Page 142 of Mazywood

Imani hated knowing her mother was in pain, which was worse than seeing her cry. She unzipped the black pouch in her backpack and found the packet of Extra-Strength Tylenol. Two oblong white pills. (Again, Imani was furious with herself for forgetting to pack water bottles.) Mom fumbled with the pills.

“Why didn’t it eat us?” Imani said, her voice low. “Mom… there’s bones everywhere. Not here—but outside in the cavern. Bones from years ago, probably. Like it collects them, maybe to keep them out of sight? But it didn’t even bite us. And then? When it was dragging me here? It didn’t hurt at all! It was like—”

“Shhhhh,” Mom said. “Calm down, Imani.”

“… It felt like it was almost… hugging me.”

Mom’s grip tightened. “We can’t assume anything, Imani. We just don’t know.”

That was exactly what Imani had expected Mom to say. Imani was used to no one believing her. That was why she often didn’t share her perceptions outside of her head. It was aggravating when no one believed you, as if they didn’t consider you to be a real person.

Mom swallowed the pills dry with much effort, then she went on. “But… when it came in here and you heard me screaming… it wrapped itself around me, like you said. I didn’t think of it like a hug, but… I was shaking so much from the cold. And when it… hugged me…”

“… It was warm inside!” Imani finished. “Was it trying to warm you up?”

“Stop making assumptions, Imani,” Mom said. “Yes, I got warm. And then after a few minutes… it left again without hurting me. But we can’t afford to guess. Why would it try to warm me up? Maybe it was just trying to keep me quiet. I was calling to you for help.”

“But Mom, that’s supersmart!” Imani said. She couldn’t help the way her voice rose. “What other animal would do that? When I talked to it, it was like…”

Mom looked up at Imani with a sudden realization in her eyes. “Like it understood you?”

“Yes!” Imani said. This time, her voice was nearly a shout. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth, remembering that she shouldn’t be so loud.

But she had no doubt that the Beast knew exactly where she was. This was its home, after all. This space looked like its literal bed.

For the first time, Imani swept her flashlight around to better examine the Beast’s nest. Her beam landed on a small pile of newspaper pages. Her head spun with the idea that the Beast was collecting newspapers so meticulously when Mom said, “I’ve been putting the papers in a pile. Imani… they’re all about Johnny’s grandmother.”

The direct beam of Imani’s flashlight was overpowering up close, so she shifted it slightly to better read a headline in a laminated newspaper page featuring a large photo of a young Black girl and a white dog.

LITTLE MAZY & SCOUT THE WONDER DOG SIGN HISTORIC DEAL!!!

The headline was so big, with so many exclamation points, that it could have been announcing an alien invasion. But Imani couldn’t look away from the little girl in the photo. Just like the portrait in the hallway back at the lodge, Mazelle looked so much like Mom in her old school photos. Not identical—but like they could be sisters. Their noses. Their eyes.

A realization gnawed at the edge of Imani’s consciousness. She swept her flashlight back to Mom, who covered her eyes. With Mom’s arm raised, Imani could see the red robe and fur sleeve underneath the shiny emergency blanket. Mazelle Washington’s robe. And Mom was wearing her perfume. Imani could still smell it faintly, not quite pleasant. An antique smell.

“What’s that dirty green thing you’re wearing?” Imani asked.

“An old evening gown,” Mom said. “I think this was Mazelle’s too. It’s been bringing her things in here. It’s probably from the lodge. Papers. Clothes. Her shoes. I think it’s all hers.”

Imani’s explosive revelation made the room feel as bright as daylight. She wrapped her hands around her mother’s, which already felt warm from the small pouch she had brought her.

“Mom,” Imani said, remembering to whisper in her ear. “Dad said she was feeding this thing when it was smaller. Those steaks I found in her refrigerator? Maybe it was her pet, just like Scout the Wonder Dog back in the day. What if it thinks you’re her?”

Mom stared back at Imani with wonder-filled eyes.

As if she had thought the exact same thing.

Thirty-Six

BEAR CREEK LODGE

DECEMBER 1980

THE PAIN WAS WORSE AT the end of the day, an ever-louder drumbeat she could feel for two hours before the nurse gave her the next dose of meds. A growing hot coal inside her flesh. Mazelle was grateful when the clouds of confusion and sluggishness lifted slightly like a rising curtain, allowing her to peek backstage at life’s indulgences, sometimes giving her enough clarity to eat a piece of the Mr. Goodbar on her nightstand or turn on her cassette player to listen to the Duke Ellington cassette Ricky had bought her, aptly titled Masterpieces.

Music, as Mazelle always had suspected, was her truest and most enduring joy.

“Mood Indigo.” “Sophisticated Lady.” “Solitude.” “Vagabonds.” Classic Ellington reminded her of the concerts she’d attended with Mother and Dottie when she was with Richard. The bitter pain she’d feared Richard would stamp her with was trivial in the end, overpowered by the joy of the music. Hell, Richard wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her, no matter how rough his hands or which names he had called her. It was worth a flash of remembering his slaps and sloppy grunts to escape to memories of concert halls and the bright pealing of live horns.