Dark Destiny by Avelyn Paige

Delilah

“Mom,you have to hit the camera button on the bottom of the screen,” I repeat for the second time since we connected our video call. You’d think after many years of video chatting every Saturday night, she’d have figured it out by now, but here we are again—same issue every week.

“Lilah, honey, I don’t see it,” her southern voice rambles behind the black screen. “Oh, wait. There it is.” Within seconds, her face pops up on the screen with the kitchen in the background. Mom’s gray hair is plaited around the crown of her head, and tendrils of curls frame her face. Her tan skin glows against the dark blue floral dress she’s wearing, with a chunky beaded necklace. “There’s my favorite child.”

“I’m your only child, Mom,” I remind her with a soft laugh.

“You can still be my favorite.”

“Whatever you say.” I roll my eyes. “How was the Rainbow gathering?”

“It was groovy. Great music, good people, great vibes. One of the best gatherings they’ve had in a long while. Moon and Raymond were able to come. It was so great catching up with them. It’s been years since they moved on from the commune.” She rattles on and on about her friends, giving me every single detail of the conversations they had, down to what they were wearing and what they ate.

“Mom?”

“And then Moon tells me that she and Raymond found this cute little RV park up for sale. But of course, how could they afford that…”

“Mom!”

“What?” she snaps.

“I’m glad you had fun with Moon and Raymond, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t hear you ask a question.” That’s because she didn’t even give me a chance to ask it before going off on one of her tangents.

“How did Dad do with his booth? Did they like it?”

“You know your dad has primo weed, honey,” she giggles, winking. “But yes, your dad’s new strain was a big hit. He sold out the first day.”

“Bet he liked that.” Dad’s newest enterprise since California legalized marijuana is cultivating it himself for his own personal use, and to help bring in a little money for the upkeep of the camp. A pseudo job, but I’d never call it that to his face. Working for the man and all that.

“He loved it, but you know him. He’d rather smoke it than sell it, but we can’t keep the lights on without it.”

My parents aren’t exactly what you would call “role models.” I grew up in a hippie commune with a dozen other families just like mine. The founder, Jeff, had turned his family’s old church campground into a mecca for hippies like my parents, who wanted an easy lifestyle without the outside world pressuring them to conform. Each family was assigned a cabin, and everyone took turns helping in the garden, cooking, or doing the chores. After Jeff passed away seven years ago, he left everything to my parents, and they took over as the caretakers, keeping true to their way of life.

“Where is Dad?”

“Outside, playing with his plants. He should be in anytime.” Mom’s eyes grow wide at something behind me. “Lilah, honey, did you get a new cat?”

Turning, I spy my latest foster fail, Peony. A flame-tipped Siamese that had been living at the rescue for the last year after being found in an abandoned home.

“Sort of.” I shrug. “She was floundering, living inside a cage, so I brought her out here as a trial run.”

“Trial run, huh? How long has that trial run been exactly?”

“Four months… But she really is doing well out here, Mom. She’s really come out of her shell.”

“Lilah, honey, you live in a small enough space as it is. You can’t just keep moving in animals.”

“I know, but I promise, she’s it until I find a bigger place.” I’d been saving up to put a tiny home on the property, but between the operating expenses for the rescue, and the local zoning board giving me grief about wanting to put something more permanent on a business property, I put my new house on the back burner for the time being.

“How many do you have now?”

“Four…”

“Four? You live in our old van, baby. You barely have enough room for yourself. Four animals are too much.”

She’s right. There’s barely enough room for me, but these animals were extenuating circumstances. Well, that’s what I keep telling myself. At least the other three were on the smaller side. Pepper and Salt were two baby bunnies I was still bottle feeding during the night, and Wasabi, a bald parakeet. They need me.

“I’m making it work,” I lie with a smile.

“Making it work and making it a home are two different things. What happens when you meet a man? He’s going to take one look at that place and run.”

“Mom,” I groan.

“I’m not getting any younger, baby. Your dad and I want to be grandparents before we get too old.” Here we go again—the baby speech.

“I’m twenty-eight. I have time.”

“Well, maybe I don’t. You need to put yourself out there more.”

“Maybe I already have,” I blurt out, instantly regretting it when I see how quickly Mom’s face lights up with curiosity.

