NITA: Well. Actually. Before we get started, I was wondering if you had any pictures of [Coughs.] Maddie when she was a kid. Which is probably weird, but I was just, like, thinking that she must have been a really cute—
EVIE: I don’t. I don’t keep pictures.
NITA: . . . Oh. Is there, um, a reason for that?
EVIE: Yes.
[. . .]
EVIE: Did you want more coffee? You look a little . . .
NITA: Sure. That’d be good.
[4 seconds of ambient noise, persistent birdsong and rain, and the sound of coffee being poured into an old, chipped mug.]
NITA: Thanks. So—
EVIE: My husband grew up here, and even though he managed to get away to Port Townsend, he always knew he’d come back, but he put it off as long as he could. This place has a way of sinking its hooks into you.
NITA: Yeah?
EVIE: He resisted coming back for so long. It almost broke us up, to tell the truth. But he came around eventually.
NITA: Yeah. Uh. Can I just ask—
EVIE: Go ahead.
NITA: Where is, uh, Mr. Lanuza? Is he still, like, around?
EVIE: He passed on. Not long after we moved back.
[. . .]
NITA: That’s . . . I’m sorry.
EVIE: Oh, you don’t have to say that. But I think it’s what made Maddie [Coughs.] . . . I think that’s what really soured her on this town. And then the car accident with her friend. She left soon after, and I couldn’t blame her. But it’s like I said. This town gets its claws into you, and it doesn’t let go. I’m glad she’s back. I’m glad you’re here with her.
[. . .]
NITA: I’m going to see if—[Clears throat.]—if Maddie’s awake.
EVIE: Take some coffee up to her. I always loved it when my special someone did that for me.
[End of recorded material.]
Entry 19.
[Beginning of recorded material.]
[Footsteps. Birdsong. Rain on a dirt road.]
NITA: Okay, so I’m like . . . seventy-five percent sure that I’m not lost. I’m pretty sure I’m still on the road that Maddie—[Coughs.]
NITA: Fucking allergies. Anyway, the road where she had her car accident. And she was super-understanding when I told her that I wanted to see it, and agreed that it was better if I satisfied my stupid-ass curiosity by myself. Well, she didn’t say it was stupid, but in retrospect, it definitely was. ’Cause, like, I can find my way around pretty much anywhere in Chicago, even when I’m high as fuck or drunk off my ass. But apparently I can’t find my way around anywhere that’s not on a grid. And of course because it’s goddamn December, the sun is buried behind the clouds. So I don’t know if I’m headed in the right direction. And there’s something that’s just, like, hugely creepy about being surrounded by trees. I’m never leaving the city again. No wonder—[Clears throat.]—no wonder Maddie never comes back here. This is what I get for being such a—
[12 seconds of silence.]
[You’re looking for something.]
NITA: [Whispering] What the fuck—
[Maybe you found it.]
[Car engine. Tires on wet pavement.]
MALE VOICE: Hey, you want a ride?
NITA: Uh. I think I got turned around. Do you know how to get to—
[Static.]
MALE VOICE: I do. But are you sure that’s where you want to go? That’s a lonely little spot.
NITA: I think. Yeah. I mean, I just want to see it. A friend of mine, she was in an accident there—
MALE VOICE: I don’t need to know your business, miss. I’ll drop you off there and let you find your own way back.
NITA: . . . Thanks.
[. . .]
[Radio turns on; country music. Signal fades in and out of static.]
NITA: Did you know either of the girls that were in the accident?
MALE VOICE: I didn’t, no.
NITA: What about, uh, a Mr. Lanuza? He died, like, eight or nine years ago. I don’t know his first name—
MALE VOICE: Listen, miss. You should keep their names out of your mouth, okay? You’re a stranger here. Keep it that way.
[. . .]
NITA: [Faintly.] All right. Never mind, then.
MALE VOICE: That’s it, over there. Careful on the shoulder, though. It’s slippery from all the rain, and the guardrail’s on its last legs.
[Door opens.]
NITA: Thanks.
MALE VOICE: Take care. And don’t stay out here too long. It gets dark early.
