Page 163 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
Could this be the last thing Ma did before she died?
Did she use her final breaths to protect Desdemona? A girl I’m trying tokill?
Am I going against Ma’s dying wish?
Isa steps back, shaking her head as she runs a hand over her month. The two stare at each other, Ma’s lower lip quivering.
“Willow,” Isa sighs, her voice muffled, her hand still covering her mouth. Her head continues to shake. “Ineedyou.”
Ma bites her lower lip to stop the quivering. The image is a mirror. I never realized that habit of mine came from her.
I want to know all the ways I carry her.
“My dearest friend,” Ma chokes, yet her eyes glow as she looks at Isa. “The light of my life.” She smiles. “You saved me once. I owe it to save you, too.”
Isa takes a step forward, picking up Ma’s hands. “Being near will save me!” Isa pleads. “I can’t lose both you and Freyr. It cuts too deep—”
The image breaks off. My mom disappears.
I open my eyes to the suite, more confused than ever.
Ma?
Where did you go?
I look up, seeing Calista and remembering: it was all a memory.
“Show me more,” I beg, breathless.
Only then do I realize the red lines in the whites of Calista’s eyes. Her strain.
“I can’t.” Calista rubs her eyes closed. “It’s too much.”
Ma has something to do with this—with Desdemona, the Memorium, and Isa. She went back to save Isa, to save Desdemona, right before she was killed.
And I left Desdemona in the ballroom to die.
I broke my ma’s last living will.
I wonder if Pa was right when he said I could never do what Ma has done. If I’m playing with forces far beyond my comprehension and control.
If Ma protected Isa and Desdemona, there was areason.
I stand, turning to the door. “We have to go back to the ballroom.”
Calista reaches for the stone. “I have to—”
“I need you with me,” I say.
The truth is I only needsomeonewith me. Someone else to be forced to feel so I don’t crumble beneath my own weight.
But Calista tilts her head as she looks at me, her gaze lingering longer than it should. Tears prickle in her red-rimmedeyes. I feel it—an unspoken truth, something neither of us would ever say out loud.
We are the only real connection either of us has left in our lives.
And in this moment, I realize maybe I do need her.
Before either of us can voice it, Calista huffs, “Fine,” as she picks up the Memorium.
