The Moon Between us

Elena woke up freezing. Not the kind of cold that came from sleeping beneath an open window or forgetting to turn off the fan. This cold came from somewhere deeper, settling beneath her skin until even her fingertips felt numb. She stared at the ceiling for several seconds, waiting for it to pass. 6:17 a.m. Her alarm was still five minutes away. She slowly pulled the blanket closer to her chin and closed her eyes again. Her heart was beating too fast now, despite the fact that she hadn't moved. This again. She knew the feeling. It had been happening for years. Sometimes it came as a sudden chill. Sometimes heat. Sometimes her hearing became so sharp that ordinary sounds seemed painfully close. Once, when she was sixteen, she'd been able to hear her mother's heartbeat from across the room. She had never told anyone about that one. Not even her parents. There had been enough hospital visits already. Elena pushed herself upright. The room looked normal. Her desk sat beneath the window, crowded with notebooks and things she had promised herself she would organize. A half-empty bottle of water stood beside her laptop. Her internship clothes were hanging from the back of her chair, ready for her first day. Nothing was wrong. Nothing ever was. At least, according to the doctors. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and waited until the dizziness passed before standing. Her feet touched the cold floor. The strange sensation disappeared. Just like that. Elena frowned Her phone began vibrating on the bedside table. She glanced at the screen. Noah. Of course. She picked it up. "You know normal people sleep before their first day at work, right?" "Normal people don't have an internship at eight in the morning," Noah replied. Elena smiled despite herself. "That's not how internships work." "It should be." "You called me." "I know." "So why are you complaining about being awake?" There was a pause. "Because I wanted to make sure you were awake." "I'm awake." "You're lying." She looked toward the clock. 6:21. "How would you even know?" "I've known you long enough." Elena rolled her eyes and got out of bed. Noah laughed quietly on the other end. "You're nervous." "I'm not." "You are." "I'm really not." "Elena." She reached for the clothes on her chair. "Noah." "Fine. You're not nervous." "Thank you." "You're terrified." She laughed. "Goodbye, Noah." "Wait." "What?" "Do you want me to pick you up?" "No." "I wasn't finished." "You were going to offer." "I was going to say I can bring breakfast." She hesitated. "That's bribery." "That's friendship." "You just want an excuse to see whether I'm actually nervous." "That too." Elena shook her head. "Bring the food." "I knew you'd agree." The call ended. She stood there for a moment, phone still in her hand. Then her eyes moved toward the mirror. For a second, she didn't recognize the girl looking back at her. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Her face looked paler than usual. She touched her cheek. The cold was gone now, but something about her reflection bothered her. She turned away. "Get it together." She dressed quickly. As she pulled her shirt over her head, something caught against the fabric beneath it. The necklace. Elena reached under her shirt and pulled the chain free. The pendant rested against her palm. It was old. Silver, though the surface had darkened with age. A strange symbol had been carved into the center, something she had never been able to identify. She had owned it for as long as she could remember. Her parents had told her it was the only thing she had been found with when they took her in as a baby. She never asked many questions about that. Elena slipped the pendant back beneath her clothes and tucked the chain securely away. Then she grabbed her bag. Downstairs, Grace was already in the kitchen. "You're early." Elena glanced at the clock. "I'm late." "You have forty minutes." "Exactly." Her mother smiled. "First-day nerves?" "No." Grace raised an eyebrow. Elena sighed. "Maybe a little." "That's normal." Grace placed a plate on the table. "Eat." Elena sat. Her mother watched her for a moment. Elena noticed. "What?" "Nothing." "You did the face." "What face?" "The worried mother face." Grace smiled faintly. "I don't have a worried mother face." "You absolutely do." Grace sat opposite her. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Grace reached across the table and touched Elena's hand. "Are you feeling all right?" Elena looked down at their hands. "I'm fine. "Cold again?" Elena's fingers tightened slightly. "Just for a few minutes." Grace's expression changed. "You should tell me when it happens." "You already know." "I know it happens. That doesn't mean I know when." Elena looked away. "There's nothing the doctors can do." "I know." "So there's no point worrying." Grace's thumb moved across the back of Elena's hand. "That doesn't mean I won't." Elena smiled. "I'm okay, Mum." Grace nodded, but she didn't look convinced. Outside, a car horn sounded. Noah. Elena grabbed her bag. "I have to go." Grace watched her head toward the door. "Elena." She turned. "Good luck." Elena smiled. "Thanks." She stepped outside. The morning air was cool. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and walked toward the gate. Noah's car was parked across the street. He leaned against the driver's door, holding two cups of coffee. "You look nervous," he said. Elena stopped. "I hate you." "No, you don't." He held out one of the cups. She took it. "Thank you." "I accept apologies in cash." "Get in the car." He grinned. Elena opened the passenger door. Neither of them noticed the dark SUV parked farther down the street. Neither noticed the man sitting behind its tinted window. He had been watching the house for several minutes. His attention followed Elena until the car disappeared around the corner. Only then did he reach for his phone. "I found her." A pause. His expression tightened. "No. I'm certain." He looked down at the photograph in his hand. It was old. The edges had been worn soft from years of being handled. In the photograph, a young woman stood beside a man, holding a baby in her arms. The baby was too young to remember the face staring down at her. But the man watching the photograph remembered. He had been told that child died twenty-two years ago. Apparently, someone had been wrong.