NITA: Thanks, I got it.
[Door closes.]
[Static increases. Sounds like water, like wings, like song, like—]
NITA: —weird as it could have—
[Static.]
NITA: —so far to fall—
[Static.]
NITA: —waiting in the dark for—
[Static.]
[You should go.]
NITA: —should get going. It’s—
[It’s getting dark.]
NITA: Maddie’s—[Coughs.] And it’s getting dark.
[End of recorded material.]
Entry 20.
[Beginning of recorded material.]
[Voices, just on the edge of hearing. Creaking footsteps. The volume turns up, and the voices become audible.]
EVIE: I like her.
MADDIE: I like her too.
EVIE: I’m glad you found someone who’s . . . someone good. Strange but good.
[. . .]
EVIE: Aren’t you glad?
[. . .]
EVIE: Do you regret bringing her here, sweetie?
MADDIE: I wish we hadn’t come at all.
EVIE: Don’t say that, Ma—[Coughs.]
MADDIE: Mom, I’m—
EVIE: I know you wish you could have stayed longer. I tried to—I tried to help. I thought you’d have longer. It’s almost over, though.
MADDIE: She doesn’t know about—[Coughs.] About—
[Coughing intensifies.]
EVIE: Sweetheart, shhh. You don’t—
[Coughing intensifies and turns into sounds of choking.]
NITA: Oh my God—
[Footsteps.]
NITA: What’s wrong with her?
EVIE: She’s fine, she’s fine, give her some room to breathe—
NITA: Baby, it’s—
EVIE: I said to give her room. It’ll pass in a minute, as soon as she—
[Choking; retching.]
EVIE: Sweetheart, listen to me. You need to calm down. Clear your mind. There’s mud in your mind, and you need to let the river wash it clean, okay? Let the water in and let it carry that mud away, out of your mind, out of your lungs. Stop fighting it. Let it in. The water goes in, and the mud goes out. In. Out. In. Ou—
[Vomiting.]
EVIE: There you go.
[Maddie’s breathing has eased.]
[Nita is crying.]
NITA: What the fuck is . . .
EVIE: Nita, will you get some paper towels to wipe this up?
[. . .]
EVIE: Nita.
NITA: Huh?
EVIE: Get some paper towels from the kitchen.
NITA: . . . Okay.
[Footsteps.]
EVIE: There you go, honey. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. It’s almost over.
[End of recorded material.]
Entry 21.
[Beginning of recorded material.]
[44 seconds of ambient silence.]
MADDIE: Are you asleep?
NITA: No.
MADDIE: I’m sorry about what happened.
NITA: You don’t have to be. I’m just . . . God, that scared the hell out of me.
[. . .]
NITA: Where did that . . . It looked like feathers. And dirt. How did it get in your . . .
MADDIE: Don’t. Please, don’t . . .
NITA: Don’t what? What the fuck is happening? This went from fine to completely fucked up in, like, a day, and Maddie—[Coughing, so sudden and
painful that it turns into gagging.]
MADDIE: Shh, baby. Stop.
NITA: I can taste it. Dirt in my mouth. You said I’d be safe.
MADDIE: . . . You don’t have to be scared.
NITA: Like hell. You know what, fuck this. We should leave.
MADDIE: You wanted this. You wanted to know. You kept asking—
NITA: Yeah, because I’m a fucking asshole who thought solving this weird-ass mystery would make good art. I changed my mind. Let’s leave.
MADDIE: But my mom—
NITA: Your mom is not the one gagging up mud and feathers, Madd—[Coughs.] I can’t even—[Coughs.]
MADDIE: Shhh, baby, it’s fine. All right. We can go in the morning.
NITA: [Hoarse.] Now. Right now.
[. . .]
NITA: Please.
[. . .]
MADDIE: Okay, okay. Get your stuff together. I’ll tell my mom we’re—
NITA: Please, don’t. Just . . . write her a note, okay. I don’t even care about my stuff, I am so fucking scared right now—
MADDIE: All right, we can go. We’ll find somewhere to stay outside of town.
