Lullabies Forgotten

Las Vegas. The foil wrapper burned against Elena's thigh, a jagged scrap of evidence hidden deep in her jeans pocket.

She scrubbed her hands at the kitchen sink until the skin was raw and red, trying to wash away the smell of coffee grounds and deception. 2mg. Enough to knock out a horse, let alone an exhausted mother.

Elena dried her hands on a paper towel, forcing her breathing to slow. *In for four. Out for four.* If she went back into that living room screaming, Marcus would have her committed. He had the narrative ready: *Stress. Exhaustion. Paranoia.*

She had to be smarter. She had to be the stillness in the center of the storm.

Elena walked back into the living room. The fire was crackling behind the glass screen, casting long, dancing shadows against the snow-blind windows.

Diana was perched on the edge of the oversized beige sectional, leaning over Leo’s wheelchair. Her hand, the one that had held the Zippo, was stroking Leo’s hair with a rhythmic, hypnotic motion.

"He's settling," Diana whispered, not looking up. "I think he likes the snow. The silence."

Elena stopped behind the sofa. She watched the woman’s hand. The nails were manicured, a soft nude polish that looked expensive. Her sister used to bite her nails until they bled.

"He misses Mom," Elena said. The lie tasted like copper. Their mother had been dead for ten years, and Leo had never met her.

Diana nodded solemnly, keeping her eyes on the child. "I know. I feel her here, though. Don't you?"

"Sometimes." Elena moved around the sofa, sitting in the armchair opposite them. She needed to see Diana’s face. "He usually falls asleep to music. My playlist is on the tablet, but the battery died when the power flickered earlier."

"I can hum," Diana offered, flashing that beatific, self-sacrificing smile. "I used to hum you to sleep, remember? When Dad was shouting downstairs."

Elena’s heart hammered against her ribs. "I remember. You used to sing 'Golden Slumbers.' It was the only thing that worked."

"God, yes," Diana sighed, a wistful look glazing her eyes. "The Beatles. Mom loved Paul."

"Sing it for him," Elena said. It wasn't a request. It was a challenge wrapped in velvet.

Diana hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. Her hand paused in Leo’s hair. Then the smile returned, wider, brighter. "Of course. Anything for this little angel."

She cleared her throat softly. She leaned in close to Leo’s ear, her profile backlit by the gray daylight.

She began to hum.

The melody started low. A slow, wandering tune that tried to find its footing. Elena waited for the opening piano chords to be translated into voice. *Once there was a way...*

Diana closed her eyes, swaying slightly. She added words, crooning them in a breathy, lullaby whisper.

"Sleep little darling... close your eyes... the sun is gone... from the skies..."

Elena sat very still. Her hands gripped the armrests of her chair.

"Golden dreams... are waiting there... sleep now baby... without a care..."

The melody shifted. It wasn't the Beatles. It wasn't even a folk song. It was a generic, improvised tune, the kind people make up when they're trying to fake comfort.

Diana hummed the bridge, confident now, finding a rhythm.

Elena recognized the chord progression. It wasn't from 1969. It was the hook from a radio ballad that had been popular the summer Elena got married.

Diana opened her eyes, looking at Elena for approval, still humming, still stroking Leo’s head with the hand of a stranger.

She wasn't singing "Golden Slumbers." She was singing a pop song from ten years ago, humming over the words she didn't know.