Page 94 of Lunar Desires
Mum. Not Juliet…
Her words alleviated some of the tension inside me. Just like that, as if she’d kissed my forehead and told me it’d be okay.
I didn’t have to lose myself. My blood might stir these violent urges, but they were a weapon, to be infused into the good fight. They didn’t have to destroy me or turn me into a monster.
I can still be me…
She’d smoothed the road a little for me. As long as I held onto myself, never allowing myself to slip into Uncle Jonathon territory, I’d be okay.
Never. I’d never be like him.
“Thank you…Mum…” I said, gazing up at the chandelier.
The glass teardrops glistened, winking back at me. I smiled, liking the idea of her sending me a message through the light fixture.
“Who are you talking to?”
Isaac stood in the doorway in expensive, white silk pajamas, leaning against the doorframe. Complete with bedhead and a yawn.
“What are you doing up?” I countered.
He yawned again. “Couldn’t sleep.” He sauntered over, taking a pew beside me on the loveseat.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yep. You?”
I offered him the diary. “I think you should read this.”
He took it. “Mickey Mouse?”
“It’s Mum’s diary.” I inhaled sharply. “Oh…”
“Mum? As in Juliet?”
I touched the base of my throat, shocked by myself. “Y-yeah…”
He gave me a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “It’s fine to call her that, you know? She is our mum.”
I realized I didn’t know much about Isaac’s family. I knew he had an older brother who was an architect, and his parents divided their time between Los Angeles and Cheshire. Not much else. He kept them hidden, always dodging the subject.
I guess in time he’d talk about them one day. Learning we’d been adopted wasn’t easily swallowed or processed. But I always made sure to let him know I was a safe space for him. Always. And I would be for Preston, too. Whenever we found him.
Isaac read the diary. When he reached the end of it, he closed it, his forehead creased in a frown. “Fuck.”
“I know.” I put an arm around him.
He rested his head on my shoulder. “That was…hard.”
I sniffled, his gentle tone triggering the waterworks again. “I’m going to call my mum tomorrow. Arrange a dinner with her.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll ask her about Dad. About what happened.”
God, the thought of it brought on a wave of anxiety. She’d blow her top for sure, but I had to know the truth about what happened to him.
Correction:Weneeded to know.
