shara janea

Ashland MFA Candidate

LEAVING

While she waits in the slick leather chair of her high school guidance counselor, Crystal thumbs open her device and retrieves the holographic image she’s now nearly memorized:  a brochure. MARS COLONY, it reads in large letters. Below this is a photograph of a working colony, complete with agriculturalists, engineers, and biologists, in busy clusters on the dry, red surface of Mars. 

Dr. Evans glances up from her call, smiles and winks at Crystal, mouthing the words one second before continuing her call. Two students and another counselor shuffle quietly down the hall. Crystal shifts in the chair, the squeak of leather giving away her nerves. The brochure screen is sweaty in her palms. YOUR FUTURE IS HERE, it promises. 

Dr. Evans finishes her call. Crystal looks up, bites her lip, leans back in her chair, and then edges forward again. “Have you heard from them?” she asks. 

“I have,” Dr. Evans says. She doesn’t smile this time, though. She is serious now. She picks up a large envelope and passes it to Crystal. Crystal takes the envelope. 

“On paper?” She is astonished to see the large, glossy paper. The only paper she’s ever seen was a letter the principal showed everyone in an assembly--a congratulatory letter from the White House letting them know they’d been awarded a grant. “What did they say?” 

“Open it and see.” 

Crystal runs her fingertips over the smooth surface of the envelope. She fumbles with the lip, and then pulls out the single sheet of paper from inside. She hesitates a moment before reading it, knowing the information it carries will determine her future, and she can’t tell just then which response she would prefer.  

“Go ahead,” says Dr. Evans. 

The letter is very short. “Dear Ms. Cunningham,” it begins. It is signed by the founder. His name nearly glitters at the bottom of the page. Crystal’s head swims a bit, and her eyes lose their focus. She blinks and continues reading. 

“Dear Ms. Cunningham, Congratulations, “ Crystal reads aloud. “You have been accepted to join the first graduating academy on board the UniveX colony. You will be joining the most elite group of young cadets from around the world. More information will be sent to you in the following week.”

Crystal sits, stunned. Tears well up in her eyes and then run into tiny streams down her cheeks. 

“You did it,” says Dr. Evans. 

Crystal nods her head. “It says they want me to come for a tour this Friday.” 

“We’ll set it up. Do you need a ride?” 

Crystal shakes her head. “Will you take me?”

“Absolutely.” Dr. Evans pauses a moment, and then asks, “Have you told your family yet?”

“No. But I will.” 

“I’ll need your mother’s permission to leave our campus. Until you turn 18 next month, this still must include your mother.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Crystal says. She folds the letter up neatly and tucks it into her pocket. “I’ll tell her today.”

Ronnie’s truck is in the driveway when Crystal and Junilee exit the old school bus with its rusting solar panels that afternoon. Crystal groans. 

“I don’t like Ronnie,” Junilee says. 

“You don’t like anybody,” says Crystal. But she knows Junilee is right about Ronnie. She is generally right about everyone. Crystal figures she’ll be fixing dinner tonight, and when she walks in, she sees she is right. Dishes are still piled in the sink, and Ronnie sits inhaling a pen on the couch with heavy eyes and slumped shoulders. He stares at the carpet, blinking slowly, but doesn’t acknowledge either of them when they walk in. Junilee peers into the refrigerator, likely hoping to find something to eat, but expresses disappointment by slamming the door shut and slinging herself dramatically into a chair. Crystal nods, knowing it will be her duty again to feed them. She digs through the cabinets, finds a box of pasta and a few old potatoes, not pre-cut, to prepare together. Their kitchen is from a bygone era, a museum of outdated appliances in a world that has passed them by. Crystal lights a stove and begins preparing their dinner in antiquity. 

“Where’s Mama?” she finally asks Ronnie. 

“In her room, bitchin’ bout somethin’, as usual,” Ronnie answers without looking up. 

Then Crystal hears her mother slam something down the hall. A few heavy footsteps later, she bursts into the living room and stands in front of Ronnie.

“Where are they?” she shouts.

“I told you, I don’t know.” Ronnie resumes his slumped posture, his empty stare. He doesn’t even look up. 

