Wander Dust

Sixteen candles sparkle in front of me. Guests around the restaurant join in singing Happy Birthday with our waiter. As the end of the song climbs into a finale, I reposition myself in my chair, grab the table’s edge and lean in, preparing to inhale. Right before I blow, the air around me stirs, suffocating the flames. Each light sputters and then vanishes into darkness.

Shocked, I jerk back in my seat, staring at the cake. No wish?

Everyone breaks into rowdy applause. Perplexed, I glance around at the unfamiliar smiles and cheering faces. I realize, no one but me noticed the flames extinguishing on their own.

This has to be a bad omen.

There’s no way my dad, Ray, noticed the candles because he’s too busy flirting with Maddi, his über-annoying girlfriend. He probably hadn’t even bothered to sing, and I hadn’t bothered to check. With Maddi constantly at his side, he’s had even less time for me.

I want to be jealous of Maddi, but mostly she just annoys me with her plastic looks and superficial personality. The first conversation the woman ever initiated with me was about lip gloss. Then she blew me away with her follow-up discussion about her collection of yard gnomes.

Maddi lifts her hand and traces her long, fluorescent pink fingernail down Ray’s shoulder. Charmed by her attention, he giggles with his entire body. The movement causes his glasses to slip from his nose. He pushes the wire rims back up with a single finger. Then he spins and grabs her bronze hand, planting a sloppy kiss on the back.

When he’s around Maddi, his rigid facade softens to an irritating mush. But when we’re alone, I only see his reserved side, the steel-layered version; the one that only notices me when I do something unacceptable—which in his eyes, is almost all the time.

Disgusted, I look away from them and shake my head, hoping to dislodge the image of adult foreplay. The inappropriateness of this whole scenario isn’t something he’s caught on to quite yet.

Returning to my isolation, I block them out and focus my attention on my cake. Slowly, I pluck off each candle, one by one, and lick the sugary globs of frosting off the ends.

For the final candle, I drag the end through the cream cheese icing, revealing the red velvet cake underneath. When I flip the end of the candle toward my mouth, the wick’s flame suddenly flickers back to life. The small blaze burns my hand.

Startled, I drop it. It lands in my lap and I jump up, pushing my seat away from the table. The burning candle tumbles off my skirt and drops to the floor. I stomp on the small flame, smothering it beneath my shoe.

My heart pounds in my chest at the excitement, but I’m not hurt, just stunned. Without another thought, I pick up the pile of candles on my plate and drop them into my glass of water—just in case. The water splashes out of the glass, over the tabletop, and onto my skirt.

When I look down at myself, I’m not only soaked, but I find a large singe mark on my hem. Great.

Ray is too enthralled with Maddi’s flirting to have noticed my small dramatic event. If the flames had spread, engulfing me, would he have noticed? Of course not. If I’d set the fire myself, the answer would be yes. But in that event, I would have received a lengthy lecture, followed by yet another grounding. I huff in annoyance.

I’m going to the ladies’ room, I announce, leaning onto the table.

Neither responds. Neither flickers the slightest glance in my direction. I’m invisible to them. I roll my eyes and walk away.

I weave through the tightly packed tables of the restaurant. Farther away, in another room, dance music blares. Behind flowing white curtains, beautiful, scantily dressed people dance around a bar, drinks clenched in their hands. This is Miami Beach after all. I’ve gotten used to everyone looking like models: the men, the women, all perfect, all tall. My small frame shrinks, just standing in their proximity.

Through the undulating crowd, I lock eyes with a woman. Her cropped, jet-black hair frames her pale face, which instantly differentiates her among the tanned bodies. Her red lips contort into a frightening smile that sends uneasy chills racing down my spine.

I scowl and look away.

I push through the crowd and into a long, empty hall. I think I’m alone, but the sound of high heels clicks the tile behind me. This noise puts me on edge, and I turn to look, but no one is there. Strangely, the hall is empty.

I shove open the door marked Damas and walk in. The creaky door swings shut, instantly muffling the dance music.

At the sink, I run water over a paper towel and then repeatedly dab the wet brown blob to my skirt, trying to wipe away the blackened scorch mark. But the burned spot only crumbles into ash under my touch, leaving a gaping hole in the fabric. My favorite skirt is ruined.

Irritated, I launch the balled-up paper towel into a wastebasket. Of course, I miss. After I retrieve it from the floor and try again with better success, I turn my attention to a mirror. Two loose strands of hair have escaped my bobby pin. One strand is dyed purple. Not surprisingly, Ray hasn’t noticed. I wonder when he will and how long he will ground me when he does. At least, eventually, it will make him see me.

The bathroom door crashes open, knocking me out of my personal pity party. Two girls, drunk, fall into the room laughing. They hold each other up as they wobble across the room and smash into a stall.

