The Dark Shore (Atlanteans) (24 page)

“Yes, that’s”—Nina flashed a quick glance at me—“my partner’s apartment. Emiliano. He’s waiting outside.”

“I’ll go check his documentation,” said Mica, stepping out.

Partner? Emiliano? This instantly bothered me.

“Mother, I . . .” Mom hesitated. “I know that Owen is your guest but we were wondering if he could come and stay with us?” She looked hopefully at me. “If that’s okay. I know from our teachings that the Three won’t be here long, and I’d like to make the most of the time.”

Victoria’s face remained inscrutable. “We would need to post guards by your house, given Owen’s importance.”

“Totally fine,” said Mom.

“Then it’s up to Owen,” said Victoria.

I wondered what I wanted. Maybe to go with Mom, and yet at the same time I felt like I needed time to sort this out. There was so much new and crazy in my head that I had this urge to shut my brain down and just let everything settle. And also, why should I just go with her? Just because I’d magically shown up here didn’t mean she got a big reunion out of it.

And yet I found myself saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, then,” said Victoria, “I guess this is another part of the will of the gods.”

“Great, and thank you, Mother.” Mom made a quick motion, moving two fingers from the bridge of her nose, to her lips, then down to tap over her heart.

Victoria nodded. “Owen, I’d like you back here tomorrow morning.”

“Well, there goes all the fun
I
had planned for tonight,” said Seven.

Seven’s comment reminded me: “Where’s Lilly? I want to see how she’s doing.”

“She’s in the infirmary across the plaza,” said Victoria.

“I’m taking Leech over there,” said Seven, “if you want to join.”

I turned to Mom and was almost going to ask for permission, but reminded myself that I didn’t need to do that. “Where should I meet you?” I asked instead.

“There’s a fountain out in the plaza. I’ll wait there.”

“Okay,” I said, and was again held up, wondering what to do. Did I hug my mom for a good-bye, or . . .

Mom seemed to sense the moment, and she started out. “Go do your thing, I’ll see you outside.” She left, and I just stared at the door, almost doubting whether that had really just happened.

“Come on.” Seven punched my shoulder, breaking my trance.

She held Leech’s arm and led us through a series of corridors, then over a stone bridge that connected the temple with the infirmary.

“So that must be awkward,” Seven said to me.

“More than awkward.” I barely knew what to make of it.

“Is she like you remember?” asked Leech.

“Yeah, I mean, I think so. I feel like I really don’t know anything right now.”

We wound up a staircase, then down a long hallway. After all the talk of sacrifice and death, I was glad to see that, like on the
Solara
, this looked like a normal, if primitive hospital.

Lilly was alone in a room. The three of us stopped in the doorway, peering in. The room was dark. I stepped in and saw a fluid bag hanging beside her, and heard her hoarse breathing.

I went to her bed. “Lilly,” I said quietly. There was no reply and I didn’t want to wake her. I rubbed her arm, felt her breathing, and stepped back out to the door. She seemed okay, and safe, not about to be cut open or anything.

“So,” said Seven looking in at her, “she’s got gills. What does that mean—she’s like . . . close to being one of us?”

“There were a bunch of kids who got gills at EdenWest,” I said. “Doesn’t anyone have them here?”

“Just me,” said Seven. She ran her fingers over her neck. I saw the indentations there. “I’m the only one who’s been down to the temple though.”

“Our camp was right on top of a temple,” said Leech. “We were thinking it’s a proximity thing.”

“Makes sense. EdenSouth is a couple kilometers away.” Seven pointed to Lilly with her chin. “So . . . not to ask an awkward question, but . . . are you thinking she’s going to be coming along with us on the journey? I mean, I like a party, and of course some friendly competition”—she gave me a little play punch—“but that’s more of a three-person craft you’ve got, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure we can fit,” I said.

“Lilly’s part of the team,” said Leech.

