Chapter 4: Secrets in the Symbols
Zilly sighed, a weight seemingly lifted with her exhalation. It wasn't just about not knowing what to say about Jia’s mother that hadn’t been said already; it was the unspoken agreement between them that the recent turbulence—Parker's thoughtless act included—paled compared to the magnitude of loss Jia faced. Once a source of tension, the incident now seemed trivial, an unnecessary distraction from the grief and rebuilding that lay ahead.
Or maybe it was because the air had evaporated from the room after she’d come over to hang out and play music. But after a few half-hearted attempts to play a song or two, they put the instruments away and lay on the bed beside each other.
Inseparable since meeting in fifth grade, Jia and Zilly had connected over crazy-colored hair, funky anti-fashionable clothes like Doc Martens shoes, torn black leggings, beat-up leather jackets, faded rock and roll t-shirts, and late seventies punk music like Elvis Costello, the Clash, Talking Heads, the Sex Pistols, and the Ramones. How often had they bounced around the bedroom to Blitzkrieg Bop and Psycho Killer? Sure, they had their moments and flashes of anger at each other, who doesn’t, and with Jia’s mom now gone and Zilly’s mom spending her days at the bottom of a bottle, more than ever, they viewed each other as ports in a storm.
Neither spoke for several moments until suddenly, as if in some secret sync like friends sometimes are, they both broke at once.
“Jia—”
“Zilly—”
They both laughed.
“Parker’s a dork, you know,” Jia said.
“Hey, I didn’t make him do anything!”
“I know; I just can’t believe he tried to come between us. What was he thinking?”
“I know, I know, what he did was stupid—”
“Well, he should apologize.”
“Yeah, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“Like you said—”
“—he’s a dork, I know. Exactly.”
“But you still like him.”
“I don’t know. I mean, he’s cute, in a sort of weird way—”
“And he listens, I know, you said that.”
“But he acts before thinking.”
“I don’t want to talk to him until he says he’s sorry.”
“Yeah, me either.”
Jia turned towards Zilly, and Jia turned inward as well. Their faces were only a few inches apart.
“Friends?”
“Of course,” Jia said.
Jia felt something swelling up from the inside. She hadn’t let her emotions all the way out since her mother had died. But, now that she couldn’t even find her way through to sit at a keyboard and play music — the one thing that was more important than anything, the activity that she felt was her home, the thing she could always do — she finally couldn’t hold back anymore. She reached out and embraced Zilly in a tight hug, sobbing silently as Zilly gently stroked her hair.
After several moments, Jia pulled back slowly and said, “Did I ever tell you about my dog?”
“Dog? You had a dog? When? Obviously, you were very young because I’ve known you half your life, and you’ve never mentioned a dog.”
“Well, it wasn’t a real dog—it was—something from my imagination. But she was real. I mean, I don’t know how to describe her, except that when I was very young, like two or so, I started playing with her all the time. She was a constant companion. She saved my ass a few times along the way,” Jia laughed softly.
“But she’s gone now?”
“Yeah. I suppose I outgrew her. Except—”
“Except what?”
“I’ve been thinking about her, and I feel like she’s sort of nosing around things, like she’ll return.”
“But if she’s imaginary, all you have to do is imagine that she’s returning, right?”
Another laugh. “I don’t think it’s that simple…but still…maybe you’re right.”
They let the conversation lapse into a few moments of silence. Zilly finally put her hand on Jia’s arms and said, “Hey, Jia, can I look at your amulet?”
“Uhm, yeah, why?”
“You know, everything. You haven’t told me the story other than it came from your mother, and it was handed down for a thousand years. I was just interested. You know what a nerd I am with old languages and shit.”
“And you think I’m not telling you the whole story.”
“Well, duh. I know you, silly; I can read you like a book. There’s something more there. I can tell.”
Jia thought momentarily, then removed the amulet and handed it to Zilly, its cool metal sending a shiver down her spine. As Zilly’s fingers brushed against the etchings, a faint, barely perceptible hum whispered against Jia's skin.
Zilly leaned closer, her eyes tracing the fine lines of the etching on Jia's amulet.
“What do these symbols mean?' Zilly asked.
“I don’t know,” Jia admitted, “but Mom said they were ancient, older than any language we know. Sometimes, I think they’re the key to... something bigger.”
“There’s something about these symbols,” Zilly murmured, almost to herself. “See how they catch the light? It's like they're almost... moving. Any idea what it means?”
“I have no clue,” Jia said, peering closely at the markings. “They are strangely beautiful, though.”
Zilly squinted at the amulet. “Some of these symbols look almost Celtic, but others... I swear they remind me of Korean art I’ve seen. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
Another shrug. “I suppose. But—I’ve been a little busy. And besides, the only person who could tell me what it means is—dead.” Jia swallowed.
“Yeah,” Zilly’s voice was quiet. “I know. Sorry. It’s just that this really fascinates me.”
Zilly held it close under the desk lamp. “Do you mind if I take a photo? I want to show it to my Uncle Michael.”
“He’s the ancient language professor at State, right, where you got your language nerd thing from?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure, why not? I guess. No reason not to.”
Zilly took several photos of the amulet with her phone, as close-up and detailed as possible, before returning it to Jia and standing up. She began to pick up her belongings.
“You going? You just got here.”
“Yeah, sorry, but Kevin will be home soon.”
“Yeah.”
Zilly buttoned up her bass guitar case and tucked it in the closet. “We’ll get the band going. I know it.”
“Yeah.”
They locked eyes.
“Life sucks.”
“Yeah. Then ya die.”
Another hug, and Zilly was gone.