“You lying S.O.B.!” she cries. She turns, then comes back.  “You know I need them!”

“You’re a fucking pillhead,” he slurs. Crystal winces at the irony.

“You took them! You don’t even need them! I need them!” Crystal’s mother takes Ronnie by the shirt collar and shakes him. 

Ronnie attempts to stand now, perhaps escape, but can’t. 

“You lying, stealing cheat!” 

Crystal switches the noise off in her head as cleanly as a light on a wall. She stands squarely in front of Junilee to block her view and squeezes her hands. Junilee clenches her jaw, mutters aggressively under her breath, and shifts her feet. Junilee doesn’t know how to flip the switch, and Crystal doesn’t know how to teach her. 

“You remember what I told you about Mars?” Crystal asks.

Junilee looks past her, watching her mother. Crystal shifts to again block her view. She forces Junilee’s gaze to meet her own, knowing if she can just get Junilee’s mind on something else, she can get her out of the house. 

“Remember what I said about Mars, Juni?”

“That you can’t see it?” Junilee asks. 

“That you usually can’t see it, but not this year, right? This year you can see it!.” 

Junilee nods. 

“I want you to go try to see Mars, okay? I’m gonna finish cookin’ supper, and then I’m gonna bring it out there to you, okay?”

Junilee looks past Crystal at her mama. Ronnie has risen from the couch. His chin is nearly touching Mama’s forehead. One hand is balled into a fist, and the other points an angry finger that jabs, jabs, jabs Mama’s shoulder every time he spits another nasty word.
“Mama’s okay, Juni.” Crystal lies. “You know they’ll stop in a minute. I think they just need somethin’ to eat.  I’ll cook everybody some supper, and we’ll all calm right down, okay? Junilee, you go on out and find Mars, okay?”

“Mars isn’t usually visible,” Junilee says. 

“I know it’s not.”

“But this year is different.”

“Go on and check.” 

Junilee walks out the door to find Mars in the vast sky. 

Crystal turns back toward her mother just in time to see Ronnie’s fist connect with Mama’s nose. Mama falls backward in slow motion and topples over the arm of the couch. Ronnie stands over her and shouts, beer in hand, until he loses his balance and leans on the nearby lamp for support. 

Crystal does not know her body is moving until she has crossed the room. She leaps onto Ronnie’s back like a wildcat seeking blood, and he falls face-forward into the cushions of the couch and yowls as she slaps him with fist and nail and open palm, and it’s Mama who finally pulls her off. 

“Crystal, stop!” she yells. 

“Don’t you touch her again!” Crystal screams into Ronnie’s face. 

“You little bitch!” says Ronnie. 

Crystal turns to her mother. “Make him leave, Mama! Please!”

Crystal and her mother look into each other’s eyes for what feels like years. 

“You need to control that girl.” Ronnie spits saliva as he talks. 

“Get out of here,” Mama says to Crystal. 

“Mama.” 

“Go start dinner and stay out of our business.”

Crystal does as she’s told and walks away.

“I’m so glad your mother approved,” says Dr. Evans, saving Crystal’s forged permission form into her device. “Are you ready?”

“I mean, as ready as I’m ever gonna be.” Crystal shrugs and steps out of Dr. Evans’ car. 

The UniveX campus sprawls across the rural Georgia landscape like an alien craft landed in a cornfield. Each building sparkles in white marble and chrome. Huge hangers loom in the distance. UTVs zoom silently along the ground. Soaring above the campus, a large digital clock stands counting down the time until the next launch. Fifteen days, six hours, thirty-two minutes, sixteen seconds, it reads. Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve.

Crystal takes a deep breath and exhales. Her heart pounds. She hadn’t been certain before this moment that she really wanted to go to Mars, but now her heart beats in time with the seconds counting down until her departure. She quickens her step into the main building.

“Wait right here. Captain Weaver will be with you in just a moment,” a receptionist tells them. 

Crystal and Dr. Evans exchange a look and squeeze each other’s hands. 

A moment later, Captain Weaver strides into the room, shakes Crystal’s hand, and says to her, “Welcome to UniveX. We’re pleased to have you on board. I’m going to be your guide today. Dr. Evans, I presume? Let’s get started.”