“Relax, gents, I get it,” said Seven. “I’m just thinking out loud here. . . . I heard that her gills got bad on your trip here, not to mention that someone poisoned her. I guess I’m wondering if it’s best for the mission to have a non-god along. Could be . . . risky?”

I sighed.

“You have to have thought about it,” said Seven. “Right?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, and hoped Seven wouldn’t take it any further.

She didn’t. “Food for thought.” She turned from the door. “Come on Leecher, let’s put you to bed so Seven can still get out and have some goddess fun. Good night, flyboy.”

“See ya.” I took another look at Lilly’s dark form, still hearing Seven’s question and hating that I’d already had that same thought. I tried to push it out of my mind, and headed outside.

The plaza was still pulsing with people and the din of animated conversations. The edges of the vast cobblestoned space were lined with restaurants, the tables all outdoors. Aromas of cooked meats and smoke filled the air. It couldn’t be more different from the closed quiet of Hub at night.

I found Mom by a central fountain lit by torches. She was sitting with a large man. They both stood when I arrived.

“There you are,” said Mom. “This is Emiliano.”

“Hey, Owen,” he said. He was brown skinned and short, with a square face and broad shoulders. He had a bright smile full of white teeth that was no doubt considered attractive and that immediately annoyed me. “It’s amazing to meet you.” He put out his hand. “What a gift to have you arrive here.”

I didn’t want to shake it, but I did. I wasn’t going to be the immature one who couldn’t deal.

“Nina,” said Emiliano, “I’m supposed to meet up with my cousins. I’m sure you guys have catching up to do?”

“Okay,” Mom replied. “Have fun, Emil!”

Emiliano leaned over and they kissed. I looked away, annoyed by this, too, and also thinking,
Emil?
Here was my mother giving shortened nicknames like she was a girl at summer camp. Suddenly I wondered if that’s what all this had been for her, since she’d left the difficulties of her family behind. Had everything just been carefree and fun? But then I felt the opposite, too, like, here she was! My mom! The feelings tugged in opposite directions.

We crossed the plaza, mostly not talking. I had no idea what to say. The more minutes went by, the more unbelievable and yet completely normal this seemed. I was walking with Mom, like we’d never been apart.

“You are looking big and strong,” said Mom.

“I guess” was all I could think to answer.

“You must be hungry,” said Mom. “Want to get something from one of the carts?”

“Sure.”

We stopped at a little metal food cart, where a vendor was carving slices of meat off a leg on a spit and serving it inside soft wraps. “You’ve probably never heard of tapir but you have to try it. It’s delicious.”

“Um,” I said, remembering the Walmart. “Okay.”

Mom paid with some kind of wooden coin, and we moved on through the plaza. With my first bite of the sandwich, the tangy meat reminded me all too much of Gambler’s Falls, but I managed to shake that off and keep eating.

As we walked, some people in the crowd recognized me. There was pointing and whispering, and every now and then people doing that two-finger motion like Mom had done to Victoria.

“You mean a lot to the people,” said Mom.

“I’ve heard,” I said. “It’s hard to get used to.”

“The Epics of the Three are kind of like our creation myth,” said Mom. “It’s the basis for so much of how we live here.”

“You sound like you’re really into it,” I said. I didn’t remember us being particularly religious at Hub. We certainly weren’t after she was gone. Dad and I had never attended any of the churches, and I was pretty sure we never had with Mom either. In Hub, that was average. There were as many people who weren’t religious as were. Here it seemed like believing in Heliad was required.

“I’m not an absolute believer,” said Mom. “I don’t think the lightning rain is actual god fire. But still, I think it’s a beautiful way to live, given the state of the world.”

I didn’t reply, but I did think that made some sense.

“So, how have you been?” Mom asked. “I suppose that’s kind of a silly-sounding question, all things considered.”