Deciding nothing more can be done with my skirt, I turn to leave. The lady with red lips stands, guarding the exit. She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a curious expression.

Even though she makes me nervous, I don’t look away. I know that it’s a sign of weakness, and I’m not weak. At least, I pretend not to be. So I stare back, giving her the expression of defiance I normally reserve for Ray.

Under the flickering lights, her black patent leather jumpsuit shines. It covers everything but her shoulders and long arms. She drops her hands to her sides and steps forward aggressively as though she might hurt me.

Panicked, I step back, trip over the trash can, and stumble into the wall. I look away to catch myself, but when I look forward again, she’s gone, completely disappeared.

Confused, I spin in a circle looking for her, but only the two drunken girls remain. They giggle in their closed stall. One bangs against the dividers, and drops her clutch on the floor. A hand appears and scoops up the purse, and they continue laughing.

Where is she? Am I crazy?

I run for the door and shove it open. On the other side, the music and chaos hit me again. I wind my way back to my table, nudging past dancing models, all the while nervously looking over my shoulder for the Lady in Black, but she never reappears.

Maddi might as well be sitting on Ray’s lap when I return. She kisses his ear and flips his dirty-blond hair, combing it over his bald spot with her fingers. Then she rubs his chest, pawing him like a piece of meat.

I throw myself back into my chair, wishing my friend Beth were here. At least she would have distracted me from Ray and Maddi’s grope-fest.

She’s back! Ray exclaims from across the table, gesturing toward me.

You’re back. I force a smile.

Sera, did I ever tell you about my collection of holiday hats for Mr. Whiskers, Maddi asks in her high-pitched, baby voice.

Yes, I believe you have, I reply. A few hundred times.

This doesn’t stop her from detaching from Ray and pulling her massive, sparkling handbag from the floor. She rummages through the contents, piling the entire inventory of a pharmacy on the dinner table. Finally, a rhinestone-encrusted phone appears in her hand. Her pink claws scratch at the glass buttons, searching for a photo of her cat.

Look how cute! She holds up her phone, wiggling it around, making it impossible to focus on the photo of the costumed animal. An orange blur is all I can make out.

Nice, I say through gritted teeth.

My gaze falls to the cake. They cut it without me, and a large portion is now missing. My lips turn down. Across the table, Maddi turns and feeds Ray a small chunk. A puff of icing sticks to his lips. She playfully kisses it off and they giggle, noses touching.

Please, someone, make this night end! My fingers grip the sides of my chair. I want to lash out. I look for the cake candles, this time seriously, halfway, sorta, contemplating setting something on fire. The tablecloth? Myself? Anything that will get me out of here will do.

The thought is quickly replaced with another—disbelief.

The candles submerged in my ice water glow, blazing with flames. I lean in and squint to focus on them because I can’t believe my eyes. Fire flickers from their wicks under water. Fire under water! Smoke breaks through the water’s surface and rises above our table, coiling gracefully through the air.

My eyes quickly scan the room to see if anyone else notices. That’s when I spot her again—the Lady in Black. She sits perched on a bar stool, watching me. She tosses back her head, laughing as though she has something to do with the inexplicable flames. I blink a few times to make sure I really see her. Five blinks later and she’s still there. Staring.

Who is she? And who does she think she is? I grimace. It’s as though she’s trying to scare me. Test me. Annoy me. What bravado I have kicks in, and I intensify the confrontation with an equally menacing stare.

One sculpted eyebrow lifts. The Lady in Black seems intrigued by my response. She slides off her bar stool and saunters toward me. Immediately, the crowd parts away from her, dancing out of her evil path.

When her onyx eyes lock on mine, a vile sensation overcomes me. Golden flames erupt within her eyes, instantaneously igniting matching, excruciating flames within in my own mind. Our eyes, our minds are now somehow bolted together, and I don’t know how it’s possible. When the fire intensifies, throbbing, burning, and racing through my thoughts, I want to hurl my body into the nearby fountain to extinguish the fire, just like I did with the candles. But I’m mysteriously paralyzed—frozen in hell.

The flames sear, crackle, and torment until they’ve reached what they’ve come for. A vague notion tells me they’re intended to obtain information. A secret. But what it is or if the Lady in Black will find it, I can’t tell.

Sparking blazes provoke my memories further, asking them to dance to life, and I try to scream. Help me! But my internal emotions do not mirror my face, which is smooth and lifeless. Inches away, Ray and Maddi sit flirting. They’re utterly ignorant to my suffering. I realize I’m on fire, impossibly burning from the inside out, but Ray still doesn’t notice.

The Lady in Black pauses and cocks her head. Her red lips roll into a malicious smile.

I fight harder to untangle myself from her snare, wrestling for freedom. I want to get away before the fire and pain devour me, but when I mentally tug away from her, the strain leaves me nauseous and faint. Black dots multiply until they consume my sight. My body temperature plummets and, finally, I black out.

