The Unwelcome

by Jacob Steven Mohr

  But to her great surprise, Kaitlyn broke the moment’s tension, rocking back on her bottom and draining the wine in her glass. Benjamin took the opportunity to plow ahead.

  “I had my first Christmas here,” he began, speaking too quickly, mushing his words together. “Or at least, it was the first one I could remember at all. It was after breakfast, and the rest of the family was coming through the front there. I remember, ‘coz cold air kept sweeping in every time somebody came in with another suitcase. Me and my father were by the fire—right where you and Kait are now, Alice—opening a few last presents, and we didn’t have a trash can for the wrapping paper, so we were just—” Benjamin lifted a hand from Alice’s leg, mimed a weak throw, “—chucking it into the fire and watching it curl up and burn. And it was so warm there, but I remember being terrified my father would grab one of my gifts and torch it by mistake.”

  Kaitlyn let out a titter, while Alice cooed and snuggled closer to her beau. “Once he reached for this Superman sweatshirt my Aunt Amanda gave me,” Benjamin said, “and I got so spooked, I grabbed it and hid it under my pillow in my room.”

  Benjamin lifted his wine, staring into the dark purple-red liquid in the glass. “I wish I still had that shirt,” he said. “I wish I could remember more of that day, but that’s all I’ve got. Just those few seconds. But that’s it: my first happy memory. That’s why I brought you here. I was always happy at this cabin—and I’m happy right now.”

  He found Alice’s hand and threaded his fingers through hers, and Riley felt a sudden and powerful urge to applaud, but instead she pressed her hands to her heart and smiled, trying to thaw her analytic gaze.

  “Well, shit,” she said. “I didn’t know that was gonna be a cute story.”

  There’s your face, Benjamin.

  Riley shrugged, mock-ruefully. “I take it back, Alice,” she continued. “It wasn’t a boring question. And that means—” She snatched her half-empty beer off the side table and hoisted a salute. “—that Riley drinks.”

  And drink she did, pouring what was left in the can down her throat while the others cheered. The applause warmed her, but as the Budweiser settled in her stomach, Riley again found herself staring over at Kaitlyn, watching her eyes flick back and forth—from Benjamin’s face to Alice’s, back to Benjamin’s, and finally to Riley herself.

  This time Riley averted her gaze, smiling inwardly. She thought she understood, or could be made to understand in time: Kaitlyn’s face looked like a cliff of ice collapsing into the ocean. The melting ice was cool and fresh and sweet—but something of enormous beauty had to be destroyed to make it. Riley realized she was watching some manner of tremendous struggle playing out in the little movements of the other girl’s eyebrows and cheeks and lips, the nature and scope of which she could only guess at. What could Kaitlyn want so badly?

  And what inside her was she so willing to kill to get it?

  Riley frowned, reaching blindly behind her for the torn-open box of Budweiser. She’d find out. Maybe now, maybe later—but she’d learn the truth eventually. This is why she played the game. She cracked open a fresh beer, and the carbonation hissed angrily, foaming a little at the aperture. This might turn out to be an interesting weekend, after all.

  * * *

  The game proceeded smoothly from there—from Benjamin back to Alice, to Riley, to Kaitlyn, back to Riley, and to Benjamin yet again—and by ten-thirty or so, spirits were high and the mood was getting woozy. Benjamin had his shirt in his lap, dared by Riley and Alice as a team to play the rest of the game topless, and his neck and shoulders were reddening slightly with his back to the fire. Riley had expected him to refuse the dare, but Benjamin had surprised her, grinning cheekily as he stripped off both sweater and plaid button-down in a single smooth movement. The transition mussed his hair and set his glasses askew, but all Riley saw were the blocky shoulders and the long, smooth muscles of the upper arms. The effect was transformative, as though a bulky football mascot had removed its huge foam head to reveal not a sweaty geek but a young Ryan Gosling, and Riley, five beers in and drinking straight from the bottle of Merlot now, was finding it difficult not to stare.

  But it wasn’t just Benjamin’s physique that caught her eye. As the game wore on, Kaitlyn was becoming more and more visibly agitated. She answered one Truth but swatted away two Dares outright, slugging down her penalty beers bravely but with perceptible disgust. Riley guessed she was used to fruitier drinks, or hadn’t been a big drinker to begin with.

  Or she just hasn’t got a stomach for the stuff, she mused. Jeez, if she’s a lightweight, I almost feel bad. This isn’t a game for greenhorns.

  But the night seemed to be getting to Kaitlyn. When it was her turn to choose, she always turned to Alice, sometimes going whole minutes without even glancing at another face around the circle. Her Dares were tame and half-formed, but her Truths were stranger: each question seemed calculated, probing—but never after any strange story or kinky secret. Instead she asked after little things in Alice’s life, small, personal stories that seemed of no consequence even to Alice herself, who answered gamely but seemed confused by the other girl’s line. Don’t you remember? she would say. You were there, Kaity. Or, more often, We were there together.

  And all the while, Kaitlyn was getting drunker. She weaved her head in a kind of figure eight, eyes closed, legs folded in front of her, the sides of her head tapping first Alice’s shoulder, then Riley’s. She seemed to be collecting herself, working up the courage to ask one last big Truth—but now it was a race between her stomach and her heart, to see if she could work up the gumption before she passed out in Riley’s lap. For her part, Riley went easy on her, steering easy questions and cheap dares her way whenever she could. Now more than ever, she wanted to know what was moving the clockwork behind that thin, frowning face.

