Sarah Allen - The Girl Who Chased the Moon

“That’s what my mother said when she was pregnant with me.”

“I wanted to keep her so badly,” she said. “For a long time, I was angry at everyone for not helping me make that happen. It took a while to realize that it was just misplaced guilt, because I wasn’t well enough to care for her on my own.”

He was the one to look away this time. “Saying I’m sorry doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like I owe you so much more. I owe you for her.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I have a daughter.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “She was a gift.”

“Your hair is still pink in this photo.” He lifted the one of her holding the baby in the hospital. “When did you stop dyeing it?”

“When I went up to school. I cut it all off shortly after that photo was taken.”

“When did you start with the pink streak?” Julia nervously tucked it behind her ear. “In college. My friends in Baltimore think I do it to be edgy. But I do it because it reminds me of what I can get through… of what I have gotten through. It reminds me not to give up.”

There was a long silence. A maintenance man on a riding lawn mower drove onto the football field and started taking wide loops around it. Julia and Sawyer watched him. “Are you going to stay?” Sawyer finally asked.

How did she answer that? He was being very calm. She had no idea how he really felt. “I spent so much time telling myself that this wasn’t home that I started to believe it,” she said carefully. “Belonging has always been tough for me.”

“I can be your home,” he said quietly. “Belong to me.” She stared at him, stunned by his whispered grand gesture, until he turned to her. When he saw the tears in her eyes, he reached for her. She held on to him and cried, cried for so long her throat ached, cried until the football field was all mown and the air smelled of cut grass, and bugs swarmed the track.

To think, after all this time, after all the searching and all the waiting, after all the regret and the time she’d spent away, she came back to find that happiness was right where she’d left it.

On a football field in Mullaby, North Carolina.

Waiting for her.

E mily stuffed her hands in her shorts pockets as she walked down the sidewalk that night. There were no cars out, but she kept listening for them, stepping into the darkness in between each streetlight and pausing, waiting for some indication that Win had invited the whole town to this, like her mother had done.

Since coming to Mullaby, Emily had discovered that her disbelief could be suspended further than she ever thought it could, and there was a small part of her that wondered, what if it was true? If giants exist, if wallpaper can change on its own… why couldn’t Win do… what he said he could do? If it was real, that meant this wasn’t about revenge. This wasn’t about what her mother had done. The closer she got the more she wanted it to be true.

When she reached Main Street, she stopped on the sidewalk by the park. No one was there. Gray-green moonlight illuminated the area, and the shadows from the trees in the back looked like brittle witches’ fingers reaching across the grass toward her. She took a step into the park, then made herself walk to the bandstand.

She stood a few feet away from the main staircase and stared up at it, all the way up to the crescent moon weather-vane, then she turned back to the street, to see if Win was coming from that direction.

“You came. I didn’t think you would.”

His voice startled her, coming out of nowhere. “Where are you?” she called into the park, her eyes darting around, the shadows playing tricks on her.

“Behind you.” She spun back to the bandstand. Her hands had started shaking, so she curled them into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. Looking closely, she could finally make out a figure in a dark pool at the back of the stage.

She felt her heart sink.

“You’re not glowing.” she said, and it was an accusation, like he’d forgotten her birthday or stepped on her toe and didn’t say he was sorry. It hurt, and she felt stupid for letting it. There wasn’t anything supernatural to this. It was simple, and simple was good. Easier to understand. That was why she’d shown up tonight, after all. To let him play his trick on her. To try to right some wrongs.

She saw him rise, his white suit standing out against the shadows. He walked to the steps and slowly descended. He stopped on the grass, a few feet away from her. She met his eyes defiantly. Give it to me , she thought. I can take it .

It took a moment for her to realize that Win looked nervous, unsure. That’s when it happened. Like blowing on embers, a light began to grow around him. It looked like he was backlit, but of course there was no light source around him. It was as if radiant heat was emanating from his skin, surrounding him in waving white light. He looked like a dream of daylight in the middle of night. His light was almost alive, undulating, reaching out. It was utterly, terrifyingly beautiful.

He stood there and let her stare at him. His shoulders seemed to relax a little when he realized she wasn’t going to run away. But it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. She simply couldn’t. Her muscles felt frozen.

He took one step toward her, then another. She could see the light as it began to stretch toward her. Then she felt it, those ribbons of warmth. It was usually comforting, that feeling, but it was a decidedly different experience to actually see what was happening.

“Stop,” she said, her voice thin and breathless. She was finally able to take a few steps backward by leaning back, as if to fall, and her legs instinctively moved to keep her upright. “Just stop.”

He stopped immediately as she stumbled away. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Was she all right? No, she wasn’t all right! She turned her back on him and put her hands on her knees. She couldn’t get enough air.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Emily.”

“How are you doing that?” she demanded. “Make it stop!”

“I can’t. But I can get out of the moonlight. Come over to the steps. Sit down.”

“Don’t,” she said, looking over her shoulder and seeing that he was making another move toward her. “Just do what you have to do to make it go away.”

He took the steps two at a time and retreated into the shadows of the stage. She gratefully tripped to the steps to sit. She put her head down and tried to concentrate on something random. The word lethologica describes the state of not being able to remember the word you want .

She eventually lifted her head as the spots faded from her eyes. She felt chilled from her cold sweat.

“I didn’t mean to make you panic,” Win said from behind her. “I’m sorry.”

It helped not having to turn around to look at him yet. “Are there people here watching? Are we being filmed? Is that what this is all about?”

“This isn’t a trick,” he said, an ocean of heartache in those words. “It’s who I am.”

She took a deep breath and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. If this was real… then she understood why the town was so shocked when her mother brought Win’s uncle out at night.

Strange and wondrous things, indeed.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Can I get you something?”

“No, just stay there.” She finally stood and faced the bandstand again. “Everyone here knows?”