Chapter 1
I can’t remember the last time I touched another person’s skin or felt the warmth of an embrace. It’s easy to miss something when you’ve had it before, but I haven’t had physical contact for so long it’s hard to remember what any of it felt like. I often catch myself staring at a person for far too long imagining myself tracing the lines illustrated on their skin and feeling the heat of their cheek on mine. It wasn’t the longing of skin that I missed though--- It was the connection it all gave me.
I haven’t had a normal life since I realized the effects touch has on me and when school was abruptly halted it was the beginning of my isolated life. Staying indoors majority of the time to avoid the possibility of physical contact, I often missed the sun. Not only am I obstructed from human contact but contact from the sun rays, contributing to my dull and unnatural paleness. If I could describe my own appearance, it would be beige--- the dullest of colors and least liked among most of society. My dark hair was clipped short just making it beneath my jawline, which is more masculine than feminine, my lips are dark and full while my eyes are small almost feline-like and bright blue. Mother says my looks come from my Greek background which she highlighted in my profoundly Greek name, Astraea.
Astraea was the emulsion of innocence and purity, highlighted as the Golden age of man. Part of me always believed she gave me the name in hopes that I’d in turn become some sort of rebirth of this egalitarian; Coincidentally so, I was a Virgo much like this presumptuous constellation. Though when she realized I was different from the other children my age she grew cold and protective, keeping me in the shadows almost wishing everyone would forget about her idiosyncratic daughter. I was called a witch, pythoness and the occasional see-er. And while I was none of these things it didn’t stop the rumors from spreading, the lies expanding and tales about the abnormal child. But like all rumors and tall tales, they died along with memories of me.
Lying in bed upside down, I let my head hang off the side while I watched the blades of the fan spin rapidly every so often wisping my hair in the air. It was surprisingly bright today in the thick of winter, the sun peeked through the window shade, its faint warmth radiating the tips of my fingers as I reached out to touch it. I hated winter days where the cold was excessively present, and clouds blocked the shining yellow star; It was bad enough I was homebound and kept from her rays, the cold only made it worse stopping the sun from entering my room. Today, however, was better. Had my calendar not been there resting on my side table I would have never guessed it was middle of December. My fingers danced in bright lines, jumping in an out of heat when the doorknob jiggled vigorously.
“Open the door Astraea!” I recognized the pitchy squawk on the other side of the door before it opened. Refusing to move from my position I continued to play with the streams of light, slightly amused with myself as I heard frustrated huffs of displeasure from behind the bleached door. “Now, Astraea!” With an irritated groan I lifted myself off the twin sized platform unlocking the door as I plopped back into satin sheets. “Did you really have to make me yell,” she asked with a raised brow. I shrugged not fully paying attention to my mother’s presence while playing with the flowing light. “Astraea!”
“What?” I let the annoyance drip off my words. It was obvious that my mother was not in the best mood today, and me acting distant towards her wasn’t helping the situation. I couldn’t help it. I felt as if I was drowning in my room, watching the outside move continuously while everything inside here was stilled. Looking back up at her with a hard expression on my face now realizing that she was flooded with stress on hers. The lines on her forehead more prominent as she scrunched her eyebrows at me in a disapproving way. “What is it mom?” She rubbed her hand across her face shifting her weight evenly between her legs.
“I need you to get dressed. Make it quick.” It was a quick and poignant, uncommon. I didn’t question it as I lifted myself off the bed.
"It isn’t Wednesday," was all I could muster up. Wednesday was the only day I was really allowed out of the house. That day I always went back to the same spot, the lake, just east of where my mom and I resided. It was the only place where the outside world never knew existed. I found the spot when I was just five years old and wander mindlessly into the woodlands and found an abandoned cottage accompanied by a dazzling lake that shimmered whenever the sun hit it just right. Spending over six hours to myself before my mother found me sinking my toes into its heated water, we sat together and named the spot “forgotten land;” forgive the unsophisticated name as I knew few words to describe such an area vastly different from the rest of Belarus.
