“Somewhere up there is a pink moon,” Morris declared.
Sonja
glanced at the sky, but the dark clouds blanked out everything, including the
moon and stars. And had for as long as she could remember. “How do you
know it’s pink?”
“Well, this
is April, right?”
“Yeah.”
They followed the homemade calendar almost religiously so everyone would know what
day it was, as well as the month and the year.
“My mother
told me it’s named after the phlox.”
“A fox?”
He
chuckled. “No. A phlox. It’s a pink flower that used to bloom in the spring.”
Sonja
sighed. “I’d love to see a real flower again. I’d be happy with an artificial
one that I can hold in my hand.” They both glanced at her pale fingers that
rested on top of his. He opened his fingers, and they laced them together.
“Maybe one
day we’ll find one…or the other.”
Several
minutes passed as they continued to stare into the darkness shrouding their
world. A darkness that brightened only slightly when night turned into day. But
at least during the daytime they didn’t need lanterns or candles to find their
way around.
A brisk
wind picked up, hurling snowflakes at them. Sonja drew her coat tighter around
her as he slipped an arm across her shoulders for a sideways hug.
“Does this
moon have other names?” she asked after a while. They spoke in hushed tones,
for fear of attracting the unwanted. He knew they shouldn’t be outside after
dark, anyway. But tonight had been so tempting. The storm that had enveloped
their little community had raged for eleven days, finally letting up in the wee
hours before morning. Morris knew that if there was going to be a “safe” time
to go topside for some fresh air, it would have to be now. Otherwise, it could
be days before they could venture above again.
“Oh, yeah,”
he admitted. “Momma said it was also called the Hare Moon, or the Egg Moon.”
“Let me
guess. For Easter, right?”
“I think
so. Yeah. I’m not certain, but that sounds about right.”
They
remained huddled together for another couple of minutes, when he decided they’d
been outside long enough. He was about to tell his wife it was time to go below
when she squeezed his hand.
“Morris, do
you think we’ll ever see the moon again?”
“I dunno,
honey. Maybe. Who knows?”
“Do you
think it’ll ever be safe enough to come up top and stay here, instead of having
to keep living underground?”
He stared
at her. At the way her face glowed from the radiation. He knew…she knew…they
all knew that living to a ripe old age was no longer obtainable. And hadn’t
been since the bombs fell years ago. If anyone reached their forties these
days, it was a miracle. So if anyone found someone they could spend those few
short years with, they were blessed beyond measure.
“Like I was
blessed to have found you,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair
back underneath her knit cap.
“What?”
“I feel so
lucky to have you fall in love with me.”
She smiled.
She had just a few teeth left, but it didn’t matter. She would always be
beautiful to him.
“I think we
need to go back inside.”
She nodded
in answer. “Maybe I’ll try some of that soup again,” she whispered. “I think
I’ll be able to keep a little of it down this time.”
“I hope
so.” He helped her to her feet, and they left the small deck that was normally
used as a watchtower during the day.
“Oh, and
Morris?” She paused at the edge of the hatchway and turned to face him. “Thank
you for telling me about the pink moon.”
“You’re
welcome.”
“Does it
ever show up as another color later in the year?”
He made a
face as he thought back to his childhood. “There’s a strawberry moon in June. I
don’t remember if it’s called that for the fruit or the color. I remember the
pink moon because it was Mom’s favorite color.”
“What about
a blue moon? I thought I heard someone mention a blue moon a long time ago.”
“It’s not
really blue. In fact, the moon never turns the color associated with it. A blue
moon is what people call it if there’s a second full moon in one month.” He chuckled.
“Those are rare, which is why people sometimes used to say an event happened
once in a blue moon.”
She smiled
again. “If we’re lucky, we can look for the strawberry moon when June comes.”
Morris
fought the tears. If we’re lucky.
If we’re both still alive.
“It’s a date, sweetheart. I
promise.” Even if only one of them managed to survive until then, he knew the
one who survived would be sure to keep their word.
Sonja
stepped onto the ladder, grasping the rungs with her thin hands, and slowly
descended back inside the sewers that had been their home for the past six
years. Taking one last look up into the blanketed sky, he followed her down.
