SHE LAY on a special spot on the roof, facing the night-sky, her
eyes resting on the pale moon. It was a narrow slit of light with
subtle edges. It still looked sharp beneath a thin cloud cover. Like
a veiled dagger.
This was her niche-sanctuary, her little space in the universe. She
would repair here when she was troubled. Usually when she thought
about her mom and when she'll come back, where the hell was she. She
would search the skies for answers. What was troubling her now was
how her father stormed out of the house. Or was it he was driven away?
She recalled everything anyway, the pointed fingers, the exchange
of glaring eyes, the shouts.
The shouts, most of all. Her howcouldyouleaveMAforthatWHORE and his
imBEGGINGyoutounderstandPLEASE. And her shesNOTDEADandyouKNOWit crashing
against his YoureNOTalittlegirlANYMORE!
There were whispers too, she now recalls. She just kept ignoring
them. "Please understand hija. It's been years. I just want to
be happy. Your mother's never returning..."
ShutUP!
"I'm going for fresh air young lady..." And he took the
car. His fingers fumbled as he unhooked the car keys. She saw his
tears but she ignored them too. She went up for her own fresh air.
The moon was a narrow slit in the sky tonight. It seemed to her that
like a torn fingernail of some long-dead deity. She would always muse
that way, in terms of decay. Tomorrow night, she will not see the
moon. She would only see the stars that she ignores tonight. Tomorrow,
she would think of those stars as the dandruff of that same deity
who left his fingernail. Or cosmic insects feeding upon the heavenly
corpse of the god. Or just plainly what was left of everything that
he was, remnants of everything that he ruled over.
But that's for tomorrow night, when she will lay in that same spot
with the same clothes on. Only she'll be wearing bleeding wrists too.
That's for tomorrow night after the afternoon and the call about the
car wreck.
Tonight, there's only a dead god's fingernail.
