Page 39 of The Sun and the Moon
Cadence
A sliver of morning light prods me to wake just after dawn.
Sydney sleeps on her side, her cheek pressed into the cool white bed linens.
Her hair falls over her naked shoulder, streaming across her exposed breast. Her pink nipple, soft and supple, looks delicious enough to lick.
I’m overcome with a flood of memory from last night, desperate for more of her, but also deeply aware of my morning breath and my full bladder.
I slide out of the bed, running to the bathroom before she wakes up.
As soon as I pad across the floor, Chicken’s head pops up from his bed.
“Hold on, hold on,” I whisper. “Let me pee and then I’ll take you out.”
I’m not convinced he knows what I’m saying considering Sydney told me that he’s hard of hearing and my low tone is probably outside his range. I close the door behind me, making fast use of the toilet. My breath can wait, I guess. I’d hate for him to have an accident before I can get him outside.
When I walk back out of the bathroom, I rummage in the suitcase for sweats, throwing them on, braless and underwear-less, then slipping my feet into my boots. I grab Chicken’s leash from the dresser by the door. He’s at my heels immediately.
“You have a full bladder, too.” I bend down to hook him up with the leash, rubbing his ears a few times before we scoot out the door.
It’s a clear, crisp morning. The courtyard shows the remnants of yesterday’s revelers, with abandoned glasses of wine and marshmallow-roasting sticks stacked haphazardly around the firepits.
Chicken sniffs at the edge of a shrub that lines the sidewalk, his little black nose twitching as if suspicious of the scent.
I am grateful for this moment alone with Chicken, even though I feel assured he isn’t paying any attention to me now that his world has opened up to a host of new smells. Sydney loves this little creature, and anything she loves, I want to know better, because I want to know her better.
Last night with Sydney was more than I hoped it would be—more feelings, more longing, more heat.
The closeness wasn’t just about sex; at least it didn’t feel that way to me.
I am self-aware enough to know that I’m not readily in touch with my emotions, but being around her makes me feel a release like a dam is opening inside my chest. I could feel more, it could be safe to let my guard down.
I want to let her in all the way, to every hidden, secret place.
“There you are” comes my mother’s voice.
My stomach leaps, feeling caught in the act even though I’m an adult and also I’m not doing anything wrong.
Chicken jumps, his tiny paws all lifting off the ground at once.
I turn around to see she’s approaching, dressed in a matching silky top-and-pants set that looks like elevated loungewear.
As she nears, I see that the bright pattern is actually a tarot card print.
The deck cascades, with the major and minor arcana overlapping each other in brightly dramatic jewel tones.
“There you are,” I say, unable to pull my gaze from her outfit. Searching, maybe, for the Ten of Cups, though I can’t admit that out loud.
She preens, spinning around to reveal that the back of her shirt has one large tarot card printed on top. The Magician, number one in the major arcana and one of her personal favorites.
“Custom-made,” she says. “Gifted by a designer I read for once.” She wants me to ask her the rest of the story, so clearly I can’t.
“This is from REI,” I say, yanking on the hem of my sweatshirt. “Bought and paid for.” Chicken tugs at the leash. Her eyes scan down, landing on him.
“Sydney is still sleeping,” I reply to her unasked question. I start to move, beholden to the whim of a six-pound dog. She follows, easing into stride as Chicken chases a scent across the courtyard.
“He likes you,” she says. “Me he mostly tolerates.”
“ Mostly tolerates, or…?” I jest. It’s a slippery slope, bantering with my mother. It’s too easy for her to take advantage of my unguarded walls when I’m trying to match her wit.
“All right, he despises me.” She smiles, unashamed. “But I’m not much of an animal person.”
“To put it lightly.” I snort, thinking back to the time I rescued a litter of kittens from the canyon, likely after being dumped there by some hideous human. She let me keep them in the garage for one night before taking them to the shelter.
“You’re thinking about those kittens,” she says with a snarl. “And I stand by the decision.” She says that second part in a tone that is almost defiant.
“As if I would expect anything less.” I cut her a look, but she’s looking at Chicken again. We’ve stopped at another bush, where he’s busy marking up a storm.
“I’ve tried with him, though. For Rick. He just loves the little menace.” She’s watching as Chicken now moves on to smell a patch of perennials planted in the flower bed at the edge of the courtyard. “Do you think it’s something about me?”
I have to bite back a guffaw. “It’s definitely personal,” I say, lips twitching, throat wobbly. “And you should take it that way.”
Her brow hooks. She likes this game, whatever it is, but she’s surprised I’m willing to play.
“Oh, I do, no question. But Rick is in denial.”
She talks so casually about Rick, the man she’s marrying, the man she met just a few months ago.
She talks of doing things for him, caring about what he cares about—Chicken, his friends, his daughter, and his magic tricks.
She talks like someone who understands selflessness.
Without ever saying it explicitly, Moira has set out to turn over a whole new leaf.
She’ll self-edit the parts that don’t fit from the past, and no one around here will be the wiser.
She’s a psychic by trade, but this is her superpower.
The spike of pain that unleashes in my chest makes me want to run all the way back to Acadia.
To hide in the mountains, in crags on cliffsides, in a cave she would never dare to venture inside.
Where she won’t see me. Where I won’t have to think about how her existence has eclipsed every part of my own and the only way to forge my own autonomy was to leave her world behind.
“Cadence.” She says my name, the name she gave me, a name I love, and it yanks me out of my spinning thoughts. Our eyes meet. “I have to go to the winery in a couple of hours to finalize a few details before the engagement brunch tomorrow. Would you like to come along?”
Me. Alone with my mother. On purpose.
Me, alone with my mother, finally.