I didn’t know what to say. How had I been today? These last two weeks? The last eight years? But I could also tell that she was trying to connect. “Things at Hub were pretty much the same as when you left. Life was just kind of going along, until I went to Camp Eden, and then all this Atlantean stuff happened.”

“Wow,” said Mom. “Well, I’m glad to hear that things at Hub have been okay.”

“I guess,” I said, but then I couldn’t help adding, “It hasn’t really been
okay
. I mean, it’s always a struggle to have anything like a normal life, especially with Dad’s lungs.”

“They’re still bad?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, wondering what she’d expected—that he would just magically get better? “They’re probably worse than when you left. I don’t really remember what they were like back then.”

Mom sighed. “They were bad. I suppose it’s been hard for him.”

Hard for him? I felt like saying,
Duh
. Instead I said, “You mean, raising me on his own?”

“I guess I mean that.”

“I do a lot around the house,” I said.
Stuff a mom should be doing
.

“You’re not the little boy I remember,” said Mom. “I probably should have expected that.”

We were silent as we left the main plaza and started down a quieter street, the cobblestones more uneven. The shops here were closed for the night, bars down across their wooden doors.

I could feel my nerves spinning faster inside me. It was time to ask the question I knew I needed to ask. I finished my sandwich, and then waited another block before I finally did: “Why did you leave?”

Mom stopped. She looked up at the smoke-dampened night sky. “Well . . . I suppose I should have been more ready to answer this question. . . . I just . . .” She sighed. “I was unhappy, Owen. I needed to find out who I was. I needed to find someplace where I felt like I fit.”

My next question was already lined up, almost like I’d been waiting for this moment. Maybe I had. “Was it us?”

“Oh god, no,” she said, except she also looked away. “I wish there was some way to prove to you that it wasn’t your fault at all. I used to look at you, at little you, and think to myself, dammit, Nina, how can you not be happy? He’s so beautiful, he’s so perfect. But it was like I was missing something inside. Not love for you, but . . . happiness for me. And that made me feel like a terrible failure. I felt like if I didn’t find a way to be happy, then it would be worse for you to have me around than to not.”

I wasn’t sure if I thought that made sense. The topic still felt hot, stuffy like the air. “So,” I said, “was it Dad?”

“Not really, no. I mean, he and I weren’t getting along, but I think he was trying, in his own quiet way. We got married young, you know. And then, living at Hub was so hard, so dark and lonely. It was a struggle for me. I just couldn’t . . .” She started to cry. “I couldn’t make myself happy. I used to think I might end up like that girl tonight, up on the altar, just to end the pain . . .” She took a deep breath. “But after some time here, I finally started to feel better. Something about this place, the culture, the people, Emiliano, and the
sun
, I know that sounds silly but, oh, the sun . . . and something about me. I had to grow up. And only then did I feel like I was complete. A real person. That was a huge relief for me.”

That answer felt heavy, like a locked trunk that I was going to have to let sink inside me and then swim down and rummage through. This whole conversation was starting to feel like it was deep underwater, and I was at the mercy of weird pressures and currents, sinking and floating at once, and gill-less, holding my breath, tight.

What she was saying reminded me of how I’d felt when I found Lilly and the CITs, how that world felt so right, like I could suddenly be my true self. Except for the part where Mom had to leave me to find that. “But so,” I said, “once you found that happiness here, why didn’t you . . . tell us? Let us know where you were?”

“Well, I don’t know . . .” She wiped at her tears. “I meant to, but I was also so ashamed. I felt guilty and . . . I thought that since you’d gotten used to being without me, maybe it was better if I stayed gone.”

This was all hurting me and angering me at the same time. I felt like I was on the verge of yelling, and I wondered if maybe I should. But I held back. “We never got used to not having you there, Mom.”

Mom started to cry again. She nodded. “I can see that now.”

She stopped walking. “Here’s our place.”

We were in front of a three-story apartment building. It had cement walls painted aqua and simple wood porches off the front. She started up the steps, but I stayed on the street.