He nodded, looked down at the screen again. “?‘The name Azha translates tothe hatching place.’?” He looked at me. “So why are we learning about this particular star?”
“Something my mother told me.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize she was interested in astronomy.”
“She isn’t.” I said it like I had some idea about my mother’s interests. Like I knew her at all. “At least, not that I know of,” I added.
He watched me, waiting.
I shut my laptop, decided to try a new tactic: the truth. “She told me that Azha was her real name.”
Mark smiled. “She’s named herself after a star? I think that’s sort of lovely, don’t you?”
“I don’t think I’d call it lovely.”
“So what would you call it?”
“I don’t know, Mark. Weird? A little creepy, maybe?”
That’s not Mavis.
“She told Olivia to call her Needle Sivam, which is Mavis Eldeenbackward. When I asked her about it today, she told me she had many names but I could call her Azha. And Paul, before he left—” I paused, wondering if I dared go on. If I should tell him everything.
Mark gently closed my laptop. “Ali, your mother is very sick and on a lot of meds. She’s going to say some pretty screwy stuff. You can’t go looking for the sinister in every little thing she says or does.”
“I feel like… like she’s playing with me. Only I don’t understand the game.”
“Alison—”
“I know, I know. She’s sick. And I have a wild imagination.”
“I’m just saying, take things in context.”
I nodded.
“And my best advice right now?” Mark said. “Put away the laptop. Get some sleep. You look exhausted.” He kissed my cheek, my forehead.
“I will. I’m just going to check my email again. See if Paul got back to me. Also, I’m waiting to hear from Sarah. She was meeting with Kit and John today, asking for another six months’ extension for me, for the new book.”
“You can’t keep putting them off,” he said, lying back on his pillows, closing his eyes.
“I know,” I said. “And I’m making progress. Really.” The lie felt like a cannonball sitting in my gut. “It’s just… with my mother here, with Christmas coming and everything, it’s gonna be slow going.”
“I’m sure they’ll understand. Good night, my love,” he said, rolling over, his back to me. Within two minutes, he was snoring softly. I’d always envied his ability to fall asleep so easily, so quickly, no matter the circumstances.
I flipped open my laptop and looked down at the screen, scrolling to the next page of search results for Azha.
My fingers grew tingly and I heard a strange buzzing as I clicked on one of the links.
The world grew smaller, darker, as if I was looking at everything through a tunnel.
Surely I wasn’t understanding what I was reading. Surely this was impossible. The words seemed fuzzy and strange, as if they were written in another language, impossible to comprehend.
The buzzing got louder, seemed to be coming from everywhere: the walls, the ceiling, the floor.
It surrounded me, got closer, closer still, until I could feel it, the vibration of it.
The source of the buzz was there in bed with me, just beneath the covers, between me and Mark.
