The Hidden Genre (C. H. H. Ain't Dead 01)

chapter four

IT WAS night shift for the sky but half the moon pitched up, the other half was kept in the dark.

   Chantal pulled into the parking lot of the church building and gave the vehicle a rest; like the entire journey, her daughter's eyes were still ahead of her like she had a staring contest with a ghost. The building's lights snapped her back to reality.

   “I guess Isaac's here already,” said Chantal.

   “Thanks for the lift,” said Ruth, getting ready to exit the car.

   “Whoa, slow down there, girly,” she hated to see her daughter depressed, especially since they worked so hard to get her out of it. “You've practically been quiet since you got home. There's something bothering you and I know you only really speak with your dad, but I want you to know I'm here for you. If you need to talk about anything, even deeper level stuff, then don’t hesitate to come to me.”

   “Oh, wow, was the small talk not convincing enough?” said her daughter, sarcastically.

   “I'm your mother, girly. You can't fool me that easily,” replied Chantal.

   Her mother was right. Maybe it was time Ruth let her in. Maybe her mother stopped comparing her to her older sister. Maybe she actually wanted to get to know her second daughter. “Okay,” Ruth closed the door. “First, you do know that Luke is coming, right –”

   “I want you to stay far away from that, kid!” Chantal began lecturing, “he's the reason why –”

   “Mother stop!” Ruth cut her off.

   Clearly nothing had changed.

   “I'm sorry, Ruth,” replied her mother.

   Clearly nothing . . . had she just used her name? No, it couldn't be. Chantal didn't. It was her imagination, it had to be. Ruth hadn’t heard her name leave the lips of her mother for nearly three years now.

   “I can't help it that I get emotional pretty quick.” Chantal snapped the seat belt out, “okay . . .” she turned to face her daughter, “I will try to sit here, keep quiet and listen to you speak.”

   “I don't want you to just listen, mommy,” Chantal’s heart sank upon hearing the word mommy from her daughter’s mouth. It was so sweet to her ears. Mother had become such a bitter word that Ruth only used as a counter to everything. “I want to hear your thoughts about it. How you feel about situations, what you did when you were in similar positions. Like you did with Casey - but I need you to let me finish first.”

   Chantal surrendered into her seat after an agreement was made, “This isn't about Luke,” said Ruth before she zoned out as if the ghost returned for round two, “it’s about Isaac . . .”

   “What about Isaac?” her mother finally asked, after she was a hundred percent sure it was her time to speak.

   “I think he knows,” whispered Ruth.

   Chantal swallowed the bile in her throat, “Knows what?”

   “About Luke –”

   “I didn't mean to keep –” said Chantal, until her daughter cut her off by adding, “and me . . .”

   “Oh . . .” Chantal's breathing rhythm slowly returned, “I don't think it's that then.”