The Undead (Lesbian Story)

The Performance

Don't be a wuss. You can do this.

I pushed my way inside. Garlic, butter and tomato paste scented the air. "Hey," I said, and hoped I hadn't cringed.

Mom glanced up from the steamingstrainer of noodles and smiled. "Hey, baby. Coming in for good, or just taking a break?"

"Break." The forced incarceration at night drove me to spend as much time as possible outside during daylight hours, whether I burned to lobster-red or not.

"Well, your timing's great. The spaghetti's almost done."

"Yeah, okay, good." During the summer months, we ate dinner at five sharp. Winter, we switched it up to four. That way, no matter the season, we could be in our rooms and safe before sunset.

The walls were reinforced with some kind of steel, and the doors and locks were impenetrable. And yes, those things made our futuristic dungeon known as "the basement" overkill, but you try reasoning with a crazy person.

Just do it. Just say it. "So, um, yeah." I shifted from one foot to the other. "Today's my birthday."

Her jaw dropped, her cheeks bleaching of color. "Oh...baby. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... I should have remembered...I even made myself notes. Happy birthday," she finished lamely. She looked around, as if hoping a present would somehow appear via the force of her will. "I feel terrible."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'll do something to make this up to you, I swear."

And so the negotiations have begun. I squared my shoulders. "Do you really mean that?"

"Of course."

"Good, because Maya has a recital tonight and I want to go."

Though my mom radiated sadness, she was shaking her head even before I finished. "You know your dad will never agree."

"So talk to him. Convince him."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because." A croak.

I loved this woman, I truly did, but, oh, she could frustrate me like no one else. "Because why?" I insisted. Even if she cried, I wasn't dropping this. Better her tears than Maya's.

Mom pivoted, as graceful as Maya as she carried the strainer to the pot and dumped the contents inside. Steam rose and wafted around her, and for a moment, she looked as if she were part of a dream. "Maya knows the rules. She'll understand."

The way I'd had to understand, time and time again before I'd just given up? Anger sparked. "Why do you do this? Why do you always agree with him when you know he's off-the-charts insane?"

"He's not-"

"He is!" Like Maya, I stomped my foot.

"Quiet," she said, her tone admonishing. "He's upstairs."

Yeah, and I'd bet he was already drunk.

She added, "We've talked about this, honey. I believe your dad sees something the rest of us can't. But before you cast stones at him or me, take a look at the Bible. Once upon a time our Lord and Savior was persecuted. Tons of people doubted Jesus."

"Dad isn't Jesus!" He rarely even went to church with us.

"I know, and that's not what I'm saying. I believe there are forces at work all around us. Forces for good and forces for evil."