Spitting Image
Nona was staring out into space. A thin, vacant smile crossed her face and bunched up the wrinkles lining her mouth. She stood hunched, her hands shaking by her chest. It seemed like she wasn't looking at anything in particular, but her gaze remained on something that Mirtala couldn't see.
It wasn't the first time Mirtala realized Nona hadn't watched her perform. The same occurrence had happened several times over the past few months. Whenever Mirtala had tried practicing around her, flipping and cartwheeling until she was breathless, Nona, despite her grin, directed her attention elsewhere.
Nona only examined Mirtala if she had a partner. Queepie often joined her, and then, Nona faced them while they practiced their floor routine. They had backflipped and rolled in unison, not a single error made. Afterward, Nona had clapped and cooed over them. Mirtala had sucked in the affirmation like a sponge to water, repeating the words in her head long after Nona had stopped acknowledging them,
Her siblings didn't have to vie for Nona's recognition when they performed. Nona adored her grandsons. They were her little turnips, Dion being her favorite, her oldest. And she had nary a negative word to say about Frazie, even if when she was younger, she had snuck out at night to explore various towns on Sugarcube. If anything, Nona had chuckled when Mama and Papa reprimanded Frazie as if everything was a joke to her.
Mirtala had never acted out. She never ran away like her sister or her favorite brother. Every day, Mirtala obeyed and smiled, and her parents and Nona loved her, praised her, assured her when she needed comfort from Dion's callous remarks.
It wasn't as if Nona always ignored her. Nona helped fix her braids in the morning. She sewed new silk patches onto her clothes and dolls. And at night, Nona tucked her into bed and recalled stories about her childhood in Grulovia. But sometimes, she had stopped in the middle of a sentence, leering at the peeling wood on the caravan wall, and then, before the younger children questioned her, Papa had to escort her to her bedroom, murmuring kind words that Mirtala couldn't hear.
It only happened when Mirtala practiced her acrobatics, and she couldn't understand why.
Mirtala stood up from the mat. She brushed the dirt off her knees and straightened her tiara. She glanced at their current camp, the caravan off to the side, and the various carpets set up around an unlit campfire. Several unopened boxes and trunks had been left unattended in a cluttered pile near the entrance of the thicker forest off the unpaved path. They had no reason to set themselves up for a show when one of their own had escaped two days ago.
Mama and Papa had gone into town looking for answers about a psychic summer camp. Dion and Frazie were in charge until they returned home. They were busy conversing with each other by the caravan. And Queepie didn't have a care in the world, dancing next to his radio that played a soft rock song that Mirtala couldn't name.
She fiddled with the bells on her head. With a quiet grunt, she tugged them out along with a few strands of hair. They quietly jingled, and Mirtala tossed them onto her mat. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nona lifting her ear to the sound as if ensuring that she had heard it.
"Nona?" she called, tugging on her shawl.
Her grandmother tilted her head, her long, gray hairs swaying with the slightest movement. "Yes, Tala?" she asked, showing her gums as she smiled.
Mirtala's shoulders tensed. She glanced at her mat and flicked her wrist at it. "Um, I was hoping you could watch me do a few somersaults. I think I'm losing my flow when I-"
She bit her tongue. Nona's smile had dwindled. It creased into a thin line on her face. Mirtala could have mistaken it for one of her many wrinkles.
"Your somersaults are fine, my turnip," Nona said, patting her head. Her eyes were unfocused. They seemed misty, a fog covering her pupils, and she turned away, hobbling to the caravan. "Now, let me take my rest. Stay away from the water."
Mirtala sucked in a breath. It became trapped in her throat, and she let her grandmother stumble up the steps of the caravan. As Frazie rushed over to aid Nona, Mirtala's hands formed tiny fists by her sides.
She didn't know why she hadn't pressed the issue. With anyone else in the family, she would have continued questioning them. But she allowed Nona to leave, her familiar warning forever heeded by all of the Aquatos ringing between her ears.
"Hey, Tala!" Dion shouted, cupping his hand to his mouth. "It's almost dinnertime, and that means Mom and Dad are coming back soon. Go find me some firewood, and I'll get the campfire ready." He pointed at Queepie, who continued dancing. "And Queepie, hop to it. Help Tala."
"Not yet. It's still my me time," Queepie replied, his back facing Dion as he shimmied from side to side.
Dion groaned and dragged his hand down his face. "You little-! Fine. You get five minutes, and then, you're helping Tala, got it?"
Queepie didn't dignify Dion with a response. Mirtala didn't stick around to hear the rest of their one-sided argument. She scampered into the woods behind the caravan. She raised her head, observing the thick, tall, sweet-smelling trees that towered over her and the rest of her family. While she could've climbed them in a matter of seconds, she found herself rubbing her arms, surprised at their coolness.
She gnawed on the inside of her mouth and shook her head. She needed to procure firewood. Gathering a variety of broken branches scattered on the grass, Mirtala buried her concerns. It was what she needed to do for the family, but as she continued to collect them, she shuddered from head to toe as their voices broke through the calm of the forest.
"Queepie! Come on!" Dion uttered an exasperated cry. "I'm gonna dismantle the radio if you keep ignoring me!"
Queepie's whine cut through Dion's sharp voice. "Frazie, Dion's being mean! I had one more minute!"
Frazie's voice interjected. "Queepie, Dion's right! We don't have time to play! And you've been playing all day!"
"But you aren't helping!"
"I just helped settle Nona down for her pre-dinner nap!"
"Which means you can help get the firewood!"
"Queepie!" Dion barked. "That's it! I'm taking the radio!"