NITA: Thank you, oh my God, babe, thank you so much. I’m so sorry I even—
MADDIE: It’s okay, just . . . just pack what you can. I’ll go write my mom a note.
NITA: Okay. Okay. Yeah. I can do that.
[Footsteps.]
[A lamp clicks on.]
[. . .]
EVIE: [Whispering] Is it time?
MADDIE: I . . .
EVIE: It’s sooner than I thought it would be. But it’s not too late. That’s the important thing. We don’t want a repeat of what happened to Emily. It’s better this way.
MADDIE: Is it?
EVIE: Don’t fight it. She might still be able to get away.
[Footsteps. Rustling fabric. An embrace.]
EVIE: I love you, sweetheart. Be brave. I’ll miss you, but I know you’ll always be close now.
[Be brave.]
[The lamp clicks off. Footsteps.]
NITA: Did you write the note?
MADDIE: [Clears throat.] Yeah.
NITA: Are you . . . are you okay? Sorry, I’m so fucking freaked out I didn’t even think—
MADDIE: It’s all right. I’ll be fine in a minute. [Takes a breath. Sniffs.] Are you packed?
NITA: I can’t find my recorder. Have you seen it?
MADDIE: Maybe it’s in the car.
NITA: Why would it . . . You know what, I don’t even care. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.
MADDIE: All right. Before we go, can I just . . .
[It’s a goodbye kiss, but Nita doesn’t know that.]
NITA: Ready?
MADDIE: Yeah.
[Footsteps. A door opens and closes. The sound of night: wind slapping against wet leaves, rain hitting gravel. The car doors open and shut, and the engine turns on. So does the radio: nothing but loud, angry static.]
NITA: Fuck!
[The radio shuts off. The car shifts into gear, and then gravel crunches under the tires as they start to drive.]
[4:21 minutes of ambient noise.]
MADDIE: I’m actually grateful, you know. That I came back. That you got me to come back.
NITA: You were right. I shouldn’t have kept asking you. It was—
MADDIE: I needed to do it. I’d put it off for so long.
NITA: Put what off?
MADDIE: I’d almost forgotten. You woke something back up. Your questions.
NITA: Mad—[Coughs.] What are you talking about?
MADDIE: It was almost too late.
[. . .]
NITA: Look, I’m already freaked the hell out, so if you could just do me a favor and not be all fucking cryptic—
MADDIE: Remember what I said when we were on our way here? You’re safe. You’re safe because you’re a stranger. You’re right to want to get out of here as soon as you can. This place . . . It does something to you. Doesn’t matter how far you go, it’s always pulling you back. That’s what happened to my dad, and it was— Emily knew there was no point in trying to get away, but I insisted, and she—
NITA: Ma—[Chokes.]
MADDIE: Don’t. It’s okay. Don’t try to fight it.
NITA: Fight what? Jesus, what . . .
[The engine has grown louder.]
NITA: Can you slow down?
MADDIE: It won’t change what happens next.
NITA: Oh my God. Please, whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.
MADDIE: I am so lucky I met you. I’m just— I always thought I’d be alone, and that nobody would know my name. I’m so grateful that you’re here.
[You’re here.]
MADDIE: Try not to think about me, okay? Just leave me behind. Don’t even say—
[The crash through the guardrails takes them both by surprise, and they scream the entire way down.]
[A scream with shattered glass and scraping metal; a scream that wrenches itself open from the inside.]
[A scream infused with something inhuman, old as mountains, wild as a bird suddenly breaking free from a cage, electric in the air, a scream with blood on its teeth and torn skin on the tips of its claws.]
[End of recorded material.]
Entry 22.
[Beginning of recorded material.]
[1:32 minutes of ambient noise: traffic, voices, dogs barking.]
NITA: Timestamp. It’s, uh, 3:28 in the afternoon. January 10th, 2014.
[. . .]
NITA: I’m moving out tomorrow. Um. I can’t really do stairs that well, at least until the leg brace comes off, so I’ll be staying at my mom’s. I’m just here to grab some clothes and things. And to leave this recorder on.
