The Bleeding Daylight

Chapter 2: Maybe this year

After that spectacle at school, the walk home helped Bia burn the pent-up energy from earlier. She loved strolling through the neighborhoods between Lillydale Collegiate and East York, where she lived. The streets were alive, peppered with culture and history, little shops that brought a happy mix to their corners.

They were climbing Jones Avenue, going home after the incident in front of the school. India had jumped on the idea of not taking Transit, but Val hadn't been so keen.

"These boots weren't made for walking." She trudged behind in a somber mood.

"You guys... I can't believe you aren't going to the Halloween party on Sunday." India held her books tight against her chest and sighed. "All the cool people are gonna be there. Michael Madsen's going."

"Then, we're not missing much." Bia stared at the homes they passed, avoiding India's questioning eyes.

The area had been all brickyards back in the early nineteen hundreds. Another piece of trivia that Bia read on the plaque of the school's atrium. Brick was still the façade and face of the neighborhood.

"What happened?" India moved her gaze between her friends.

"Tell you later." Bia's voice dropped lower. It was clear Val didn't want to talk about it yet.

"I would give anything not to go to the cottage this weekend." Val moved the conversation along. "But it's my family's annual rite of torture. I can't deny mamma-mia the pleasure."

The Palominos' end-of-summer party usually took place on the second weekend of October, Thanksgiving weekend, before closing the cottage for the Winter.

However, a remarkably warm October had changed the family's plans that year. They kept the cottage opened longer. As it was tradition, Mrs. Palomino expected everyone to show up. Not even Val's octogenarian grandmother, nonna Conti, had a choice in the matter.

"India, you know my mom..." Val mimicked her mother and threw her hands in the air with deliberate exaggeration. "If one of the children misses this weekend for any reason, it's a daytime soap opera at my house. Only Christmas can create more drama."

India turned to Bia. "Do you have to go too?"

"I'm sorry, India, but I promised mom." Bia slipped her hands in the pocket of her jeans.

Going to the party every year had also become a tradition for Bia and her mom, Sarah. The Palominos had adopted them, and they were as good as family. Mrs. Palomino was the first person Sarah met when she moved to Toronto from Montreal. Bia and Val were only two years old at the time.

"Correction..." Val moved her backpack's straps, adjusting it against her back with a determination that came through her words too. "It was your mom who promised you she'd go."

That was true. Bia worried that mom had been working too hard that fall – she was a realtor, and fall was a busy season in the housing market. Bia had convinced mom to take a break; pulling out now would give mom an excuse to skip the trip too.

"Do you not want me to go?" Bia withdrew her hands from her pockets and put them on her hips. "Because it sounds like you think I should stay for the Halloween party."

"You're right. I guess I am working against myself here. India, sorry, I need Bia there to suffer with me. Misery loves company."

"You guys suck. You're missing the event of the year." India argued that too. "Just getting invited was big. And it's because Nicole likes you, Bia."

Nicole Heather, the school's official Queen Bee, was the one throwing the party. She had the obligatory long blond hair and blue eyes, typical of Hollywood movies. Bia wouldn't call her a mean girl, per se, but that might be because Nicole had always been friendly to her. That wasn't the case for everybody else.

After Nicole stopped them outside the school with the invitation, India had said that being invited "would propel their high-school social status." Personally, Bia did not think they needed any propelling. India was different. She was shy with an unfortunate bias towards low self-esteem. Despite looking like a doll with lustrous, beautifully straight black hair and vivacious dark-brown eyes with long flipping eyelashes, she often required affirmation. Things like an invitation to Nicole's party mattered.

"Are you sure you don't wanna come to the cottage with us?" Bia hooked her arm around India's. "You wouldn't be with the cool kids behind the 'velvet ropes,' but at least you would be hanging with your best friends."

"Mother wouldn't let me go for a whole weekend. She only agreed to the party because I promised to study all Saturday and Sunday. And only because my grades so far have been good." India hugged her books tighter against her chest. "I guess I can go with Maddy and Ty to the party. I reeeaaally don't wanna miss it."

Madeline Duke and Tyler Sylvan, Nicole's best friends, had offered India a ride to the party that morning.

"I'm hungry...Walking was the worst idea. I told you these boots weren't made for walking." Val interrupted the conversation, a painful look on her face.

