The Veil

1~ Let's Go Camping

“I'm dying!” Michaela panted, and for added effect, threw herself down in the bed of decay under her feet. Sneaker-clad feet no less. Not that she didn't look cute in everything, but sneakers were so not it.

The backpack she was carrying made laying down on her back awkward, so, to comfortably sell her performance, she flipped over on her side ... and then proceeded to die.

It may have been the 138th time she’d complained since they’d set out this morning, but “this is the worst birthday ever!”

“I thought you were supposed to be dead,” her mother’s highly amused voice came from somewhere over her prone form. If she weren't dead, she would most certainly express her displeasure to her mother. Michaela was thoroughly annoyed that she could find anything funny in this situation. Though, conflictingly, the people-pleaser in her (the one she's been trying to kill for the past decade or so) found a slight thrill at being responsible for her mother’s smile. Particularly since they had been so few and far between of late.

Today was her 18th birthday. Not even a week ago, she had gotten her acceptance letter from Brown and much to her parents’ disappointment, she had wanted to wait to celebrate. She had reasonably expected to awaken to lots of hugs, kisses, and extra special spoiling this morning. She had even gone to bed early in anticipation of such an awakening.

But what did she get?

Attempted murder in the form of mosquito-ridden air and terribly unfashionable hiking shoes. Well, maybe it should just be plain murder since she was already dead.

“You're such a drama queen. You really should have tried for Juilliard,” her mother commented when Michaela hadn’t responded.

Abruptly forgetting about her act, she suddenly sat up in a huff and sent a glare her mother's way. “The fact that you don't even have the slightest bit of remorse for what's happening here, shows exactly the type of person you are Sandra.”

Sandra Keys burst out laughing at that and Michaela had to put a lot of effort into retaining her annoyance at her mother. She hadn’t made use of her mother’s given name in a while, but whenever she did, the older woman never failed to find humor in it.

To hear her tell it --- and she told it quite a lot --- Michaela had picked up the habit of using her given name instead of "Mom" whenever she had been upset about something. She had found it necessary to point out how extra clever her daughter had been to devise such a method of expressing her displeasure at the tender age of five instead of screaming, crying or any number of the more typical reactions.

Sandra also found it particularly funny that she’d never called her father by his name when she was mad at him. Though, when she’d pointed it out to Michaela, the little imp had smiled smugly and announced that her father had never done anything to make her mad.

Now, as she stared down at her child, sitting on the forest floor, she felt a pang of despair that threatened to overwhelm her, but as she’d become expert at doing these days, she forced it down beneath her smile. She hadn’t given birth to this extraordinary being that had brought her such joy for eighteen years, she’d done nothing to deserve such happiness, but she had received the gift, nonetheless, had selfishly accepted it without second thoughts. It was to be expected that her time would expire.

“Are you girls ready?”

Both women stared in the direction the question had come from. Devon Keys appeared through the shroud of branches he’d disappeared in a few minutes earlier. He’d gone to ahead of them to make sure everything was ‘ready.’

“Pappa!” Michaela whined, with the most pitiful pout and puppy eyes, stretching her hands out to her father.

“What’s wrong Sprite?” Devon asked, walking over to them with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“I hate it here. It’s hot and I’m sweating. And these sneakers are suffocating. And…and do they have venomous mosquitoes in this forest?”

Sandra scoffed, “There aren’t---”

“I think they do!” Michaela continued, her voice getting higher, “I think one, or maybe ten of them bit me. On my legs. I can’t feel them. I can’t feel my legs!”

“My poor baby,” Devon sympathized, kneeling with his back in offering. “Come on. Your old man will do the rest of the work from here.”

Sandra rolled her eyes in exasperation as she watched the pair. They were both the most ridiculous people in her life. Michaela wrapped her arms around her father’s neck and allowed him to lift her off the ground, sniffling along the way for added measure.

“Was Sandra bullying you again?” Devon asked, clearly having heard their daughter’s last statement to her mother.

“It’s okay Pappa. I know she talked you into this. You would never take me to a place like this if she hadn’t made you.”

“It was all her idea,” Devon agreed, winking at his wife as he set off in the direction of their camp.

Sandra followed behind them, smiling as she listened to their conversation. It had been like this since Michaela had been a baby. While Sandra and her daughter were extremely close, there had been an unbreakable bond between father and daughter that even she found remarkable at times. She supposed one parent always had to be the bad guy, and since her husband was quite unable to tell their daughter no, she’d naturally fallen into that role.

Over the past eighteen years, there hadn’t been many serious disagreements between parents and child, but when there had been, Michaela had always been the one to put an end to it swiftly. Sandra had worried after one such argument. Michaela had wanted to go on a trip with her friends two years ago. Both Devon and Sandra had agreed it was too dangerous without adults present. Michaela had tried numerous ways to convince her parents to change their minds, to no avail. In the days leading up to the trip, a big argument had irrupted between mother and daughter. It was the first, and last, time they’d shouted at each other. It had been such a jarring experience; Sandra had ended up crying herself to sleep in her husband’s arms that night. The next morning, the moment she’d stepped out of her room, Michaela had thrown herself into her arms and simply whispered, “I’m sorry Mom.”

Sandra had thought about the interactions she’d had with her daughter for a long time that day. She’d realized, that whenever there had been any disputes, Michaela had always been the one to give in, which was so antithesis to her character. She’d wondered if that would have been the case if Michaela hadn’t known she’d been adopted. Would she have given over to her birth parents? Had they somehow made their daughter feel like she couldn’t be her true self with them? That she wasn't allowed to displease them? That she had to be perfect?

It wasn’t in her nature to keep her feelings hidden, so Sandra had sat down with her daughter and asked her all these things.

“Why did you apologize this morning?” Sandra asked, they were standing on either side of the kitchen island, sneaking cookies and milk as a part of their nightly ritual.

Michaela grinned over the glass of milk in her hands.

“I didn’t want you to be angry anymore.”

Sandra thought about that for a while, “what about your anger?”

“Hmm… I wasn’t angry.”

“You wanted to go on the trip. Your father and I said no. You weren’t angry about that?”

She shook her head, “you and dad are pretty reasonable as far as parents go. If you said no, it’s probably for my own good right?”

“It was. It is, but why did you spend the last week trying to change our answer?”

“I just wanted to see if I could,” Michaela shrugged, “I didn’t know it would make you so mad when I kept on insisting. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. Then, after we argued, I thought you wouldn’t be mad afterwards. I always feel better when I’m done arguing, but last night…” she became silent for moment, staring down at the half-empty glass in her hand, as if she were recalling the events of the previous night. “You were crying.”

Sandra stared at her daughter for a long while, bright golden eyes, so unlike her own dark drown.

“Your father and I love you. Unconditionally. You can be angry with us, or get us angry, or sad, or disappoint us. The way we love you is never gonna change.”

The irreverent grin slipped back in place. “I know all that. Besides, it’s pretty much impossible not fall in love with a package like this. Beauty, brains, wit, humor, unending generosity and compassion, talent, bravery---”

Sandra stuffed a cookie in her mouth.

Now she watched her husband and daughter as they approached a clearing and prayed to every being who could hear her.

Please protect her. Protect her light. Protect her innocence. Protect her boundless spirit now that we can’t anymore.