Chapter 2: Transfixed

When I wake, I’m on the floor. The person standing over me is our waiter—I think. He’s kind of blurry, and my head throbs with a headache. His manicured eyebrows pinch together as his mouth moves, but I can’t decipher his words. I rub my temples with my fingertips, massaging them until the sounds return.

A moment later, Ray and Maddi stand over me. Maddi snaps a picture of me with her phone. The flash temporarily blinds me, confusing me further. I pray that she won’t post the photo on the Internet, but I know she already has.

Ray looks concerned. Is this what it takes to get his attention? He grabs my arm and pulls me from the floor. He and the waiter drag me onto a chair.

What happened? Ray asks. My face reflects back from his glasses, and I look as confused as I feel. What happened, Seraphina?

What happened? I repeat, but more for myself as I try to remember how I blacked out and landed on the floor.

The Lady in Black. The lady! Launching forward to stand, I scan the restaurant, every crevice, every shadow, but she’s gone. Vanished.

What lady? Ray jolts, his eyes scour the faces, trying to understand.

Calm down, Raymond. Maddi giggles, and smoothes down the shirt on his shoulders.

Drained, I collapse back to my seat. The waiter returns with a new glass of water and offers it to me. I drink it, all of it. The hydration seems to subdue my headache. It no longer pounds out of control. When he refills my glass, I chug again.

Ray’s already forgotten about the lady, but I haven’t. Her flaming black eyes are burned into my brain. I wince, recalling the searing pain.

Are you all right? Ray puts an awkward hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t normally show affection toward me, so this is a breakthrough. And all this time I thought being difficult was the way to get his attention. Now I know I just have to pass out every once in a while. This revelation should make me chuckle a little, but it doesn’t because my relationship with him is a sad one. I don’t hate him for it. It’s just the way things are.

I’m okay. My voice sounds uncertain, even to my own ears. I exhale, trying to calm my mind. The Lady in Black is not real. What happened, didn’t happen. These are words I want to believe, but I’m still not positive.

Ray hovers for a few moments longer, but Maddi has already returned to her glass of wine on the other side of the table. She sucks icing from each of her long fingernails. Gross. I close my eyes, unable to watch.

I think this will make you feel better. Through squinted eyes, I see Ray walk back to Maddi. A small birthday bag appears from her handbag. He grabs it and places it on the table in front of me.

Polka-dotted tissue paper sprouts from the top of a hot pink gift bag. I know Maddi wrapped it because the closest Ray has ever come to wrapping something is leaving it in the bag he originally brought it home in.

Even still, Ray is clearly excited for me to open the bag. I can see it in his eyes. It must be the booze that’s relaxing him—the booze and Maddi.

Thanks, Dad. I called him Ray to his face once, and he grounded me.

It’s something special for your sixteenth birthday. He steps back and places a hand on Maddi’s shoulder.

What I want is keys to a car. I perk up slightly, but only because the bag is about the right size, and I’ve been dreaming about it for months.

My hand plunges in, and I fish around the tissue paper. My fingers find what they expect—cold metal. I pull the object out as fast as possible. All the protective tissue flutters to the floor.

Uh—thanks. My gaze drops to the gift, hiding my intense disappointment.

It’s not just any bracelet, Ray says with a wave of his hand. It belonged to your mother. He sounds pleased with himself. He sits back down and leans onto the table, gesturing toward my gift.

Oh! My forehead creases as I scrutinize the bracelet closer. Although unexpected, I’m thrilled to have something, anything, of Mom’s.

Thanks, Dad—it’s perfect. I feel slightly guilty for hoping for anything else. I didn’t know there was anything left of Mom’s.

Well, your Aunt Mona borrowed it from her sometime before…before…you know. Anyway, she sent it to me last week, so you would have it for your birthday.

I’m caught off guard with Ray’s token—a great gift—not a car, but something better. Sitting in silence for several moments, I study the bracelet, wondering about its previous owner, a person I never had the opportunity to know. Sighing, I tuck the newly cherished prize into the side pocket of my tote where it will be safe; a place where I can steal glances at it without anyone noticing.

My mind barely has time to enjoy the thought of the family heirloom before Maddi brings me back to the issue at hand. Her mouth takes off, lips racing, chatting with Ray about my fainting drama. This marathon continues all night until we exit the restaurant and wait for the valet to bring our car around.

We pile into the car and drive away. Maddi’s finally on to a new subject, but I’m not. She’s sufficiently worked me further into a paranoid frenzy. Now all I can think about is the reason for my blackout: the Lady in Black. The fire in her eyes will not leave my thoughts.

