Eyes Ever to the Sky (A Sci Fi Romance) (The Sky Trilogy) by Katie French

look up. “Nice, honey.”
    “From a boy named Ben.” Cece watched Mama carefully.
    “ Yeah,” Mama lit another Marlboro with the flick of a gas station lighter. The smell of butane and carcinogens spiked the air.
    God, this was getting her nowhere. She decided to go for it. “Beatriz's son, Ben. Aunt Beatriz.” She gripped the couch and waited.
    Mama sat bolt upright, her eyes flaring open. “Beatriz? My sister Beatriz?”
    Cece nodded, biting her lip.
    Mama's face tightened, lines deepening around her smoker's mouth. “What he want? Money?”
    “ Just to reconnect,” Cece lied. She pulled at fuzzies on the afghan, a blush heating up her cheeks. “Mama, what happened with Beatriz? Why don't we ever see them or Abuelo?”
    Anger flared in Mama's eyes. She swung her legs around to the front and stood. She started pacing and cursing in Spanish.
    Cece held her hands up. “Slow down. I can't understand you.”
    “ What I said,” she turned, her finger pointed, “is that I don't want you talking to them ever again. They'll infect this familia with their lies. They'll tell you things about me that are not true. I won't let them torture me again.” Mama walked to the kitchen counter and slammed her palms down.
    “ Relax, relax,” Cece said, sliding up behind her. She was expecting a reaction. She was not expecting this. Agitation could set off mood swings and push Mama into a manic phase. “I won't talk to them. If they call, I'll just hang up.” The lie felt thick in her throat.
    Mama walked back to the couch, muttering in Spanish. Cece turned toward the bathroom, rubbing at a smudge of chocolate on her forearm. If that was the reaction she got when she asked Mama about her family, she'd need figure out another way to learn what she needed to know.
    Inside the bathroom she pulled off her stained work shirt and looked at the splotches already marring its once pristine surface. She pulled the sink plunger and turned on the faucet. She’d hand-wash the t-shirt here, let it dry on the porch tonight and pray to God that no bird took its morning constitutional on it. 
    She pulled open the cabinet door where Mama kept the little bottle of laundry soap. When she stood up, a spot of bright orange drew her eyes to the trash. Her heart began to pound as she reached in.
    The orange pill bottle was missing the white child-proof lid, but it didn’t matter. The pills were gone.
    With shaking hands she pawed through the crumpled tissues, the toothpaste tube, the maxi pad wrappers. At the bottom of the can, her fear turned into anger. She gripped the pill bottle with white knuckles, threw open the door and stomped out into the living room.
    Mama sat smoking. Cece stood in front of her, blocking the TV and held up the pill bottle.
    “ Where?!” she asked, realizing now how any second she’d burst into tears. “Where are they?”
    Mama leaned forward and peered at the bottle. “What you screaming at? Lower your voice!”
    “No, Mama!” She never yelled at Mama. She couldn't stop. “Where are your pills? What did you do with them?”
    Mama crossed her arms over her small chest. “I know what you did this morning to my cereal. I’m not taking that poison. I flushed them all. Over. Gone.”
    “No!” Tears streamed down her face. “Why? You need these!”
    Mama jutted her chin like a petulant child. “They make me feel like a dead thing. I won't take them. I’d rather die.”
    “Oh God!” Cece swiped angrily at her tears with the back of her hand.  Her eyes floated over the garbage heap they called home. Help. She needed help. “We should call Abuelo. I won't mention Beatriz. I could try to call and tell him—”
    “ Don’t you dare.” Mama sat up, the afghan falling off her lap. “I don't want you talking to anyone in that family. Got that? We take care of ourselves.” 
    “ Someone has to help us.” Tears streaked down Cece’s cheeks.
    Mama stood up and threw her arms around her daughter. “Shh, shh,