Tracing the Bones by Elise A. Miller

Author:Elise A. Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress
Published: 2016-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I feel deeply changed,” my mom says, nestled into the heated leather passenger seat of Billy’s car, and then speaks of her plans to begin one-on-one sessions with him right away. “He has a month-long immersion program that sounds absolutely cathartic,” she says, beaming at him. She clutches a handful of paper—a brochure, a catalog, a few flyers and postcards. Then she turns to me. “Thank you so much, my darling daughter, for inviting me to this workshop. Did you get anything from it?”

“Mom,” I say, feeling uncomfortably adolescent, wishing she’d embrace silence for once, wishing I could figure out if I was dreaming or not when Billy—well, when it seemed like he was in my visualization with me. That kiss we shared reverberates through my entire body, leaving me very confused. And bewildered. And horny.

“Well, did you? I am your mother. Am I not allowed to inquire after your spiritual well-being?”

“Yes, Mother. I got something out of it.”

“I am glad to hear that, Eve, because I really think this type of thing is good for you. It can really free you up, like I was freed today. Do you know what I saw down there?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, bracing myself against my mother’s fresh self-actualized take on life.

“I saw your grandmother. On the boardwalk in Ventnor,” she says. “I know we were supposed to go underground,” she says as an aside to Billy, “but she was there on the boardwalk proud as anything, with her purse and her hat. It was so vivid. And you know what? She was so unhappy.”

“That’s too bad,” I say, wondering how Billy could have possibly entered my meditation. No, I’m overreacting. Wishful thinking. He’s just too damned hot. That’s all it is.

“It’s a shame. So sad.” She turns to Billy. “I wish my other daughter could have come. This would have been so good for her. She works so hard. And she’s divorced, raising a boy on her own. Such a smart, pretty woman. Kine hora poo poo poo.”

I press my fist into the seat back behind my mom. What is she doing? Setting Billy up with Jeannie? I wish I could tape her mouth shut.

Then she admonishes me again. “What about you, Eve? What did you see?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say, glancing at Billy, who’s staring at me again through the rearview, and I could swear he looks tense—scared, really. I look away, out the window, where all I see is Billy anyway, walking toward me, shirtless and barefoot, his tongue flicking like a snake’s.

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