bad blood
I’ve written three thousand words over the past couple of days. Funny how everything comes all at once. I saw a scene unfold while I was on the train a couple of weeks ago, but never bothered to write it down. Then I read a gentle, quiet book and by the time I was done, all these angry, violent scenes started to flow. Nyla’s a character from Ship of Souls; her mother abandoned her as a child so she was raised by her African American father and Japanese American stepmother on a military base in Germany. In this new book, I’m building off a line I heard upon waking up one morning last spring: “Are you sure you’re fully human?”
“What kind of mother just walks out on her kid?”
“You had Cal—and he had his mother.” Graciela screws up her lips but thinks better of disrespecting the dead. “Besides, it’s not like you were a baby or anything. I waited until you were grown.”
“Grown?! I was four.”
“You’ve always been mature for your age. I knew you could handle yourself. You could walk, talk, flush—you didn’t need me anymore.” She wavers then pushes herself on. “Plus…you didn’t show any signs. You were clean then. I couldn’t—I couldn’t risk you…picking anything up from prolonged exposure to me.”
“This shit’s contagious?”
Graciela shakes her head. “Genetic, apparently. But I didn’t know then what I know now. I was trying to do the right thing. And I’m trying to do that now. So listen to me, ok? Just…lay low for a while. And whatever you do—stay above ground.”
“That’s it? Avoid the subway? That’s the best you can do? Something tried to kill me—and my friends.”
“Which is why you need to stay the hell away from them, too. I’ll speak to your father—now’s a good time for a little family vacation, I think.”
“Are you planning to join us?”
“You really don’t get it, do you? I’m trying to keep you safe—and that means staying as far away from me as possible.”
“They’re after you, too?”
Graciela sighs impatiently and tries not to lose her cool. “No, Nyla. They’re not after me. I’m after them.”
I stare at my mother without blinking as an image forms in my mind. “You mean you’re—like, a slayer?”
“God—everything’s a TV show or a comic book to you! I’m not a vampire slayer and I’m not a mutant—and neither are you.”
“What are you, then?” Graciela turns and takes a few steps away from me. “And what am I?”
Sequel’s aren’t easy. This summer was supposed to be my time to finish the sequel to Wish, and instead I’ve started a sequel to Ship of Souls, which hasn’t even been published yet. I’m getting ahead of myself. I have a short story to work on, an interview, and a guest post for another blog. But it’s hard to stop the story once it starts coming. This is the last scene I worked on last night:
“You on the Pill?”
“What?”
“Birth control—you know what that is, right?”
“Of course, I do! Not that it’s any of your business…”
“That’s my blood in your veins—I’m making it my business.”
“I’m not sexually active, alright?”
Graciela finds Keem lingering over by the window. “You will be soon, the way that boy keeps looking at you.”
“He doesn’t decide that—I do.”
Graciela looks at me with something close to admiration. “I’m glad to hear that.” She watches me a moment longer and then asks quietly, “You learn that the hard way?”
I hesitate, then nod and avoid her eyes.
“Did Cal make the kid pay for it?”
I look at my mother. “I did. I split his head open.”
Again Graciela looks at me with a strange kind of pride. She reaches out a hand and flicks my bangs out of my eyes. “That why you went punk? To scare the boys away? Your father must have had a heart attack when you cut your hair. He was always so proud of his little princess.”
“I couldn’t be daddy’s little girl forever. Besides, he’s supposed to love me no matter what.”
“Love’s never unconditional. There are always strings attached.”
“Is that what I was—a string that tied you down?”
Graciela says nothing for a moment. “I thought that if I mixed my blood with your father’s—I could dilute it. I thought it would be ok.” Graciela tries to laugh but can’t. “And look at you now.”
“You wish I’d never been born.”
Graciela ends my pity party before it can even begin. “I never said that!” She glares at me for a long moment before letting go of my wrist. “I just want you to think things through. If Marta’s right and your power really is off the charts…then you can’t afford to reproduce.”
“Why not? What if that’s the answer—making more and more soldiers for the cause. We could build our own army and end it once and for all.”
Graciela makes a sound of contempt. “You sound like your father.”
“I’m just saying there’s strength in numbers. You don’t have to do everything all by yourself.”
“Oh yeah? Well, before you start popping out superbabies think about how you’d feel watching one of your kids die before your eyes. Because it happens, Nyla. It almost happened to me today.”
I stare at the cold food on my plate and quietly admit, “I wasn’t sure you were going to save me.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to. I had to send G**** back into the depths. I just hoped I could banish him and still hold onto you.”
“You hoped?”
Graciela just shrugs and avoids looking at me. “Think about what I said. I’m sure your stepmother could help you get on the Pill without Cal finding out.”
Finally our eyes meet and for just a moment I see the woman my mother used to be. The woman she was before she became a hardened warrior. “If I’d stayed longer, I only would have loved you more. Understand?”
Before I can answer, Graciela walks away and slams her entire tray into the trash.
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