Belarus is much different from the past countries my mother has moved us to. Looking back at my childhood we never stayed in one place for too long, but I supposed Belarus changed our nomadic lifestyle. There are days where it’s hard to displace my resentment towards my mother for uprooting the excitement and settling down in a chaotic place like Belarus, where the eyes follow us in disparagement while we walk hand and hand to go to the market. The locals hated us, and it was easy to see, yet she keeps us strapped here for reasons I never asked about. The moment I exited my room I saw our dusty suitcases being lifted out of the basement the stale smell emitting from the torn fabric. I hesitated for a moment my fingers barely leaving the silver handle of the door before letting a forced cough slip out. “What’s going on?” Mom’s head didn’t lift up, not once, as she threw bag after bags out of the basement.
“We have to go,” she pauses wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead, “You have to go somewhere.” Like a fish I opened my mouth and closed it repeatedly. Many questions filled my mind. Where am I going? Why? Will my mother be with me? Thinking of it now, I have never spent more than thirty minutes alone without my mother, excluding my little adventure in the woods. She made it her mission to always keep me attached by the hip, and while it became insufferable as I got older, the simple thought of being without her made my body run cold.
“Where are we going?” I bit down hard enough to draw little beads of blood across my lip as I waited impatiently for an answer. I couldn’t tell if she heard me precisely because she seemed to be in her own chaotic world of thought, though she could also be tuning me out knowing the answer to the question leads to a bigger question; Why?
Her hair was so disorderly. I could barely recognize her in this moment. Like a faded image of what my mother used to be. I’ve never seen her out of sorts, all I could ever remember was her controlled and calculated behavior. She was a logical woman, always planning her next move never reacting with her emotions unlike me. We were complete opposites, like day and night. She was the day, always showing people what they wanted to see, saying all the right things, everyone loved her. I was the night; my emotions ran rampant like the untamed waves crashed against the stony rocks. My mother was baffled by my sensitive an emotional being, she said it would get me in to trouble one day---giving her more reason to keep me locked down.
Finally standing up using the wall for support, she ran her slim hand through her black hair attempting to fix the nest upon her head. “I need you to throw whatever you can fit into this bag,′ she sternly pressed as she tossed it in my direction. I caught it swiftly still stunned by everything happening right now.
“But Mom where are we going?” She didn’t hesitate to respond coldly with a stare. Rolling my eyes, I gripped the bag tightly and stomped my way back to my room. Nothing made sense anymore and a part of me deep down in my gut I had a feeling, things were about to get worse from here on out. I ended up shoving several items of clothing including an assortment of blue jeans and sweatshirts--- my everyday wear--- and my worn-out converse. There were only a few other items I could fit into the bag, like hair products and hygiene products. The black bag was only but so big, so I did my best to try to fit what I thought was most important.
Nearing towards the door I take a step back and examine what used to be my room. It’s as disorderly as my mother’s hair was, and this too I can barely recognize. It already feels vacant despite us still being here. My eyes jolt to the side dresser remembering what I left behind. ”Astraea, we have to go now!” Her voice sounded frantic, and I look back at the door quickly tripping over a box of old decor from my childhood. I scrambled to get up and pulled out the drawer, turning it upside down. It was a picture that my mother thought she had gotten rid of. A picture that showed one of my favorite memories. It was me holding a fish, my mother standing next to me smiling, and my father bent down on the other side holding the fishing rod. The single memory I had left of my father was stored in between this picture frame.
Stuffing the picture into my bag I slung it over my shoulder and jolted out the door. It was clear that mother was rushing to be somewhere... or get away from someone. I sat quietly in the back of the beat-up Sedan. Words couldn’t cut through the thickness in the air---why even try? The grandiose silence separated my mother and I further apart, spreading the car out, stretching it larger than what it really is. I stared out the heavily tinted windows and watched as the signs trailed behind us growing smaller and smaller. West. We were going west, taking the E30 then the E85, then the E30 again. “You’re staying in Kobryn.” The voice was like a whisper, but I knew where it came from. “Not for too long, just until I can get you on a plane.” Everything she said was dissociated and pointed to me. Direct and ruminative. She chose her words carefully, saying everything and nothing all at once.
