Page 83 of The Sun and the Moon
“So how do y’all know Madame Moira?” I ask. If I don’t ask, I don’t doubt it will occur to my mother later and I’ll be cornered.
Kit leaps into the story I already know, animatedly explaining in great detail how she and Julia reconnected at a wedding and fell madly in love, realizing the Twin Flames prediction. But my attention is firmly on Moira as she eats up the praise, confirming to me that shedidinvite them to her party for this reason.
She is still the star of the show.
The shuttle pulls up outside just as Kit finishes and I am stammering through my reaction, trying not to stick my foot in my mouth.
“Enjoy the rest of today,” Moira says as we walk away. “The party will hopefully be unforgettable.”
Unforgettable.
Engagement parties aren’t unforgettable.
But weddings are.
?We climb into the shuttle, and even though it’s empty, Moira doesn’t put a seat between us.
I fight the urge to move, forcing myself to focus on the concept of a path forward.
But I’m thinking about Lola’s theory that the engagement party is actually a surprise wedding, and it’s making it really hard to give my mother the benefit of the doubt.
I can imagine Moira doing that for the spectacle, lying to close friends and her daughter just for the plot and nothing more. Butit’s hard to believe Rick wouldn’t tell Sydney. Even if she would be thrilled for him, I don’t think she would be thrilled about him lying.
I am not an expert on her yet, but from what I have learned of her so far, she seems like someone who wears the truth on her sleeve—our lies this week notwithstanding. She seems openhearted. And she really does seem to adore her dad.
“Do you ever think about it?” Moira’s voice cuts though my mental chatter.
“Think about what?” I ask, annoyed already even though I don’t know what she’s referring to.
“Your soulmate prediction,” she says. I don’t know why it would surprise me that she’d bring that up right after coming face-to-face with one of her success stories. She wants to get a rise out of me, because that was always her way to prod me to open up.
Piss me off and the walls come down.
“What about it?”
“Meeting Kit and Julia doesn’t make you wonder, not even a little bit?”
“I’ve met dozens of your so-called successes, Mom, and never once have I entertained the idea that you should get credit for how I may or may not stumble upon the person I want to spend my life with.”
“So you think there could be someone out there you’d want that with?” This question throws me off guard. I feel my face contort and am immediately aggravated that I can’t hide it from her.
“Of course I want someone like that,” I say, sighing.
“A soulmate?” she presses. She’s trying to steer the conversation. I don’t have to let her.
“Is Rick your soulmate?” I ask, crossing my arms to close mybody off from her. Doesn’t mean she can’t read me like a book, but at least it makes me feel in control. She smiles, looking away from me, out the window, as if seeing him reflected in the glass.
“Rick is the closest I’ll ever get,” she says simply.
“What does that mean?” It almost sounds like she’s taking accountability for her shitty personality and how it cuts her off from parts of existence she might otherwise have access to. But no, that can’t be.
She inhales, nudging me with her shoulder in a playful way that grinds my gears. I lean away from the contact, but she presses on.
“My life, it’s not easy for most people to understand.” She fiddles absently with the zipper on her purse. “And men—even harder for them than just people.” A snort of laughter escapes my lips, and I hate myself for it. God, I really suck at this detached thing. “I can be aloof and manipulative, qualities that you have repeatedly made clear are hard to be around.”
“Understatement,” I grunt, but the tension in my arms loosens.
“I can’t say I know how to be any other way.” She sounds exhausted, and for the first time in a very long time, I let myself look at her, see her. The tension in her jaw, the creases around her eyes, the way her hands are always moving. Restless, touching her hair, pinching a crease in her pant leg. For a flicker of a moment, the light touches the top of her head, illuminating the tiniest hint of gray.
