Waiting for the Moon

It would work.

She hadn't seen God in a lifetime, and she missed him. Every time the door opened, she turned, hoping? praying?to see her god, but he hadn't been back in days. Not since she'd been so bad. So stupid.

She felt better today than she had yesterday, and yesterday had been better than the day before. The tube was gone now from her throat, and the fiery pain had gone with it. Even the headaches were less frequent. She finally felt ready to try the horrid tests again.

She turned slightly and stared up at the square glass box above her bed, trying to remember what it was called.

Window. The word came suddenly, and she smiled. Golden light streamed through the glass and brushed her face, as soft and warm as God's touch. She reveled in the feel of it, the smell of it. Tiny green leaves fluttered against the glass, tapping when the breeze was just right. She wondered what the leaves smelled like, what they felt like, how they hung against the glass without

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falling down. Her gaze slipped downward. She stared, mesmerized, at the millions of motes of dust that danced in the thick sunlight, wishing she could reach out and touch them, taste them.

Everything she saw amazed her, sparked a dozen unvoiced questions. There was only that thin sheet of glass separating her from some glorious world out there, a place where leaves hung suspended as if by magic, where great puffy white shapes drifted through a blue, blue sky, where tiny winged creatures sang and chattered. A magical world lay just beyond her reach, just through the closed oak slab of her bedroom door.

She was sure of it, and soon?maybe even today? God would take her by the arm and show her the marvels of this place.

Be good. Be . .. smart.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember words, any words, anything that would impress her golden god and make him smile down at her. Before, she'd failed him. Today she was determined to do better. The answers were inside her mind, locked up somewhere in a vault she couldn't quite open. But they were there. She knew it.

Leaves . . . window. Every minute, she was improving.

Suddenly the door swung open. "Well hello there, Selena," God said, strolling into her bedroom. The strangers shuffled in behind him, lined up against the wall.

Her heart lurched at the sound of his voice. Today, she told herself. Today she would be smart enough.

She turned to look at him. Click, click, click went his bootheels on the floor. Tap, tap, tap, his pen on the silver metal bookcase?no, tray?in his hands.

She did her best to beam up at him, though her face was still so swollen, it was difficult, and it hurt to move her jaw.

He set the tray down with a clank on the green table

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beside her bed and sat down beside her. "Good morning, Selena."

She began to hear the rhythm in his voice, the way he breathed between certain patterns of sound. Two words. Good ... morning.

Good ... morning ... It was a greeting. She looked up at him, wanting so badly to impress him. She concentrated very keenly, thinking the word over and over again. "M ... morning." She finally managed the single word, and disappointment washed through her. He'd said two words to her, two, and she couldn't remember the other one now, couldn't return the greeting.

He gave her a disappointed look, and she realized that he thought she'd simply repeated his word. How could she let him know that she'd understood? She frowned, searching for the words she needed and finding none.

"Today we're going to take the bandages off, Selena. Did Edith tell you that?"

He was speaking too quickly. Helplessly she stared up at him.

"It's okay, don't worry. It's okay to be confused. Normal. I'm not going to give you any more tests yet."

Confused. The word registered. "Yes. Con . . . fused," she croaked.

She saw the pleasant surprise in his eyes and was proud. He had understood her.

He picked up a pair of pants?no, something else, something silver and sharp?from the tray and very gently began to cut away her bandages. Snip, snip, snip. The layers and layers of linen fell away, became a blurry heap beside his feet.

He touched her chin, gently turned her face to the side. "The fracture is healing nicely, as is the bruising on your face. Soon we'll know what you look like. Yes, very nice . . ."

Nice. She understood nice. He liked her. "Thank