The captain shows them each facility in turn, where Crystal will stay in the few days before the launch, where she will eat, and where she will exercise. 

“The restrooms and sleeping quarters are all common areas,” the captain explains. “You’ll be sharing those with your colleagues.”

Dr. Evans appears embarrassed. “Is it true that all the new recruits will be female? Or . . . or will there be males sharing these rooms as well?” She glances nervously at Crystal. 

“All cadets share the same living spaces here,” says the captain. “There’s no gender in space.” 

Dr. Evans looks doubtful. 

“Living conditions that Crystal should be more concerned with include germicidal irradiation, cosmic radiation, and pressure. Your brief training will cover mostly these issues. The pressure can be especially difficult to manage, particularly in entry. There’s other kinds of pressures, as well. Pressures that require steel resolve and a clear mind.” She stops walking and steadies her gaze at Crystal. “Cadets must have a certain temperament. They must be able to keep cool under pressure.” 

Crystal squirms under her scrutiny. She knows. Of course she knows. What kind of fool— 

“I’d actually like to speak more on this with you. In private, if that’s okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“But first, let’s have a look at the cafetorium, shall we?” and the captain resumes her clip and gracious air. 

“What kinds of meals will they be eating on the colony?” asked Dr. Evans as they stroll on. 

“Pretty much anything we eat here on Earth,” the captain answers. “We employ professional chefs to work on the colony, trained in some of the finest schools here on Earth.” 

“There’s no culinary training on the Mars colony?” Crystal asks. 

“No, not for many more years, anyway. Only Science and Engineering for now.” 

After touring the cafetorium and the recreation center, the captain beckons toward a side door marked RESTRICTED. “May we have that private chat now, Crystal?” 

Crystal looks to Dr. Evans. She, too, knows what this is about, but she smiles in reassurance and motions her forward. Crystal follows Captain Weaver through the door and finds a clean, white sitting area on the other side. 

“Please, have a seat.” 

Crystal sits. She wrings her hands. 

“Something came up in your background check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Will you please tell me about the incident regarding a young man named Stacy Varnell?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She considers where to begin. She searches for the right words.

“I have a sister, Junilee. She has this condition called Asperger’s. Well, they don’t really call it Asperger’s anymore. They call it the spectrum, but it’s Asperger’s. I mean, it’s real specific, seems like. What I mean is she’s real smart. She’s, very intelligent, that is, but she isn’t socially intelligent. She says things to people sometimes that are rude or maybe even sound mean. But she doesn’t mean it to sound rude or mean. She just doesn’t know how to talk to people. And it gets her in trouble.” Crystal looks at Captain Weaver. “It got me in trouble.” 

“Go on.” 

“Stacey Varnell rides the bus with us. He’s always looking for someone to bully. He just looks for reasons. Well, Juni was sittin there on the bus one day--this was back in November.” She looks up again at Captain Weaver who sits listening without movement. “You know that, though.” 

Captain Weaver nods. 

“So Juni was sittin’ there, and Stacy got on, and he had a shiner right on his eye. Looked like somebody’d punched him hard. All the other kids started hollerin’ when he got on: ‘Who’d you whoop, Stacy?’ they all wanted to know. ‘Bet you whipped him good,’ they all said. And Stacy played along. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said. ‘I kicked his ass. Won’t ever run his mouth to me again.’ 

“Well, Juni didn’t know to play along, and she sure didn’t know to keep quiet. She wanted to join in, but what she said was, ‘It was your dad, Stacy. My mama told me he hits you all the time.’ And that shut everybody up fast.” Crystal pauses. 

“And then what happened?” the captain asks. 

“And then he grabbed Junilee by the hair. He twisted a handful of it in his fist, and balled the other fist up like he was gonna hit her.” She pauses again. 

“I bet that upset you. What did you do?” 

“I jumped on him,” said Crystal. 

“And you hit him?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And there was a situation before that, I believe. In third grade. Will you tell me about that?’ 

Crystal blinks. She searches her memory. Third grade? What happened in third grade? How far back did these people search into her history? 