“Tell me everything.” She leans forward, propping her elbows up on the table and resting her chin in her hands, like she’s my best gal pal, and I’m about to dish out the juiciest gossip on a reality TV show.

“There’s not a lot to tell, Mom. It’s new.”

“Well, what’s he like? What does he do for a living?”

“He’s, uh, um…,” I stammer. “It’s a bit complicated.”

Her face falls. “He’s not married, is he?”

“Mom, no. Absolutely not.” Shit. I don’t know that for sure. He very well could be. It’s not like that’s written in his case file. He could have an entire family that I have no idea exists, and he’s just flirting with me because I’m there. What in the hell am I doing? “His name is Rhett.”

“Rhett,” she repeats slowly. “I like it. It’s a strong name. How did you meet him?”

“He’s a volunteer with one of my outreach programs.” Or participant, but now isn’t the time to mention that he’s actually an inmate. She doesn’t need all the details... yet. “I’ve been training him.”

“Training? Is that what kids call sex these days?” she snickers.

“Oh. My. God. Mom, no. We’re not talking about sex. I’m training him for work. Like I said, it’s still new. I’m not even sure it’s going to get off the ground.” Or out of the jail. If I could facepalm myself without alerting Mom, I would. It sounds so ridiculous, talking about him like he’s my boyfriend, because he’s not, and he never will be.

“New or not, it’s good to see you dipping your toes into the water, baby. I say go for it. Let your freak flag fly and see what happens.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I had definitely made a mistake telling her about Rhett Darby and our non-existent relationship.

“Don’t act like that. This is the first guy you’ve brought up since, oh… what was that boy’s name? You know, the one with the crooked teeth and big glasses?” She mimics with her hands, trying to give me visual aids for what she’s trying to explain.

“Robert Burnside? Mom, that was fifteen years ago. I was thirteen. How do you even remember that?”

“A mother never forgets her little girl’s first love.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He wasn’t my first love. He was the boy who chased me around the commune, calling me names and throwing mud at me. The guy was a pest. “I’ve dated plenty of other guys since then. I’m not a nun, Mom.” Plenty, meaning a grand total of three. After being dumped by the guy I had dated all throughout college three weeks before graduation and moving in together via an email, I realized then and there that maybe it was time I lived life for myself and figure out what I wanted to do. Turns out, my path was running an animal rescue and acquiring massive amounts of debt while living in my parent’s old van. #lifegoals?

“None of which you’ve ever introduced to your dad and I, honey. If they aren’t meet the parents’ material, do they really count?”

“Seriously, I don’t have time to date.” Well, in Rhett’s case, I have all the time in the world. You know, jail and all that. A loud crash from behind Mom pulls her attention away from the screen. “What’s that?” she asks behind her.

Dad’s muffled voice replies through the background, “My new strain. I crossed White Widow and Sour Diesel. More relaxing and twice the energy. It’s going to be a hit with the local college kids during exam week.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why is it in the house?”

“One of the kids broke out a window in the greenhouse, and I didn’t want them to get too cold tonight. I have twelve more pots outside.”

“You are not bringing those in this house.” They argue for a bit before Dad notices me on the screen.

“Why didn’t you tell me Delilah called? Hi, honey!” He steps closer to the screen and shoves a small pot of baby marijuana plants into the camera’s lens, taking up the whole screen. “Look at my new plants.”

“They look great, Dad,” I lie. The plants move out of the camera’s view and are replaced by my dad’s face. His big, bushy beard is more peppery than the last time we’d chatted. But being almost sixty years old, it’s a surprise he’s not already a cotton top.

“You look tired. Do I need to send you something to relax?”

I wipe my hand across my face. “It’s not legal here, Dad. You know that.” Not that I would play puff puff pass. I tried it a few times, but it really wasn’t for me.

“It should be legal everywhere!” he exclaims, proceeding to go on a tirade about how the man is pulling us all down, and that the weed should be free to the people. I listen for fifteen minutes as he argues his points to a non-existent lecture room. Mom adds in her own points as he paces between her in the kitchen.

“Hey, I’ve gotta go. I need to do food and water checks before I head to bed.” Dad just continues on. “Hey, Mom! Dad! I need to log off. Can you still hear me?”

Neither one of them notices as I shut the lid to my laptop and sigh out loud. Why couldn’t I have been born into a normal family?