andrew Jackson Jihad