Izan and Mist

Chapter 2 (Mist): Calm Your Spirit

My parents lived on the commune that I'd grown up on. There were about twenty-five families that made up the community, so we all knew each other extremely well and there were no secrets among us. About half of all of the children had stayed on the commune and the rest of us had moved away. It was an idyllic way to grow up, a very back-to-basics way of living. We were a self-sufficient community and my father was one of the farmers, so I'd grown up plowing, planting, and harvesting right along with my father. My mother made candles, hand creams, soaps and shampoos from goat's milk, beeswax, honey and herbs that she grew. She and another woman were the commune's apiarists and mom was also a goatherd.

At the moment, my mother was currently looking at me with concern as she poured her candle wax into glass jars. "Mist, Izan called me this morning."

So, far, I'd been home three days and had kept my phone off the entire time. And I'd also not spoken one word as to why I'd come home. I'd just pulled my art supplies that I'd brought from home from my bag, taken my easel outside, set up a canvas and began painting with my watercolors. One of my mother's goats came up and watched me for a while every day until I handed him a slice of apple that I always carried with me when I was at home.

My mom would never ask intrusive questions or pry; she was a huge believer in letting life unfold in its own time. But if Izan was calling her, he must be getting desperate. He'd met my family several times and had said he'd liked them. But who knows what he'd really thought about them. I thought he and his family had liked me, but that had been a lie. He probably thought my parents were part of a cult, something that people often confused us with.

"Do you want me to get more jars?"

"Yes, please, honey."

I placed more jars in front of her and she looked at me from under her lashes. "He's worried, Gentle Mist."

Yes, that was my real name. Children of hippies who were children of hippies. My sister was Soft Breeze and our surprise younger brother was Shining Light. Mom using my first and middle names was her giving me a subtle rebuke.

"And what did you say to him?"

My mother cocked her head at me. "Mist, what do you think I said to him?"

Oh, I hated when she pulled that on me. She'd never pry, but she'd pull the bullshit trading a question for a question routine with me. It was a tactic she excelled at, and when in use, it made my dad shake his head and laugh.

I wasn't a stubborn person. It just wasn't me so I spilled. "Izan had his birthday party a few nights ago. He and his friends didn't know I'd been taking Spanish lessons for the past year. And Yvette was there at his party."

"Yvette is difficult for your relationship with Izan."

"She always has been."

"Her bad energy weighs down your spirit."

"It does. And Izan said he'd dealt with her, but I found out they'd been keeping in touch for the last couple of months and he invited her to his birthday party."

"They're old friends."

"But, Mom, he knows how I feel about her."

"So he ignores your wishes."

I shrugged. "Sometimes. He usually tries to protect me from her."

"Protect you, Mist?"

"Yeah, it sounds bad when I say it out loud."

"It's an interesting relationship between the three of you."

Geez, we sounded like a love triangle. "Anyway, they all started talking in Spanish and Izan talked about almost having enough money for an engagement ring for me. And that kind of set everyone off. They just all started saying awful things about my looks, my personality, my job, my clothes."