The next morning, Mom and I had back-to-back appointments with my therapist (who was also my mom's therapist), so we decided to carpool together. We left pretty early since we had to drop off Jack at camp and fight the tail-end of Denver's morning traffic, so I was pretty drowsy and not speaking in the most coherent sentences. Mom and Jack were having a conversation while I listened to heavy rockabilly music, trying to keep myself awake while I waited for the caffeine to kick in. 

Suddenly, as I was just zoned out minding my own business, I felt a very cold, very large, splash of water against the back of my head. Instinctively, I snapped at my little brother who I assumed just threw his entire water bottle at me, but he just stared back at me like a deer in the headlights. 

"Jack, what the hell was that all about?!" I shouted. 

"Maya!" mom yelled at me, "He didn't do anything!"

"Yes he did!" I argued back as I took a handful of my soaking wet hair, "He just sprayed me with his water bottle!" 

"No he didn't! I was watching him through the mirror the whole time!" mom replied, thinking I was making something up. 

"Look!" I demanded as I held up my hair, "Jack totally did this!"

Mom and Jack both gasped when they saw just how soaked I was. I was pissed. I thought they were playing some rude prank on me, but the looks on their faces said it all. They were totally innocent and just as surprised as I was. 

There was so much water that I had to wring out my hair. In fact, it was too much water for it to have just come from my little brother's water bottle. I again turned to face my little brother, hoping he would crack under pressure and admit what he just did. Jack has always been super sensitive and has always been terrible at telling lies, just like myself and Mom. But, Jack didn't admit to doing anything. In fact, he even showed me it was impossible for him to spray water out of his water bottle. I told him to give it to me, and I also tried to get water to spray out of the water bottle, but nothing came out, not even air. It was one of those water bottles that are made in such a way that it's impossible to squeeze anything out of them. We were all baffled. 

Even stranger, when I reached back to see if I could feel another water source, the back of my seat was completely dry, including the headrest, which would've been directly in the line of fire had my brother actually drenched me with water. I was completely and utterly baffled. However, I felt a sense of relief knowing two other people witnessed everything.

While Mom walked Jack into his sports camp building, I tore the car apart looking for anything that could've sprayed me with freezing water. I found a pair of pink running shoes, a handful of receipts, a bag containing a yoga mat, and a few other items. But I didn't find anything that could explain away the whole water incident that had just happened minutes before. When Mom returned, I just had to shoot her a look, and it said it all.

"I-I can't explain it." I stuttered, "Everything's bone dry. There's no water bottles or anything else containing even a trace of water anywhere. Also, the seat and back of the center console is completely dry. I'm stumped. I don't know what to think." 

I got back into the front passenger seat while Mom got behind the wheel, and I continued, "What the hell was it? I can't come up with an explanation."

Mom smirked a little bit as she pulled up to a stop light, "I think it was a demon."

"A de- what? No! There's no such thing." I scowled, "You know I don't believe in that crap!" 

"Be careful now." Mom warned a little sarcastically, "It might still be here with us." 

"Alright. If that's the case, I want it to-"

"Don't challenge it!" Mom suddenly snapped, much more seriously this time, "Just pray it away. Ready? I'll lead."

"That's about as absurd as praying the gay away..." I mumbled to myself. 

"What did you say?" mom yelped. 

"Nothing..." I sighed, "You just do your little prayer. I've got nothin' against it. Whatever makes you feel better."

"Ok! Repeat after me! In the name of Jesus Christ!" Mom began, but I kept my mouth shut. 

"Say it!" Mom commanded, "In the name of Jesus Christ, I command this demon to leave this car at once!" 

Again, I kept my mouth shut. 

"Maya! Say it!" 

"Absolutely not." I growled, "If there's really power in the name of God, you saying it should've taken care of the problem by now. I don't need to say crap."

After a few more attempts to get me to say her demon-banishing prayer, Mom stopped trying. I wasn't going to say it. It felt really silly to say such a thing. I wanted to know exactly what sprayed me with water, but I wasn't about to attribute it to a demon out of all things. In my mind at the time, that was as absurd as blaming the tooth fairy for disappearing loose change. But, if my mom wanted to believe in demons, and believe that one can cast that demon back to hell just by mentioning the name of Jesus, I wasn't going to say anything. Her belief wasn't hurting anyone.

However, I was planning on mentioning everything to my therapist, but in what I considered a much more logical and reasonable light than "a demon did it". I didn't care if she had a PhD in Theology. My therapist had a PhD in Psychology too! Clearly, Mom and I were just suffering from some shared psychological delusion, and not a fucking haunting straight out of the Poltergeist movies, and my therapist ought to recognize the symptoms right away. At least, I sincerely hoped we weren't experiencing actual paranormal activity. That would just be another nail jammed into the already-sealed coffin containing my atheism.