“There was a boy named John.” 

“Yes. Please tell me about John.” 

“Oh, wow. Okay. He pulled my hair on the merry-go-round. He wouldn’t let go. I asked him to stop, but he wouldn’t.” Crystal understands the pattern now. “I hit him.” 

Captain Weaver audibly sighs. “Like I said, cadets must have a certain temperament. They must be able to keep their cool in the most trying conditions.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Did she also know about Ronnie? 

“You’re a remarkable young lady, Crystal.” 

“Yes, ma’am?” Crystal isn’t sure how to take this compliment, but she sorely wants to be polite. 

“You are. You’ve not been given even half the advantages the other cadets have been given. You’ve grown up in one of the most impoverished counties in this nation, been educated in one of the lowest-performing schools, been raised— ” the captain clears her throat, “you’ve been raised in a very rural area, Crystal, with no special allowances at all. And yet. Look at you. You are remarkable.” 

Crystal dares not look up from the ground now, but whispers, “Thank you.” 

“You’ve been selected to join the most exclusive mission for the most elite aeronautics company in the world.” She waits for Crystal’s eyes to meet her own. “The only thing that could prevent you from joining us at the launch is your temper.” 

Crystal nods. 

“You must stay out of trouble, Crystal. No more incidents. You must control your temper.” 

The alarm sounds and Crystal rolls over. Two weeks left. She only needs to complete her senior finals and survive the next two weeks. She rolls onto the floor as gently as possible, so as not to disturb her sister with the harsh bounce of the air mattress. Gently, gently, she moves each leg, her middle, and then her chest from the inflated bed and stands. Bleary-eyed, unable to see properly, she stumbles across the room and out into a narrow hallway. 

No one but her is awake at that hour, and she is not surprised. At least she has the bathroom to herself. Sharing this tiny room with three others is impossible, especially when one of them spreads himself so wide and occupies so much space. She brushes her teeth, washes her face, straightens her hair. In the kitchen, she pours a bowl of cereal, and eats quickly. Now she hears her mother moving about. 

“Mornin, hon,” her mother says, robe wound tightly around her middle, vape pen already on. 

“Morning, Mama,” she returns. Crystal watches her mother closely for a moment. Stooped a bit at the shoulders, stiff joints, pinched face. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine her young and beautiful. It’s hard to imagine her as anything different than she is now. 

 “Is your sister up?” Mama asks.

 “No, but I’ll get her up in a minute,” she says.

 “Well, that’s all right,” says Mama, “I told her she didn’t have to go.”

“Why wouldn’t she have to go?”

“Cause she don’t like school like you do, Crystal. And she don’t like ridin’ the bus with that Stacy boy. She says he’s mean to her.” 

“Well, she has to go to school. What’s she gonna do, just live here with you forever? And that jerk, Stacy, isn’t bothering her anymore. I made sure of it.”

“Yeah, you damn near put yourself in a jail cell, too.”  

Crystal winces at this. “She’s going to school,” she says, ending the conversation. Then she balances her empty bowl atop the dish pile already in the sink, makes her way back down the narrow hallway, and crouching low, nudges her sister awake. 

Junilee groans. “I’m not going to school today,” she says, turning over and burying her face into the pillow. 

“Bullshit. Get up.” 

A pile of laundry is lying on the floor beside the air mattress. Crystal pulls a shirt and a pair of pants out of a pile and tosses them onto the mattress for her sister. 

“Mama said I didn’t have to go today. I asked her last night.”Junilee says.

“I don’t care what Mama said. Get up.”

 She locks eyes with her sister. A brief moment passes. Junilee deflates and stands up from the bed, defeated. 

“I hate school.” She growls as they wait for the bus together. “And I hate the bus, too.”

“Junie, you have to go to school.” Crystal places her hands on her shoulders. You just have to. You gonna live in this trailer your whole life?”

“I don’t care,” Junie says. “I don’t mind livin’ with Mama.”