Resting my forehead against the car’s window, I attempt to focus my attention elsewhere. I watch the colorful light display from the roof of the restaurant reflect off the night sky. The neon colors mesmerize me as they switch from blue and green to hot pink and orange, and back again.

Quaint little cafés and gelaterias dot the walkways through Miami Beach. The lush, tropical landscape around them sparkles with a million white twinkling lights. Racing down Alton Road, everything streams by us in a glorious golden light display. But the lights only remind me of the fire and the Lady in Black.

Her image continues to haunt me when we get home.

Instead of sleeping, I’ve nestled myself into the corner of my window seat. I position my body in such a way that I can see both my bedroom door and the front yard, just in case she decides to visit again.

The chair railing jabs through my pillow and into my back. The cushion beneath me constantly slides off the seat and onto the floor. In the middle of the night, I manage to accidentally rip down a curtain. It’s wound tightly around my body like a blanket when I wake early in the morning. My face smashes against the window, drool drips down the glass, and I’m exhausted, stiff with cramps.

Through sleepy eyes, the bed across the room looks more reasonable than before, even though I’ll have to give up my lookout. I take one quick glance out the front window, searching for the Lady in Black before I jump into bed and under the covers. When my head hits the pillow, my muscles instantly relax. Exhausted, I close my eyes, and ever so slowly, I drift to sleep.

•

A slow ache fills my lungs, and I cough several times. When I attempt to breathe again, the tainted air, thick with smoke, forces me to cough once again. My eyes pop open. Black clouds hover in angry swirls above. The snapping and popping of flames crackle nearby. My heart stops and immediately races in one short second. I vault from my bed, realizing our house is on fire.

Darting for the door, my only thought is that I must save Ray. He’s all I have. When I grab the metal doorknob, its searing heat instantly singes my palm. I recoil, hissing, and let out a scream. That’s when a malicious laugh ricochets through my room. When I turn to find its owner, the only thing out of the ordinary is my window, which is now wide open. Smoke races toward it, funneling out into the night sky.

Coughs shudder through my lungs, and I make a run for the window. Doubling over, I heave my body over the sill, retching until my lungs clear, and I breathe fresh air.

When I glance across my front yard, the Lady in Black stands with her head thrown back, sending a wicked laugh through the air. A slight whimper escapes my lips. I know she’s come back, to finally finish me off.

Sera! Behind me, Ray screams my name.

Knock, knock, knock.

Sera, are you awake?

I suck in an agonizing breath of air and lurch forward. In shock, I grab my bedsheets. They slip between my grasping fingers. My pajama shirt sticks to my drenched back, and sweat-soaked hair coils around my neck. My heart races as though my dream continues.

It was just a dream.

The purple walls of my bedroom come into view after I blink several times. The room is bright with sunlight, not flames. Through a blurry sideways glance, I see Ray standing at my door.

Bad dream? he asks.

Breathless, I look around, confirming what I know has happened. I’ve dreamed about the Lady in Black.

You were screaming in your sleep, Ray explains, and leans on the door frame.

Was I?

Do you remember why? He adjusts his stance and tucks the Sunday newspaper under his arm.

No, I mumble, even though I do. There’s no sense in alarming him. I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. My bare toes skim the carpet.

All right. Well, I’m getting ready to run to work for a few hours. What do you have planned for the day?

Just hanging around.

Sure you’re okay? He raises an eyebrow.

Yeah, sure. I look over my shoulder and smile, hoping to dismiss his concerns. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m delusional, and the Lady in Black never really existed.

Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours. He turns to walk away, but comes back. Oh, I forgot. You’ve got some mail downstairs on the kitchen table—from yesterday.

’Kay. I nod.

Ray taps the newspaper to the wall a few times as a gesture of good-bye and turns to walk away. His footsteps disappear down the stairs. He opens the front door and leaves.

Yawning, I stretch my arms high above my head, lengthening my muscles and tensing my hands into fists.

Ow! I yank my hand back down to my eyes. A circular burn mark, red and raw, the same one from my dream, covers my palm. I squint, holding my hand up in disbelief. I gently glide a fingertip over the skin to make sure it’s really there. The burn suddenly fades into a healthy pink, completely disappearing in seconds. I poke at the skin, thinking it will still hurt. But it doesn’t because the burn mark is gone.

Outside, Ray’s car door slams shut.

For some reason I decide I need to talk to him about this, show him my hand, and explain that I need psychiatric help. So I jump up from bed, rush down the hall, the stairs, and finally into the entry hall. By the time I burst through the front door, Ray is driving away. He looks over, honks his horn, and waves goodbye.

Wait! I yell, but he keeps driving.

I exhale with a moan, telling myself I’m not sure what I would have told him anyway. The conversation doesn’t play well in my head. By the way, Dad, I’m completely insane and see things that aren’t there. Specifically, a lady in black, combustible birthday candles, and now burn marks on my hand.

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