(S)Kin

by Ibi Zoboi

How her smile is like the new moon, full of secrets, full of unseen and unknown magic—

but I know that she does not really care. I am just extra help— An extra pair of hands for the twins.

“I mean, the building houses many schools, but you must go to the one that takes anybody. So you’ll probably need proof of residence, which I can give you.

Wow.

Her hands are covered in rashes and Mummy would know what to do, but part of me does not want my mother to help this girl. I’m not sure I like her either.

Both rooms are large enough for each of us to have our own thoughts and dreams. But this entire house is not large enough for us to have our own magic—

“Not only do I have to find my old self in this new role, I have to make sure my husband of sixteen years still finds me attractive!”

Ugh.

“In time, your new mothering self will emerge out of your old self, and she will be even more beautiful.” Kate is like the tourists at the resorts who sit at the bars with their cocktails and problems hoping that the workers will save them from their lives.

I should know. Daniel and I got married at this place called the Hibiscus. You used to work there, right? I recognized that uniform dress from the first day I saw it on you.”

Bug eye emoji.

“Oh, this dress is from . . . a friend. I did not work there.” That is a lie. We have only worked at all the Hibiscus Resort locations— “Well, Daniel loves that place.

“Down on one knee with a cheap ring and all. And then it was his idea to have a destination wedding. I wanted somewhere else, another island all together. Or even Florida. I thought, What is it about that place? He couldn’t get enough of the Caribbean.

Seriously???

Daniel’s presence in this house is as if he is a visitor in his own home, only stepping in to see his children.

Mummy moves around Daniel as if he is some awkwardly placed furniture she is trying to avoid— but he moves around my mother as if she is something forbidden.

“I don’t know how long I can keep up with these charades, Lourdes,” Daniel whispers. “Something’s gotta give.” “Please, let me help her first. Then you can tell her the truth,” Mummy says softly.

He is both of their dads.

“Do that thing you did the other day. You put something on my skin and made it better. What was that?”

Demanding.

Is Genevieve one of us?

“Twenty years ago today,” he starts, looking down and biting his lip. His eyes are green, his hair is light brown, his skin is pale. “I fell in love with your mother.”

Eeeep.

We both didn’t know that Genevieve had been standing there, just standing there at the top of the stairs when her father excavates this truth—

He is a pillager and my mother is the scorched earth.

They owe me this moment. This nanny, this woman, this mermaid (maybe) owes me this moment.

No.no.no.

“I tried to tell you. I tried to visit you in your dreams. I tried to show you what you are. But I could not find you, until now. I found you. I found you!”

She looks down. Guilt maybe. She inhales. Truth maybe. Finally. She pulls me in for a hug like I’m some lost thing that’s been found. Finally found. And I become a storm— a torrent of rage, guilt, confusion, and relief.

Her face that has always been the moon; her face that has always been the ocean; her face that has always been the flames.

Are we an actual family, though? Especially if Kate doesn’t know what’s going on.

Kate sucks.

“Believing in stories doesn’t make them true, Daniel. Belief just gives people hope.”

Rude.

Hope is magic made real— Hope is the possibility of being something more than human—

Still, I thought I was half mermaid made from silk. Instead, I am half monster made from fire.

But nighttime eases over my world like an itchy, coarse blanket and the pain becomes worse.

The other woman in this house who, just by looking at her, just by hearing the sound of her voice, just by how she can heal me with just one touch, I know she is my mother—

“You knew all this time what I am, what I’d become, and let me believe that it was just a skin condition.”

The night lights glow against her skin, and she looks like a constellation—

And he called it love. Even while proposing to his girlfriend, he called it love. Even while marrying her at the resort where I worked, he called it love. Even as I told him I was with child, he called it love. And even when he took my child from me and said he could give her a better life, he called it love.

And tonight feels like a dead thing has been brought back to life, and its breath hangs low like the clouds,

He takes me and Mummy around to see his collections and explains to us our own story as if we don’t live it every day, every night, and every new moon—

Mansplainer.

And I am night and she is day. Our faces are reflections of the same earth. The sun rises on hers, the sun sets on mine—

“All this time, Mummy, you held an empty space for this other daughter? Is this why you brought us here? To be the mother you never were to me?”

And how do I build a bridge between myself and this mother who gave me away to my father; gave me away to a country she didn’t even know? A mother who is teaching me how to become a nightmare—

I gave you more than life. I gave you fulfilled dreams.”

Magic belongs to the soul and not the mind.”

Monsters are born out of monstrosity. Slavery was forced onto us. So monstrosity was forced onto us.”

“There is only consequence, Genevieve. And forgiveness. No good. No evil. Just consequences.”

She did not do anything to me other than take my mother from me; take my mother’s braiding fingers from me; take my mother’s healing hands from me.

Mummy lovingly combed through her long curly hair, and she would never do that for me because mine is short and coarse and— I am not a princess. I could never be.

we understood that vengeance is a monster that can shape-shift too; becoming envy and greed and all those emotions that come with being human.

Her skin is almost translucent and the brown freckles are like grains of sand strewn across her sunshine face.

“You call it a house, I call it my skin. Except I didn’t have a mother to let me out when it burns, until now— I don’t want it to be weird between us. You probably didn’t have to share her with anybody.”

“Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. Of course you would love that book! I can’t get Genevieve to read anything other than horror and fantasy.”

Wtf does that mean?

Today, I won’t hide from him. My skin is fine, for now. My makeup is perfect, for now. I feel normal, for now.

The night of the new moon, I will have to find my own sustenance; find my own vengeance.

because that place is a graveyard holding dead memories of a time me and Mummy had to survive—

Then I realize I have an abundance of options—a menu to choose from for the night of the new moon. Micah for calling me ugly— Madame Jean-Pierre for putting up that photo of my mother and forcing us to leave—

Vengance.