“Yeah. That’s a great idea.” Crystal looks out across the fields, the sun just beginning to lighten the sky. Two small deer stand next to one another—a doe and her fawn. Nearby, a neighbor’s dog is chained to a tree. The dog spots them and growls menacingly. The doe steps between the dog and her fawn, and then both deer dart away. Crystal watches the doe retreat. “Look, I know you don’t understand yet, but you will.”

As Junilee readies herself in the bathroom, Crystal approaches her mother in the kitchen. “Mama, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, baby?” Mama turns slowly. She seems far away. 

“Sit down. Here.” Crystal slides all the stacked mail and assorted dishes from the table and pats the seat next to hers. 

Mama sits down. “You’re pregnant.” 

“What? No.” 

Mama cocks one eyebrow at Crystal like she doesn’t believe her. 

“No, Mama. Ugh, no! I’m not pregnant.” She pauses. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving where?”

“I’ve been invited to join the UniveX academy.” She waits to see if her mother understands. 

“UniveX?” Mama takes a long pause. “Well . . . isn’t that the name of those people on Mars?”

“It’s the name of the company, yes. And yes, it’s on Mars. This will be the first academy on Mars, and I--”

“And they want you?” 

“Yes. They want me. I scored in the top 3 percentile worldwide on the barrier test. That’s the final test they make all candidates take before they get final clearance. I passed a competency test before that. And before that, I aced the high school proficiency tests. It’s a big deal, Mama. I am a big deal.” 

Mama takes a long drag and exhales slowly. “You’ve been planning this for a long time.”

The smell of nicotine intertwined with something sweet upsets Crystal’s stomach. “That’s right.”

“And you’re just now telling me.” 

“That’s right.” 

“And you’re just gonna leave me and Junie here, huh? And what about when she mouths off to someone again and needs protecting?”

“I can’t always be here to protect her!” Crystal sits quietly for a moment. “And besides, I think she should go live with Aunt Beth.” 

“Over my dead body!”

“Aunt Beth loves Junie. And she’s safe.” 

“What does that mean? You sayin’ I’m not safe?”

“I’m just sayin—”

Ronnie walked into the kitchen. “You backtalkin’ your Mama, girl?”

“Ronnie, get out,” says Crystal. 

“Now, we’ve talked about this,” says her mother, “Ronnie is part of our family.”

“Bullshit, he is!” Crystal stands from the table as Ronnie takes a chair to sit. 

“Young lady, I don’t like that talk.” Ronnie places his hands on his belt buckle. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Crystal stands between Ronnie and her mother now.

“Crystal! Ronnie, sit down.” Mama tries to intervene. 

“I’ll show you what I’ll do about it, girl.” Ronnie unhooks the buckle from its hole in the leather belt around his waist. 

“Ronnie, sit down, “ Mama urges him. 

Crystal steps closer.

Ronnie pulls the belt clear of his pant loops and brandishes it like a whip held high above him. With his other hand, he folds the belt in half and snaps it, cracking the air like lightning across a grey sky. 

“You won’t touch me,” says Crystal.

Mama is between them now. “Now, Ronnie.” 

Ronnie easily pushes her aside, into the sink, and moves toward Crystal. Crystal steels her body, squares her shoulders, bends at the knee. She is ready.

And then Junilee is there. Between them. Ronnie swings, and it’s Junilee that he hits. Crystal explodes, gun powder from a musket. Words are muddled. All the sound in the room travels through a long tunnel of time and space, never quite reaching anyone. Only light exists now, refracted into slices--arms and fists and twisted mouths under garnet blood, the momentum of bodies colliding. And as sound returns, it’s the meat of Ronnie’s cheek against his toothy jaw that Crystal hears first. And then her mother’s pleading. And then Junilee’s cries, and it’s Junilee that finally brings Crystal to stop herself. 

When the police arrive, Crystal does not speak. She does not resist. She does not look up into the sky to find Mars. She knows she won’t be able to find it.

SHARA JANEA IS A WRITER, TEACHER, AND MOTHER WHO LIVES IN CLEVELAND, TENNESSEE. SHE IS CURRENTLY PURSUING AN MFA IN FICTION AT ASHLAND UNIVERSITY. HER NONFICTION WORK HAS BEEN PUBLISHED IN CATALPA MAGAZINE.