[. . .]
NITA: I guess what I’m saying is, if you have anything else you want to say, I’ll be listening. I’ll leave the recorder on in the empty room. Let it run until the battery dies, I guess.
[. . .]
[Footsteps, uneven and limping. A door creaks as it closes.]
[. . .]
[. . .]
[. . .]
[. . .]
[
.
.
.
]
[Are you sure you want to hear what we have to say?]
Lesley Nneka Arimah
Skinned
from McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern
The unclothed woman had a neatly trimmed bush, waxed to resemble a setting sun. The clothed women sneered as she laid out makeup and lotion samples, touting their benefits. “Soft, smooth skin, as you can see,” she said, winking—trying, and failing, to make a joke of her nakedness. Chidinma smiled in encouragement, nodding and examining everything Ejem pulled out of the box. Having invited Ejem to present her wares, she would be getting a free product out of this even if none of her guests made a purchase.
Ejem finished her sales pitch with a line about how a woman’s skin is her most important feature and she has to take care of it like a treasured accessory. The covered women tittered and smoothed their tastefully patterned wife-cloths over their limbs. They wore them simply, draped and belted into long, graceful dresses, allowing the fabric to speak for itself. They eyed Ejem’s nakedness with gleeful pity.
“I just couldn’t be uncovered at your age. That’s a thing for the younger set, don’t you think?”
“I have a friend who’s looking for a wife; maybe I can introduce you. He’s not picky.”
Ejem rolled her eyes, less out of annoyance than to keep tears at bay. Was this going to happen every time? She looked to Chidinma for help.
“Well, I for one am here for lotions, not to discuss covered versus uncovered, so I’d like this one.” Chidinma held up the most expensive cream. Ejem made a show of ringing it up, and the other women were embarrassed into making purchases of their own. They stopped speaking to Ejem directly and began to treat her as if she were a woman of the osu caste. They addressed product questions to the air or to Chidinma,
and listened but did not acknowledge Ejem when she replied. Ejem might have protested, as would have Chidinma, but they needed the sales party to end before Chidinma’s husband returned. It was the only stipulation Chidinma had made when she’d agreed to host. It was, in fact, the only stipulation of their friendship. Don’t advertise your availability to my husband. Chidinma always tried to make a joking compliment of it—“You haven’t had any kids yet, so your body is still amazing”—but there was always something strained there, growing more strained over the years as Ejem remained unclaimed.
The woman who had first addressed Chidinma instead of Ejem, whom Ejem had begun to think of as the ringleader, noticed them glancing at the clock, gave a sly smile, and requested that each and every product be explained to her. Ejem tried, she really did, whipping through the product texts with speed, but the clock sped just as quickly and eventually Chidinma stopped helping her, subdued by inevitable embarrassment. Before long, Chidinma’s husband returned from work.
Chance was all right, as husbands went. He oversaw the management of a few branches of a popular bank, a job that allowed them to live comfortably in their large house with an osu woman to spare Chidinma serious housework. He could even be considered somewhat progressive; after all, he had permitted his wife’s continued association with her unclothed friend, and he wasn’t the sort to harass an osu woman in his employ. True, he insisted on a formal greeting, but after Chidinma had bowed to him she raised herself to her tiptoes for a kiss and Chance indulged her, fisting his hands in the wife-cloth at the small of her back.
But he was still a man, and when he turned to greet the women his eyes caught on Ejem and stayed there, taking in the brown disks of her areolae, the cropped design of hair between her legs, whatever parts of her went unhidden in her seated position. No one said anything, the utter impropriety of an unclaimed woman being in the house of a married man almost too delicious a social faux pas to interrupt. But as Chidinma grew visibly distressed, the ringleader called the room to order and the women rose to leave, bowing their heads to Chance, giving Chidinma’s hands encouraging little squeezes. No doubt the tale would make the rounds—“the way he stared at her”—and Chidinma wouldn’t be able to escape it for a while. The women walked by Ejem without a word, the message clear: Ejem was beneath them.
The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2019 Page 42
