Little Hidden Darknesses
Four:

Alejandro definitely wasn’t kidding about the sign. I barely rounded the bend in the road when it caught my eye: the word motel in glowing, neon-pink letters complete with a flickering T. Classically retro. Another banner was nailed to the post under it, though I had to narrow my eyes to see what it read. Nice and clean rooms. Best deal on the island.

This made me frown. Who were they trying to convince? As the only motel around, tourists had no choice but to check in. Clean rooms didn’t matter. Neither did the location, apparently, as it sat at the edge of the forest, right across from a cemetery and connecting church.

I squinted at the clocktower.

6:05 PM.

The lavender sky had turned three shades of blue, and the fog lay in billows all around me, almost to cover the road. I found it strange, the way darkness seemed to summon it. And the way I felt drawn to it, as if the fog was calling me – as if I was calling it.

I shook my head and crossed the street to the motel parking lot. Not a single car occupied it, nor so much as a motorbike. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen a vehicle since I arrived. It probably made sense, considering the size of this place. Why drive when you can walk?

My mum’s words echoed in my mind – more proof that she really did grow up on the island. She never let us get a car, not even a used one. And it didn’t matter how much she hated public commute. A car was out of the question. A waste of hard-earned money.

My chest tightened at the thought of my mum. At the thought of the Vinsants’ faces when I had told them she died. Why would anyone react like that over someone they didn’t know?

It didn’t make sense. They didn’t make sense. But, then again, neither did anyone else in town. Or this nonsense about deadly fog.

I let my thoughts simmer at the back of my mind as I pushed open the reception door and stepped inside, right into a room of horrors. Horrors and incense and candlelight.

A series of skull-threaded strings dangled lengthwise across the room, complete with yellow, white and purple flowers made from tissue paper. More skulls hung on the walls, and one giant one sat on the front desk, ogling me with its hollow eyes and too-wide grin.

The lady behind the front desk looked up from where she was folding more flowers from tissue paper. She had curly, hazel hair and the warmest, most golden eyes I had ever seen.

I gazed once about the reception before I approached the desk, my eyes still on the giant skull.

“Good evening,” I said, hesitantly. “I’d like a room, if you have one.”

The lady looked at me as though I was a phantom, or a girl who had just emerged from the fog into the town square. I could feel it – her angst – see it in the way she examined me. Her expression resembled May’s from when I had entered the book exchange.

“You,” she said after a moment of silence. She had an accent like Alejandro, yet hers was slightly denser than his. More distinct. “You’re the girl they say who came through the fog.”

My spirits fell. Of course, I should’ve known the news would spread. Especially in a town with barely one street. “Please,” I started to say, but the lady violently shook her head.

“No, no, no,” she said, gathering her pile of flowers. Even when several from the yellow pile fell off the edge of the desk, she didn’t bend to pick them up. “I’m sorry, but you have to go now.” She muttered something Spanish, then motioned me away with her hands.

I opened my mouth to beg some more, perhaps reason with her, when she dropped the flowers again, picked up the phone and held it to her ear. “If you don’t go, I’ll call the police.”

What? Why? I didn’t do anything.

As much as I wanted to contest, I didn’t want to risk getting arrested. If the officers were anything like the townsfolk, they’d likely burn me at the stake. Or throw me into the fog.

I hoped for the latter scenario.

“I’m serious,” the lady warned when I didn’t move. Then, she started to dial a number.

“Alright,” I said with my hands in the air, “I’m going.” As I turned, the door opened and someone entered.

“Well, the power’s all fixed. I can’t really tell what the problem is, but it ought to do for now.” He wore dark green overalls and had a toolbox in his hand. His hazel waves were tied up into what passed for a bun, leaving the patch of discoloured skin across his right eye exposed.

Alejandro.

When he saw me, he quickly undid his hair and covered his patch. “Oh, Eira,” he said with a hiccup. “Hi again.” I couldn’t tell whether he was delighted or aggrieved to see me.

A part of me hoped for the former. A part which quickly got buried under the sound of a dialling phone.

“Alejandro, don’t let her escape,” said the lady. “I’m calling the police.”

This made him drop the toolbox. “The police? Mamá, no!” He ran to the desk and ended the call. His mum scolded him in Spanish, and he replied with a couple phrases of his own.