"Okay, let's go to the Dumpling House." Bia halted, which made her friends also break and turn towards her.

The Dumpling House, in East Chinatown, was west of the school and a staple of that neighborhood. The vibrant community was smaller than its cousin downtown, but it still occupied about three blocks each way. Streetcar rails crossed it like a snake, and fruit-and-vegetable stands dressed the sidewalks outside the stores.

"But before we go, I need to pick up a book at the Public Library." Bia started to walk again, picking up the pace. The library was two blocks away. "Then we can hop on a streetcar."

"What are you picking up?" Val hurried after her.

"Dracula... You know, the original from Bram Stoker's."

#

They arrived at the cottage at the Kawartha Lakes around seven o'clock on Friday. It was chaotic, busy, and loud like the Palominos themselves.

Bia and mom had followed the family on their own car, old and faithful. Val chose to drive with her brother Gabriel in their shared truck and keep him company. Irene and Tony Palomino, their parents, crammed into a van with the younger twins, nonna Conti and Dynamo, the dog.

Dynamo was actually Bia's pet. However, the twins, Dante and Nicholas, were so fond of the Labrador they had convinced Sarah and their mother to let the dog come along on the trip.

The minute the vehicles parked in front of the house, everyone scurried out, stretching their legs, carrying luggage and grocery bags, screaming in a delightful cacophony of sounds and movements. Alongside the barking dog, the twins ran down the hill to the dock by the lake, completely ignoring Mrs. Palomino's admonitions.

Bia picked up her jacket from the car seat to put it on over her hoodie when the damp breeze coming from the lake made her quiver. The delicious sweet whiff of pine scent from the woods wafted into her nose, though.

Fridays were purple, and she hoped they would never change. That thought made her irrationally happy all of a sudden.

"What does that even mean?" Val approached from behind.

Did she say that out loud? She didn't even realize.

"—what? You ghost... Stop scaring me like this—" Bia gave the other girl a weak smack on the arm. "I dunno. It's just something I think..."

Mrs. Palomino started to holler instructions as soon as she got off her van. "Bia and Val, you two go get the bonfire going. Tony, you're in charge of the barbecue. I won't have time for it. Sarah, darling, would you be so kind as to help me in the kitchen with the rest of the supper?"

They all got their marching orders, even the twins who moaned and complained the whole way back up the hill from the dock.

#

Two days later, on Sunday night, Bia stood alone at the edge of the hill directly ahead of the Palomino's cottage. The family buzzed inside the house cooking, playing cards, watching TV. But Mom was packing to drive back to the city that same night, which gave Bia a chance to take a last look at the view. The evergreens rolled down the hill like a blanket until they hit the lake, and their shadows slowly merged into the water.

What a difference a day makes. The clock had just fallen back an hour – the end of Daylight-Saving Time — and the mood before twilight felt utterly different. From then on, the days would be shorter and the nights longer.

A lightning bolt in the sky shook her out of her thoughts. She expected to hear thunder, but the only noise breaking the silence came from the kerfuffle inside the house.

Bia debated whether to call India. She had told Val and Bia she had decided to go to Nicole Heather's Halloween party that night even if she had to go alone. Bia had encouraged her, but deep inside, she would have much preferred India wouldn't go. A dreaded feeling stirred in the pit of her stomach.

The lightning had cooled the evening, and Bia pulled her turtleneck up over her ears. She grasped the phone with one freezing hand, and the other she tucked inside her jacket pocket.

India had just arrived at Nicole Heather's when she answered the phone, sounding very excited.

"Does it look like it's gonna rain there?" Bia asked after India told her about her ride with Maddy and Ty.

"No, why?"

"Oh... I was just wondering what it was like in the city. A minute ago, it looked like it was gonna rain here. But not now."

"The night looks clear to me." India's voice sounded rushed. "B., I literally just got here. How about I call you later... or tomorrow morning?"

"Sure. I'll talk to you tomorrow then."

When Bia hung up, melancholy washed over her, pushed forward with a force that almost knocked her off balance, and then receded...seawater being pulled back by the tide. Her eyes filled with tears—what a weird sensation.

"Praying?" Gabriel's question came from behind her. When she jumped, he added, "sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't. I was just thinking—" Bia noticed Gabriel didn't have a jacket. "Aren't you cold?"

