*
I don’t know when Mom came to bed but I open my eyes and it’s day and there’s a sticky arm on top of mine. I talk to her but she doesn’t take any notice. I try tickling her but she groans at me and then I don’t even want her to wake up anymore. I get down off the bed and the floor creaks. Pina is asleep on the sofa in the living room. I don’t know where Ana is. I find Grandma in the kitchen. She’s frying bacon and making everything smell like Sunday.
‘Hey, kiddo,’ she says. ‘How did you sleep?’
I tell her pretty good, but it’s a lie. The truth is I had nightmares I can’t remember anymore, and I was hot and I sweated in my mushroom T-shirt, and now that the cool air on the porch is hitting me I feel all cold in it.
‘Where are my clothes?’ I ask her.
‘They must be in the bathroom. You want hot cakes?’
‘Yes.’
‘I can do you a hot cake in the shape of something? What shape do you want?’
Hm, I think about it. I want to ask her for something difficult but not too difficult.
‘Can you do a tree with its children but the children aren’t leaves like on a normal tree but more like mushrooms?’
‘A tree with little leaves that are actually mushrooms.’
‘Uh-huh, but not poisonous ones.’
‘Got it. Bacon?’
‘OK, but first I’m going to get dressed,’ I tell her, and walk off to the bathroom.
Sitting on the toilet, it occurs to me that maybe if I do a poop and then flush and run out to the yard, just maybe I’ll be able to see it passing through the pond system: one filter, then another, then another, and the water going from black to clean. I stay there for a while trying very hard but nothing comes out apart from a few wee-wees. Ana opens the door and says, ‘Your hot cakes are ready.’ I tell her she can have them because I’m not ready. She goes off all happy. Then my mom comes in. She takes her clothes off and gets in the shower with her ring around her neck because she never ever takes that off.
I ask her how come she’s grumpy if it’s Sunday and she says, ‘Because of the strident, stupendous, strificant, whatever they’re called mushrooms.’
I get mad at her for eating them without telling me, and she says the same thing Grandma said, ‘They’re just for grown-ups.’
I ask her if she got sleepy and laughed and saw things. She says she saw Chela and that she’s OK and that she says hi, but she asks me not to tell Pina. I can’t tell if she’s crying because she’s camuflashed by the steam and the shower curtain, but lately everyone’s been crying over Chela, or they get mad, or put their head between their hands. I don’t know what that letter she wrote said. Ana says that even Pina doesn’t know, but I don’t believe her. And I don’t dare ask Pina.
‘What did Chela’s letter say?’ I ask.
‘That she’s gone,’ says Mama.
‘She’s always going,’ I say.
‘It looks like this time she’s not coming back.’
‘Is that allowed? I didn’t know.’
‘You’re my Luz, my shining star, do you know that?’
I tell her I do, more or less. Then she asks me what I’m doing still on the toilet: am I sick? I explain my idea about the poop passing through the ponds and she says I can give it a try.
‘But I don’t have any poop,’ I tell her. ‘Nothing.’
She tells me to try again after breakfast. So I wipe myself and flush the chain and wash my hands standing on tiptoes and dry them too. And while I do all of that I explain to Mama about how I’m going to turn into a fish and go down to the middle of the lake to visit the Emperor Umami and make a wish for him to make me braver.
Mama goes quiet for a while. She must be thinking about my plan. But when she pokes her head around the curtain all she says is, ‘Did I wash my hair already?’