When after several seconds they seemed to have sorted things out, Alejandro reversed and placed his left hand on my back. His palm moulded with the curve of my spine, each of his fingertips burning through my clothes and onto my skin. My eyes flicked toward his face, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt it too. Felt what, exactly?

Whatever I did feel, it immediately vanished when I met his mum’s eyes, no longer as warm as before.

“Mamá,” Alejandro said, his voice smooth, “this is Eira.”

“What are you doing, Alejandro? She came through the fog, she’s dangerous!” his mum snapped back, then crossed her hands over her chest as if to banish any evil from her sight.

“No, she isn’t. I showed her around today. She just wants a room for tonight, isn’t that right?” This time, he was the one who looked at me. I didn’t look back, but nodded in agreement.

“Please, Mrs. Perez,” I said as sweetly, and least dangerously, as possible. “I can pay in cash.”

Mrs. Perez considered this for a moment. Then, her eyes flicked to Alejandro’s hand, which still rested on my back, and he yanked it away. We both stepped aside at the same time.

“I promise, mamá. Eira’s not dangerous. And she’s not a stranger. She’s related to the Vinsants.”

The moment he mentioned their name, his mum relaxed. Not entirely, but enough for her forehead to smooth and her eyes to reclaim some of their warmth. She sighed and raked the guestbook toward her, then grabbed a pen from the jar next to the phone on the desk.

I held my breath as I approached again, the skull no longer the most frightening thing in the room. “How much?” I asked as I removed my mother’s coin purse from my duffle bag.

“Twenty-five pounds.” Mrs. Perez didn’t look up at me. She finished scribbling in the guestbook, then rotated it around and handed me the pen. It too was riddled with pictures of skulls. Skulls and flowers and what looked like colourful ribbons. “Just sign your name, please.”

After I did as she said, I returned the book and pen, and unclipped my mother’s coin purse. A lonely twenty started back at me, surrounded by several coins. My fingers reached inside and collected the payment. Mrs. Perez scraped it across the desk and put it away, leaving me with a near-empty purse. Great. I now had a total of three pounds to my name.

Barely enough for a meal.

“Here’s your key,” said Alejandro, having rounded the desk and taken it off a hook behind his mum.

Our fingers touched when he gave it to me, and I couldn’t move for a moment. “Oh, thanks,” I said.

Neither of us let go.

We stayed like this for a while, then his mum yanked the key from both our grips and stabbed her son in the ribs. “Alejandro, show her to her room. And hurry, before the fog rolls in.”

“Alright, I’ll be quick. No te preocupes, mamá.” He pecked his mum on the cheek, then took the key and strolled to the door. His overalls were slightly too big for him, and he had to push up his sleeves to keep them from covering his hands. A real working man.

How funny.

I flashed Mrs. Perez a final smile before I set after Alejandro, out the door and onto the deck that lined the parking lot. The sky was swathed in stars, our only source of light save for several lamps beside the room doors. Fog tumbled across the parking lot, slowly creeping toward us on the deck. The forest was gone, swallowed. Every shadow, every sound.

“Aren’t you coming?” Alejandro wanted to know, and I had to wrench my gaze from the fog to look at him. He twirled the keyring around his finger, his body turned sideways.

“Yea,” I said, quickly, then caught up to him.

Our feet creaked across the deck, our shoulders mere inches from touching. He was the first of us two to speak. “So, what happened with the Vinsants? Nothing good, I presume.”

“You presume correctly,” I replied with a sigh. “They claimed they don’t know anyone by my mum’s name, then kicked me out. But I saw it. I saw a photo of her on their wall.”

Alejandro uttered a fascinated grunt. “Strange.” He looked sideways at me, but I barely saw his right eye through his fringe. “Why would they lie about knowing your mother? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Tell me about it. But I plan on getting to the bottom of it, that’s for sure.” I grinded my teeth together in frustration. It didn’t help, though, and only gave me something of a headache. I changed the topic, “So, what’s with all those skulls in there? I nearly had a heart attack.”

“Oh, yea. I thought you might wonder,” said Alejandro with a cheeky grin. His bottom lip slipped in between his teeth. Only briefly, though. “Have you ever heard of Día de Muertos?”

I thought for a bit. “The Day of the Dead?”

“That’s the one. It’s in four days, and my mother and I love to celebrate it. To stay in contact with my father.” Alejandro’s voice dropped a little at the end, and he cleared his throat before adding, “We’re only two, but it’s still a fun celebration. It’s part of my heritage, you know.”