"No. It's nineteen degrees. It's pretty comfortable. You?"

"Hmm." She was no longer cold, either. But just a second ago...

"Your mom is ready." Gabriel jutted his chin towards the cottage.

They walked back, dragging their feet in the dewy ground in the hope they could slow time. The smell of grass and the sweet scent of bergamots, which grew everywhere around the cottage, saturated the air.

After saying their goodbyes— the Palominos stayed another night— Bia and mom were on their way.

At nine o'clock on October 31, 2004, Halloween night, Bia and her mother left 122 Trout River, Cottage Country. The meteorologist on the radio said that the temperature had dropped unexpectedly, and there was a chance of freezing rain. A small chance.

#

The car slid slightly. Sarah's eyes flew towards her daughter on the passenger seat to check on her. Bia didn't seem to have noticed, softly singing along to the music coming from her iPod's earphones.

The weather had changed dramatically, midway through their trip back from the cottage to the city that Sunday night. Sarah freed one hand from the steering wheel and rubbed the nape of her neck. Her whole body tensed up from the strain of focusing on the road. It was unsettling to drive in that dreadful skin-cutting, razor-thin freezing rain.

Sarah bitterly cursed meteorologists. When she and Bia left the cottage, the forecast said precipitation was not expected, but if it happened, it wasn't going to be until early the following day. It seemed the bad weather had decided not to wait for the dawn. At least they were close to home, and her exit was coming up in about one and a half kilometer.

The windshields tried to keep up with the myriad of rain droplets running over the windows but to no avail. Their monotonous back and forth whoosh made Sarah suppress a yawn. The weekend at the cottage had been busy. Even if, at first, Sarah had thought about skipping the party because of work, she had had fun—just like Bia had prescribed.

She should have taken Irene's offer to stay over another night. The trip back during the day would have been more relaxed. Yet, because she had already missed a prime weekend for Open Houses, she convinced herself she needed to jump back into work, bright and early, the next day. But, really... All that rush to get to the city for what? Chores and more chores. Piles of paper, emails, bills, house to clean, clothes to wash...at least the dog wasn't coming back until tomorrow.

The sedating classical music coming from CBC Radio 2 floated in the car. Sarah scrolled through the dial for something more upbeat to perk her up. She found a station that played songs from the eighties and raised the volume. Madonna's voice covered the sound of the pounding rain against the windows.

Bia snapped a look at her with an annoyed teenager expression as if to say, "It's too loud. I can't hear my music." She stared back at her daughter and shrugged as if to say, "I'm sorry, but I need the noise to drive." Then they both settled back into their silence.

In the distance, a beautiful and terrifying lightning bolt illuminated the sky. A figure running across the expressway caught Sarah's eyes at the same time the thunder groaned in her ears. She supposed it was a raccoon by its size – although the city raccoons are street smart and usually know better than to run across highways.

She swerved not to hit the animal. Her gaze tried to outrun the headlights looking for a safe direction to direct the vehicle toward. When she turned, the car hit a frozen patch, sliding the other way and into traffic. Sarah twisted the steering wheel again, this time managing to move the car toward the ditch, away from the highway.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She slammed her foot down on the brake...but the car did not stop, nor it slowed down. Her eyes widened as they veered off the road.

Unintended acceleration, that's what they call it. Sarah had once read about it in the paper, "The trouble, unbelievable as it may seem, is that sudden acceleration is very often caused by drivers who press the gas pedal when they intend to press the brake." How could her mind have jumped to such a casual thought? It didn't matter. The oddity and mystery of the brain might have been what she needed. Almost automatically, her foot released the accelerator and pressed the brake.

The car bucked like a mechanical bull. She wrestled with the wheel; a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead. Sarah regained some control, but the car blew through the low vegetation. Her throat tightened when she caught a glimpse of Bia raking at the sides of the seat and the car door.

Sarah threw her arm across her daughter's body. Pray God. Take me and keep Bia safe.

With a wild sound of crushed metal, the car collided with a tree. Tiny pieces of broken glass pierced Sarah's skin. The impact of her windpipe against the steering forced a shuddered gasp out of her. Sarah shot her daughter one more glance, but the blood running down her right temple and into her eye blackened her vision.

Michael Jackson's Thriller playing on the radio cut off abruptly. She passed out.

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