When Women Were Dragons(107)
I shivered as we stepped outside. The black sky overhead glittered with stars, each one crisp and clear and cold. It was one of those rare nights where the dropping temperature squeezed out every droplet of excess moisture that might fog the air and muddle the seeing, and the wind had decided to make itself perfectly still. My breath clouded and my eyelashes froze. It didn’t matter. My belly was hot and my bones were hot and my skin seemed to radiate. Sonja Blomgren reached over and placed her hands on my cheeks. Her fingers were cold but her palms were hot. I didn’t want to go inside. Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation. (For what? I didn’t ask. Oh god, why didn’t I ask?)
“The sky is perfect,” I said. “Would you like to stargaze with me?”
The best way to stargaze is to lie flat on your back and look directly up, so that the center of your vision is on the darkest part of the sky. Some years back, some astronomy students outfitted a trunk on the roof for stargazing, stocked with boiled-wool blankets to protect our bodies from the cold roof and the cold wind, and a few old pillows for comfort. We lay down, cuddled in as best we could, and looked up. Sonja held my hand. Her eyes were filled with stars. Lake Mendota was still fully frozen, and even from way up here, we could hear the tympanic bows and deep cracking of the ice—a cold, lonely sound. We could also hear the music from several dorm parties and the sound of young men running outside, playing testosterone-fueled games in the dark.
After a bit, Sonja Blomgren rolled toward me, resting her cheekbone on her knuckles.
“My father had this mad idea,” Sonja said, her eyes still pointed upward toward the sky and not looking at me. She ran her fingertips along my cheek absently, as though her skin was memorizing my skin. “After my mother dragoned. He brought me to my grandparents’ house on the south shore of Lake Superior and told me that he wasn’t going to say goodbye because he would be back, and he would bring my mother with him, and then all of us would live together. Maybe on an island in the lake. My grandparents gave him their blessing to go find their daughter, but they thought he was nuts. And he was. He thought we could maybe live on one of the lighthouse islands or just in a cabin with the big lake on one side and thick woods on the other. And Mom could just be a dragon and do her dragony things, and I could just be a little girl with both of her parents who both loved her, and he would fish or hunt or grow our food and we would all be happy. It was ridiculous. First off, he couldn’t fish. He was too impatient and far too squeamish. He had never hunted in his life. Same problem. And the only garden we ever had was just a square of dirt and weeds. He couldn’t even grow asparagus, which is the easiest thing in the world. My dad was a carpenter, not a pioneer. Second off, my mom left for a reason. She didn’t say goodbye to me and she didn’t say goodbye to her parents and she certainly didn’t say goodbye to my father. It’s hard for me to accept that, but I know it’s true. And, what’s more, she hasn’t come back for a reason.”
She sat up. She kept her gaze on the sky. There was a slick of tears curving along her bottom lids. Her eyelashes had tiny ice crystals adhered to each strand, flashing in the low light. My cheeks were hot. My lips were hot. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t say anything. I knew I should say something. But my mouth was full of ashes.
Sonja bit her lower lip. “That day when all the girls changed? I was at a slumber party. Me and five other girls. My friend’s parents were at a wedding and we had the house to ourselves, so obviously we all helped ourselves to the liquor cabinet. We went outside in our skivvies and lay out on the lawn chairs and looked at the sky. My head was muddled. I kissed my friend Joanne, like a real kiss, and she lay next to me on the lawn chair, her skin pressed against my skin, her hand in my hand, and it was the best feeling in the whole world. We watched the sky for over an hour. And then, very suddenly, she told me she was sorry. She stood.” Sonja’s voice trembled. She took in a quick breath, as though stifling a sob. “And then she changed. Everyone changed. I watched them fly away, one after another, and I stood in the backyard alone. It was one of the loneliest days of my life. My friends all changed. All of them. They left me behind.”
Above our heads, the stars glinted and burned. I reached my arm under Sonja’s back and held her close.
I found my voice. “A long time ago, before she dragoned, my aunt told me all women are magic. She told me that we all hear the call and that some people answer and some don’t. But I don’t know. I was there that night at prom. I watched how happy they were. And those girls changed. We were all dancing together and it felt so good to be dancing all together, and then their eyes changed and their mouths changed and they stepped out of their skin and they went away. And left me behind. I didn’t hear anything. Nothing called me.”
I didn’t say what I was thinking. Am I not enough? Was I not good enough? But even in that moment, I knew these were the wrong questions. Instead, I knew I needed to ask, What life will I choose? What life do I want? In my heart, I already knew the answer.
Sonja held my hands in her hands. She brought her mouth to my cheek and rested her lips there. I felt her breath. I felt her kiss. Our mouths were open and our arms wound together, like a knot. Her lips were warm. Then hot. Her skin was hot. My lips burned and my bones burned and my heart burned and burned and burned.
Oh, no, I thought. Oh, Sonja. I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight. Don’t go where I can’t follow.