Embers Part Two
Tina and Lyla Ashby were enjoying the pool and each other. Mid-june, when the air itself is full of promise.
It was a beautiful day, bright and
optimistic.
Tina was watching her little
girl play in their pool, the sun
glinting off her tight curls, splashing , pretending she was a mermaid, and
she smiled to herself. She liked looking
at Lyla when she didn’t know she could be seen, getting to look into her world.
And she was so heart-breakingly beautiful, her daughter, her features so
unusual. Skin the color of copper, hair the exact shade of rich red clay in the
earth. Eyes like a tiger’s, a deep gold. When they first brought her home,
Tina’s father looked at her and said it looked like they’d rolled her in cinnamon. He’d called
her that ever since, his little cinnamon bun. She loved him unconditionally and
fiercely, the way only grandparents can be loved.
Tina sometimes felt that Lyla was
more lovely a girl than she and Peter could ever have created on their own, by
the force of their collective genetics. She seemed beyond that, more than the
sum of her parts. Tina had so often wondered who it was who made her this child
and where they came from. Whose DNA coiled like a secret in Lyla’s cells? Who
wrote the complex book of instructions that built her daughter, this
one-of-a-kind masterpiece? It was like owning a beautiful painting
with no signature. It pained her
deeply.
But
then, Lyla would say “melk” instead of “milk” just like Pete. Or she
would crawl into Tina’s lap and settle
into the soft nook of her shoulder, the one that seemed built for her. And in those
moments, Lyla was theirs entirely. In
those moments, Tina just looked at the painting; she didn’t search for a name
hidden in the corner. In those moments, she didn’t need to know.
“Momma, can I have some lemonade?”
Lyla, dripping, looked up at her.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
She grabbed a towel off of the
chaise lounge by the pool and bundled Lyla up in it. She filled her a plastic cup from the pitcher on
the table and when it dribbled on her
chin, she wiped it for her.
She was so distracted by this task
that she didn’t even notice the red mark on her daughter’s left hand. It was so small, after all. But that night,
after Pete got home from work, he decided that he would bathe Lyla. Have some quality time. She could make him
cappuccinos out of the bubbles and serve them to him in the blue sippy cup Tina
left in the bathroom for her to play with, tell him stories. They could be together. Lyla was still young enough that her naked
body was an innocent thing, and he wasn;t uncomfortable with it yet. She was
barely more than a baby.
She was laughing at the soapy beard
he had put on her chin, making faces. He made some back. Added a tower of
bubbles to her head as he shampooed it. It was such an average night. So
comfortable.
He made a monkey face and wiggled
his fingers at her. She imitated him, and that’s when he saw it. In the center
of her palm, a burn. It was so oddly
shaped he did a double take—the white, irritated skin that must have been
burned formed a perfect triangle.
“Honey, did you touch something
hot? Does that hurt?”
Lyla looked at him with a complete
lack of recognition.
“What, daddy?”
“That,on your hand.” He pointed.
“Oh! No. That’s my superhero arrow.”
“Where did it come from? Your
superhero arrow?”
He imagined some creep burning his
daughter’s soft flesh and he felt angry, so very angry. How could Tina and he
not have seen it? How long had it been there?
“It just came. I was at school
sitting with Gracie and Ms. Leonard gave us popsicles for a special treat
because it was the last day, and I had strawberry and Gracie had green, and it
was so fun, but then I Joey pushed me
and I cried.” That was just the
day before, he thought with relief.
“But where did the superhero arrow
come from?”
“I said, Daddy. I was sitting with
Gracie. It was the best day ever until Joey pushed me. But before that it ws
awesome. I was so happy. I felt super
happy so I got a superhero arrow. “
He sighed, perplexed.
“Did it hurt?”
“No. Not like when Joey pushed me.
That hurt. We were playing tag and he pushed me because he’s mean.”
“That is mean. What did it feel
like when you got it?”
“It was like when you sit by the
fireplace, super warm and good. Daddy, I’m cold. Can you dry me off now
please?”
He nodded, picked her up in her
hooded ducky towel. Drained the tub and rubbed the towel down Lyla’s arms and
in her hair, all without saying a word.
Probably, she had touched the stove and didn’t
remember, or didn’t know that’s where the mark came from. That seemed
far-fetched, but Lyla had no other explanation. He tried to forget it, and Tina
told him not to worry about it, it would probably go away in a day or two. But when he tucked Lyla in and turned off the
light, her hand lay open on the coverlet, and he could have sworn the triangle
glowed.
