“I remember
“This big, bad guy?”
“
Cookie sat back in astonishment.
“He said my name. Or what I thought was my name.”
She inhaled a breath of realization. “He called you Dutch.”
“Yes, but how? How could he possibly have known?”
“Hon, I’m still working on the day-you-were-born thing.”
“Right, sorry. But could you hurry up and get over it? I have questions.”
Her expression turned dubious. “Got any other astonishing tidbits to impart?”
With a shrug, I said, “Not really. Unless you count the fact that I’ve known every language ever spoken since that whole day-I-was-born thing. That’s probably worthy of note.”
I was tired, so I couldn’t be completely positive, but I had the distinct feeling Cookie seized.
CHAPTER 10
Don’t fear the reaper. Just be very, very aware of her.
“So, I look up and there he is.”
Cookie held a piece of popcorn at her lips as she listened to my tale, her eyes wide with astonishment. Or possibly primal, bone-chilling fear. It was hard to tell at that point. “The Big Bad,” she said.
“Right, but you can call him Bad for short. Anywho, he’s standing there just watching and I’m all naked and covered in afterbirth — though that didn’t really register at the time. I just remember being mesmerized by him. He seemed to be in a constant state of fluid motion.”
“Like smoke.”
“Like smoke,” I said as I snatched the buttery morsel out of her hand and popped it into my mouth. “You snooze, you lose,
“Do you remember anything before him?” she asked as she reached for another piece, only to hold it in limbo at her mouth as well. I was trying not to crack up and break the spell.
“Not so much. I mean, I don’t remember being born or anything — thank the gods, ’cause that would just be gross. Just the stuff that came after. And it’s all very peach fuzzy. Except for him. And my mom.”
“Wait,” she said, holding up a finger, “your mom? But, your mom died the day you were born. You remember her?”
A slow smile slid across my face. “She was so beautiful, Cookie. She was my first … um, customer.”
“You mean—”
“Yes. She passed through me. She was light and warmth and unconditional love. I didn’t understand it at the time, but she told me she was happy to give up her life so that I could live. She made me feel calm and cherished, which was a good thing, ’cause Bad was kind of freaking me out.”
Her gaze slid past me as she processed what I’d said. “That’s … that’s…”
“Impossible to believe, I know.”
“Amazing.” She looked at me then.
The relief that flooded my body couldn’t be helped. I should have known she’d believe me. But people I’d grown up with, people I was closest to, never believed the being-born thing.
“So, you kind of got to know your mom in a way, right?”
“I did.” And as I grew older, I realized it was more than a lot of kids got. I would be forever grateful for those few moments we had together.
“And you know every language that’s ever been spoken on Earth?”
Thankful for the change in subject, I replied, “Every single one.”
“Even Farsi?”
“Even Farsi,” I said with a grin.
“Oh, my goodness!” she almost shouted. A thought must’ve popped into her brain. Then her features changed, darkened, and she pointed an accusative finger at me. “I knew it. I knew you understood what that Vietnamese man said to me that day in the market. I could see it in your eyes.”
I smiled and looked back at Reyes’s image, fell into him. “He said he liked your ass.”
She gasped. “Why, that little perv.”
“Told you he had the hots for you.”
“Too bad he was small enough to fit into my cleavage.”
“I think that’s why he liked you,” I said, a bubble of laughter slipping out.
Cookie sat silent a long while after that. I gave her some time to absorb everything I was telling her. After a moment, she asked, “How is it even possible?”
“Well,” I said, deciding to tease her, “I don’t think he could’ve actually fit in your cleavage. Though I’m sure he would have enjoyed the challenge.”
“No, I mean the language thing. It’s just so—”
“Freakishly cool?” I asked, my voice hopeful.
“—mind-boggling.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.”
“And you understood what people were saying to you on the day you were born?”
With my nose crinkling in thought, I said, “Kind of. Not literally, however. I had no schema, no past to relate the words to, no meaning to process it with. When people spoke to me, I understood them on a visceral level. Oddly enough, I talked and walked and did everything else at a normal rate. But when anyone talks to me, I understand them. No matter what language they’re speaking. I just know what they’re saying.”
I nudged my mouse when the screen saver popped up, forced the image back to Reyes. “I understood the first words my father ever said to me, too,” I continued, trying to disguise the sadness in my voice. “For the most part anyway. He told me my mother had died.”
Cookie shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“I think my dad knew. I think he knew I understood him. It was like our little secret.” I grabbed a handful of popcorn and tossed a piece into my mouth. “Then he married my stepmother, and everything changed. She figured out pretty quick I was a freak. It all started when I got hooked on Mexican soap operas.”
“Charley, you’re not a freak.”
“It’s okay. I can’t blame her.”
“Yes, you can,” she said, her voice suddenly honed to a razor’s edge. “I’m a mother, too. Mothers don’t do that, step or otherwise.”
“Yeah, but Amber wasn’t born a grim reaper.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s your stepmother. Period. It’s not like you became a serial killer.”
God, I loved having someone on my side. My dad had always loved me without reservation, but he never really had my back like that. I think Cookie would have taken on the Mafia single-handedly for me. And won.
“So, the day you were born, that’s when he called you Dutch?”
“Yes.”
“Now, was this before or after your mother crossed through you?”
“After, but I just don’t get it. How did he know? I’d never realized until tonight that Bad didn’t say my actual name that day. He didn’t call me Charlotte. He’d called me Dutch, Cookie, just like Reyes did when I was in high school. How could he have known?” My mind started spinning, trying desperately to put the pieces together.
“Okay, let me ask you this,” she said, her forehead crinkling in thought. “The first time you saw Reyes, did you notice anything unusual about him?”
