Fan Fiction

Tuesday (Completed)

by Hibiscus

Chapter 58

Sun Dance

Tuesday sat curled up in her mother’s room, looking at the woman lying on the bed. Mother. The word tasted foreign and wrong on her tongue. Thunder boomed and Ruby’s face contorted with fear. She began thrashing around in her bed. Tuesday tried to calm her down but as usual, it was as though she simply didn’t exist in her mother’s world. “Is she reliving that time?” Tuesday asked the night. The night didn’t reply but enveloped her even more closely, miscible with the darkness that lived inside of her.

Ruby began whimpering.

Tuesday called Amelie to calm her down. Feeling Amelie’s cool hand on her brow, Ruby breathed and quieted down.

Tuesday stood a bit apart, a spark of envy spiking through her chest. “It had always been like this.” Tuesday reflected.

She remembered the summer she was nine and Amelie eleven. Her grandmother had taken them on a rare outing to the beach. Ruby, Amelie, Grandmother and Tuesday. She remembered feeling the curious tingle of happiness. She had a family. Tuesday had taken pleasure from simply walking by the other three.

They had set up a spot near some trees and her grandmother had told them to go play. Ruby hearing this had demanded to go with Amelie; she had wanted to play too.

Tuesday had felt that foreign thrill of happiness shoot through her once again.

Amelie had put up a fuss, saying that she didn’t want the other kids to tease her about her crazy mother but Tuesday had said that she would take care of Ruby.

Finally, they had moved by the water’s edge to build sand castles. After five minutes though, Ruby had jumped up with glee, unrestrained delight filling her face.

“Let’s do a sun dance!” Ruby had said to Amelie, grabbing hold of her hand.

Amelie’s face had flushed a dull red with acute embarrassment. She had shrugged off Ruby’s hands and stalked off.

Tuesday remembered telling Ruby, “I’ll dance with you! I’ll do the sun dance!”

But Ruby was oblivious to Tuesday. She started dancing, jumping, bending at intervals, whooping loudly.

And Tuesday had copied her movements, uncaring about the people laughing, uncaring about the children who would see and tease her endlessly as school. She danced for a scrap of love, a second of recognition. In the end, she achieved neither.

“The woman and her invisible daughter.” Tuesday whispered as she sat by Ruby’s bed, watching her mother sleep.