Under the Bali Moon

“She should be talking about not taking it at all,” Lisa said.

“Why would you say that? After all she’s done?”

“That’s your dream, Zena. Not Zola’s.” Lisa stood to pour herself the last remaining cup of coffee from her electronic carafe.

“It’s her dream, too. She finished law school and now she’s set for the Bar. She’s going to be an attorney.” Zena looked at her mother sipping her coffee and grinning at her. “What? If she’s not a lawyer, what will she be? What could she be?”

“Who the he

ll knows. Maybe Alton’s wife?” Lisa laughed.

“I can’t deal with you right now!” Zena stood and reached for her purse.

“Oh, you’re going to run off now that I don’t agree with everything you’re saying?” Lisa said.

“I’m not running. I’m just frustrated. It’s like in the last twenty-four hours all of this crazy stuff is happening. And I came here hoping you’d talk some sense into Zola, but it’s like, as usual, you’re on her side.”

“I’m on no one’s side. I just want peace. And I’m hoping to make you see Zola’s side.”

“Zola’s side?” Zena laughed sarcastically. “Let me see—Zola’s side includes eloping to Bali when the Exam is right around the corner. Zola’s side includes getting married just when she’s about to begin her career. I know all about Zola’s side, Mommy. I thought you’d see my side just this once.”

Four eyes rolled, and Zena whisked out of the house in a way that was too common for her mother to be moved. Before Zena was in her car, Lisa had lit a new cigarette and was searching the kitchen table for the television remote. Maury Povich would be on in twenty minutes.

Zena made an aggressive right turn out of her mother’s driveway—a turn away from Adan’s old house. Her thoughts concocted a scenario where Adan was standing in his parents’ front yard waiting for her to drive by. What did he want to say? Why had he asked about her? She gripped the head of the steering wheel and looked out the rearview window. The car slowed as she searched, deciding where he wasn’t, which cars weren’t his, which shadows in the bushes couldn’t be his. Her emotions bullied her into forcing all thoughts of him away, so she resolved to snap herself back to “normal,” but before she could refocus a glance to the driver’s side door, her thoughts took her back—way back—to a memory that had taken place in that very location she was passing—the corner of Sassafras Street and Blue Stone Road.

It was junior year of high school. Zena and Adan were walking home from school. The dented Nissan Maxima Adan’s parents got him when he turned sixteen was in the shop again, and while his best friend, Hakeem, volunteered to drive them home, Zena wanted to walk. She never minded walking home, not with Adan anyway. They could talk, really talk, about things in the world, things nobody else ever talked about, not at their school anyway. The longer she’d been around Adan she was learning that this was something that separated him from anyone she knew—he could talk about anything and seemed to know everything. And not in an annoying way, either. He was humble and charming. One afternoon, the two were walking hand in hand debating the possibility of love at first sight, a new concept Zena had encountered in a romance novel she found in the library at school. Zena said no, true love wasn’t possible, and was completely dominating the conversation for a long while as Adan listened quietly, nodding from time to time. “It’s ridiculous. Impossible. You can’t love someone after seeing them just one time. Like one time?” Zena posed. “Like looking at someone doesn’t let you know who they really are. They could be a horrible person. A liar. A killer. Right?”

Adan nodded again in acknowledgment of Zena’s comment. “You just don’t know someone. Like sometimes, I don’t think you ever really know anyone. But definitely not from first sight. You don’t know them enough to love them,” Zena went on.

“But...” Adan began slowly before pausing to gather his ideas. “But, what if it is possible? Like if it does happen for some people?”

Zena looked at Adan as if he’d gone crazy. “What kinds of people?”

Adan shrugged. “I don’t know. Just, some people. Like, maybe us.”

Zena laughed at the idea. “Us? You and me? Love at first sight?” She laughed again, though something in her stomach flipped the way it had when they’d met when her bicycle chain popped.

“Yes, us.”

Adan let go of Zena’s hand and took a few steps ahead of her so he could turn and face her. “You don’t think we were love at first sight? You’re saying you didn’t feel anything when you first saw me? Nothing?”

Zena stopped walking and bit the inside of her upper lip to stop herself from smiling. She had felt something when she first laid eyes on Adan. But “love”? Was it love? Zena looked up at the street signs: Sassafras Street and Blue Stone Road. She readjusted her purse on her shoulder—Adan was carrying both of their book bags. Looking up at the signs, she said, “I did feel something.”

Adan reached out and caught ahold of one of her hands. “Me, too. I felt something, too,” he admitted.

The hold Zena had on her upper lip failed, and a huge smile was produced on her face, one that was so big, it almost hurt her cheeks.

“What? What’s so funny?” Adan asked. Standing there in his Aeropostale sweatshirt and with his and Zena’s fake matching Benetton knapsacks hanging from his back, Adan looked so nervous, as if he was starting a conversation he’d never wanted to have.

“Nothing. I’m not laughing. I’m just smiling. Smiling and wondering,” Zena said.

“Wondering what?”

“I’m wondering if you’re saying you love me. If we’re in love,” Zena said.

Just then everything went black. The sky first and then everything around Zena and Adan went to shadows as if night had come from nowhere. Adan grabbed Zena’s hand—not as if he was scared, but just automatically, as if it had been his first instinct to hold on to her, to protect her. “What’s happening?” she asked, spinning around. It was just three-fifteen in the afternoon but no one was outside in their neighborhood. Not one dog was barking. No cars were speeding by in the road blasting music. It was dark and quiet.

“I don’t know,” Adan answered, turning, too. At some point, while he was holding Zena’s hand, the two were back-to-back surveying their surroundings. It was the year 2000, and cell phones hadn’t become a thing yet. The only way they could get anyone’s attention was to scream. But something told them not to. Something told them everything was fine. Adan looked up at the sky. That’s when he saw it. The moon—right in broad daylight. “Look,” was all he said.