I shook my head, still stuck on one of his previous sentences. “I’m sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Ah, don’t worry. It all happened a long time ago.” He paused. “And I’m, well, sorry about your mother.”

“Thanks.”

We arrived at my room and Alejandro unlocked the door. He gave me the key and stepped back, scratching the back of his neck. His overalls ruffled as he did so, the excess material gathering in his neck. “Good luck with your investigation, I guess. There’s a – uh – vending machine around the corner, and we serve complimentary breakfast in the morning. Just make sure to come early. We invite the town’s senior citizens as well.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “And for stopping your mum from calling the police back there.”

Alejandro grinned. “No problem. I’m just glad I got there when I did.”

“Me too, believe me.” I started to reverse into the room, a void of darkness that smelled like stale perfume and cleaning products. “Good night, Alejandro. It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” he replied, still with his hand behind his head. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

This made me laugh. “I’ve been alone in worse places than this, believe me.” I bit my tongue, not sure whether he’d take that as a diss or not. “Not that this place is bad or anyth –”

“Didn’t you read our sign? Clean rooms. The best deal in town. You should be flattered you get to stay here.” Alejandro cocked a brow at me. “It’s certainly better than a jail cell.”

“Ah, you got me there.”

We shared another – slightly awkward – laugh, then he turned and strutted off into the shadows.

I took a moment to stare out across the fog, into it, trying to make out anything at all, but it was too thick. Too daunting. I shut the door as a shiver ran down my spine, right into my shoes.

My fingers crawled across the wall in search of the light switch. I flicked it and the room flooded with hazy, orange light. The room was somewhat smaller than I expected, with barely enough space for a lumpy double bed, two bedside tables, a wardrobe and a mirror. While the décor looked old and outdated, it nonetheless gave me the island feel. Palm trees here and coconuts there. Pink flamingos on the bathroom tiles.

I dropped my duffle bag by the foot of the bathtub and opened the tap. First hot, then cold. I didn’t even shut the door as I stripped down and slid into the water, my legs too long to keep straight. The water flooded around me, sweet, sweet, warmth. It had been days since I had a proper bath. The hostels in and around Plymouth only had showers.

And you barely got hot water.

The past few weeks played and replayed in my mind. My mum’s death. Social services threatening to put me in the foster system until I age out next year. Me replaceing the envelope in my mum’s closet. A spark of hope. A place for me to go, to have a possible future.

One in which my mum could still be present, despite being …

I splashed water across my face to wash away any possible tears. I had made a promise to myself on the boat. Crying was no longer an option, no matter how sad or dejected I felt.

My hand – still dripping – reached over the edge of the tub into my duffle bag. I removed the envelope and took out the letter. The one I had read for more than a thousand times, yet each time felt as though I had only just found it. As if my mum had just written it.

I moved my lips to the words as I read it once again.

My dearest family,

By the time you get this, I ought to be long gone. I know that’s probably not a viable excuse, but after all these years, I’d like to express my deepest apologies. I’m sorry for what I did, for how I split the family apart. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I tried to stay strong, but the guilt poisoned me, killed me. Every day. Every year. I know this is who we are, and I’m sorry for being a coward.

I have daughter, though. She’s just the most amazing girl. I’ve kept her from her family, from the truth of who – of what – she is for long enough. If she comes to the island to replace you, please take her in. I might’ve been weak, but I know now, on my death bed, that I had made mistake in leaving. Please, show her the way. Teach her who she is, and what she has to do to survive in this world.

Mom, I miss you.

All my love,

Piper

I stroke my mum’s name with my thumb, accidentally smearing the ink. But it didn’t matter now. Not anymore, anyway. The Vinsants had already read the letter. They had seen my mum’s apology, her request, and still didn’t care. Her words had meant nothing to them.

I kept wondering, though, what could possibly have happened to make them lie like that. To have made my mum want to leave without looking back, and ever making contact.

My eyes skimmed the last sentence of the final paragraph again, my lips forming the words without sound. Teach her who she is, and what she has to do to survive in this world. A lump lodged in my throat. Who was I, and what did I have to do? My mind buzzed with theories, none of which made any sense. But none of this made any sense either, not really.

Whatever my mum did, though, whatever she felt the urge to apologise for, I intended to replace out.

And I wasn’t leaving this island until I did.