As they argued, Mirtala cradled the branches to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, her skin clammy, and she wished she was anywhere else. Their voices reached a shrill pitch, Dion and Frazie turning on each other over something mundane, and Queepie laughed, his music still playing.
Emerging from the woods, she stumbled out behind the long shadow of the caravan. Looking to the window, it was dark inside. Nona must have somehow found a way to sleep through their bickering.
Mirtala gritted down on her teeth. Her knees wobbled, and she almost dropped the firewood. She didn't want to face them. Going out to give them the firewood meant enduring the brunt of their arguing, and she prayed for them all to be quiet.
Tap tap.
Mirtala uttered a bemused hum. She surveyed her surroundings and saw nothing but trees. When the tapping happened again, she looked in front of her, and her mouth fell open.
Nona knocked on the window. Mirtala blinked, watching her bony fingers curl into her palm. She gestured for Mirtala to enter, cocking her head at the small side door before vanishing into the shadows.
Mirtala beamed. Nona wanted to talk with her alone. Without a second thought, Mirtala threw open the back door and skipped into the caravan. Tossing the firewood at the other door, she flicked her head from side to side, taking in what few possessions they owned and the dark, chipping paint decorating the wooden walls.
The lights remained off. When Mirtala reached for a switch, Nona's voice urged her to stop. Mirtala rested her hand on her arm, still cold. Looking to the front of the small space, she found Nona sitting in her mahogany chair, rocking back and forth, back and forth.
"Tala," Nona murmured, extending her hand. "Come here. Let me see you. I want to see you."
Mirtala's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know how to respond. Instinct took over as her body rolled forward, her knees curling into her chest, and she landed perfectly upright from her somersault. She threw her arms in the air and stood on her tiptoes, her smile etched to her face. She caught a quick breath and held it, anticipation making sweat dampen her brow.
Nona finally looked at her. She narrowed her half-lidded gaze and leaned forward in her seat. She slipped her hands across Mirtala's face and stroked her cheeks with her thumbs, her worn bandages scratching Mirtala's skin.
"You're her spitting image," she crooned. "Just like her when she was a wee girl. Oh, you even move as she did."
Mirtala smiled. "Like who, Nona?"
Nona stood up, withdrawing her hand, and Mirtala resisted the urge to press her cheek into it. Her gaze fell from Mirtala to the floor. Slowly, she brought her head up, met Mirtala's eyes, and she flinched. Her hands jerked to her chest. Her back struck the seat of her chair, and her arm swept out, knocking over various trinkets she had gathered on her nearby dresser. A harsh, ragged breath escaped her as if someone punched her squarely between her lungs, expelling all the air in her brittle, weathered body. She covered her eyes and pressed her knuckles to her brow, blocking Mirtala out of her sight.
A chill ran down Mirtala's spine. She reached out and grasped Nona's hands streaked with bulging veins. Nona whimpered to herself, muttering something that Mirtala couldn't quite make out.
"Nona?" Mirtala whispered. "Nona, are you-?"
"Mirtala, what are you doing in here?"
Mirtala broke away from Nona as Frazie hurried into the caravan. She grabbed her sister's wrist and tugged her away, apologizing to Nona on Mirtala's behalf. "It's her naptime. And, hey, where's the firewood?" she demanded only to spot it on the steps. "Oh, well, at least you did what Dion asked."
Mirtala resisted. She snatched Frazie's skirt and cried, "But Nona-! She-! All her stuff fell and she-!"
Nona had already begun picking up her belongings. She slowly pinched beads, threads, and spools that had fallen between her fingers. Frazie gasped, her hand moving to her mouth, and she ordered Mirtala to help Dion with the fireplace.
"But what about-?"
"I'm helping Nona now, Mirtala. You help Dion," she said, and she pointed at the firewood. "Go."
Mirtala didn't fight back. Attempting to argue with Frazie would only cause her head to pound. She couldn't keep up with Frazie's fast-paced rhetoric or comebacks. Her shoulders slumped, and she snatched the branches, her scowl deepening on her face. As she left, she heard Frazie whispering to Nona, who laughed at something that made Mirtala's skin crawl.
Dropping the branches onto a larger pile of wood in the center of their camp, Mirtala slapped her hands on her thighs. "I did it," she muttered, not looking at Dion.
"Good. Thanks. At least I can count on you in this family," Dion said, setting heavy, round stones around the wood. "Do me another favor. Can you find Queepie? The twerp bolted after I said I'd take his radio." When she didn't answer, Dion finally looked up. "Mirtala, did you hear me?"
She dragged her shoulders up and down. "Sure."
He arched an eyebrow, mumbling, "'Sure?'" He set aside a stone and scratched his neck. "Uh, Tala, are you okay? You normally like running around looking for Queepie. I thought it was like a game of hide and seek for you two." He paused, then hitched his thumb at the woods. "Did something happen out there?"
She shook her head. "No. It's okay. I'll find Queepie."
He nodded, pursing his lips, then cracked a smile. "Yeah. Wouldn't wanna have two runaways in this family." When she didn't smile, he breathed through his teeth. "Uh, okay, good talk."
Mirtala turned away and marched off to the woods, her braids heavy on her head. She stopped by her mat, her bells glimmering from the rays of sunlight through the trees. They had been a gift from Mama, and before they belonged to her, they had been in Nona's possession as what little she had left from Grulovia.
Mar. She allowed the phrase to enter her mind. Mar-something. Mar-tala? No. That doesn't sound right. Oh, Nona, I wish-
She shook her head, dispelling her confusion, concern, and consternation. She had to find Queepie before Mama and Papa returned. Upsetting the family even further was the last thing she wanted to do, and cupping her hands to her ears, she strained her hearing to listen for Queepie's music.