  And then, at last, the moment seemed to be upon them. Kaitlyn soldiered her way through a middling dare—to pose provocatively with the stuffed buck head from the wall while the rest of the group took pictures—and after she had rubbed the fur off her lips, she stood on tiptoe to return Bambi to his hook, slurring, “I’ll call you,” to hoots and laughter from the others. Then she swiveled, bouncing on her toes with her hands behind her back. Her mouth smiled, but her face was a hard white mask as her eyes swept across the three bodies by the fire, until at last she said, “Alice.”

  “Truth,” Alice began to say, but before the word could form, Benjamin hollered, “Just you hold on a moment.” His voice was thick, and he struggled into a half-crouch, leaning against the sofa as he turned to face Kaitlyn. “You’ve given Alice four in a row,” he protested. “Lob one at me. Or Riley. Or—”

  “Let her ask,” Riley hissed with a ferocity that surprised her. Her head felt as thick and heavy as a medicine ball when she adjusted her position on the rug. She felt the mask beginning to slip down over her eyes; she shook herself, but her head kept swimming and spinning.

  “All I’m saying,” Benjamin continued, “is that there should be a, a House Rule for this sort of thing. No monkey-in-the-middle, or something like that.”

  “Do you feel left out, Ben?” Kaitlyn had come across the room and was leaning on the back of the couch, her head cocked coyly, propped up on a curled fist.

  “Yeah. That’s it,” Benjamin replied. He got up, sliding onto the middle cushion of the sofa; he was grinning, but his voice was like hard wet sand on a beach. “That’s it,” he said again. “I’m just feelin’ left out over here.”

  “How can you feel left out?” Kaitlyn demanded, reaching for the beer she’d left on the side table. “You’re, you’re dating her aren’t you?”

  “I’m just sayin’,” Benjamin repeated, “that there should be some kind of rule.” The muscles in his chest tightened and slackened, tightened and slackened.

  “Let her ask already.” Here it was again: strain hanging in the air like twine held tight between two fists. Riley felt caught in a loop. What was wrong with them?
Couldn’t anybody talk to each other in this room without baring teeth? Riley felt a strange and sudden urge to cry out, to scream, but her lips hung dead from her jaws, her voice imprisoned behind the mask.

  “For th’ love of God…” Kaitlyn clapped both hands to her cheeks, smushing her face between them. She turned again to Alice, but Riley didn’t hear what she said next. A deep vibration jangled across her right hip, and she clapped her hand to her pocket before rolling to one side to retrieve her phone. Four words flashed across the screen, and a bolt of panic struck her, even through the cotton in her head.

  GOT AN ADDRESS FOR ME?

  “Hold on,” she said, half under her breath. Fuck, fuck, fuck—how had she forgotten? How could she possibly have been this stupid?

  A second message appeared under the first:

  WON’T MAKE IT TIL TOMORROW AFTERNOON. DON’T WANNA GET LOST IN THE DARK HAHA.

  “Benjamin?” Riley began, quickly hiding the phone in her lap. “Would you remind me what the address of this place is again?”

  A cold line of sweat wriggled down along the back of her neck while Benjamin looked down at her from the couch, firelight licking off his glasses.

  “I don’t think I ever told you the address,” he replied. “Why?”

  “I’m just—” Riley began, then stopped herself. No. This was her mistake. And he’d only demand an answer anyway. “Look, I didn’t know what this was when I got invited,” she said.

  “Riley, who was that on your phone.”

  She sighed and made a point of meeting his glare head on. “His name is Cormac Kasdan,” she said evenly. “He’s from school. He’s captain of the swim team and—”

  Again she stopped herself. This was ridiculous: she felt like she was back in high school, about to bring a boy home for dinner for the first time. He’s very nice, Mommy, really. He gets good grades and goes to church and he’s got a dick like an Italian sausage. You’ll love him.

  “—and I’ve invited him to meet us at the cabin tomorrow,” she concluded, feeling a little out of breath.

  Benjamin blinked. “You didn’t,” he said. And when she gave no response, he slapped his knees and leaned forward to stand up, but only rose halfway before he sank onto the couch, then, “Well, I guess that’s—no. No, it’s not all right. Goddammit, Riley, why? What were you thinking?”

  “Like I said,” she replied, “I didn’t know what this was when Alice invited me. I thought the whole thing was going to be bigger—”

  “Oh, of course you did.” Benjamin heaved to his feet, walking unsteadily towards the back door. “And where is this complete stranger supposed to sleep? Huh? In Kait’s bed? On the couch with you? What?” His back was turned, but Riley could see his bare shoulders shaking with anger. “At any rate, no, he can’t come here—not that you asked.”

  “He’s already coming,” Riley said indignantly. “I told you, he’s from school. Left after we did. He’s staying with a friend in Virginia, and tomorrow—”

  “Then tell him to turn around.”

  Benjamin’s voice was cold, and she could see his face reflected in the glass window of the sliding door, warped and twitching.

  “No!” The word came out almost at a scream. “I’m not just…” Anger was rising from her gut, hot and solid and heavy as molten lead, filling her up and turning her blood to steam in her veins. She sputtered drunkenly, making horrible sounds.

  And then, in the reflection, she saw Benjamin’s face again. The mask dropped down, and rage took her like the first belly-sucking plunge on a roller coaster. His shoulders were shaking and his features were contorted, but it wasn’t from anger.

  Benjamin was laughing at her.

  “You’re not what?” he asked without turning around. “You’re not…?” He cocked his head, but when again she made no reply he half-turned, his face red with mirth. “I’ll tell you then. Truth? Okay: What makes you think I wanted you here in the first place?”

  The silence that followed crushed like a wave. She could feel every tiny muscle across her trim frame tightening, compressing like springs coiled within her, just as surely as she could feel three pairs of eyes drilling into her as she squeezed her eyes shut. A second passed, then another. The world took a breath and held it.

  “You’re right,” Riley said. “I’m not supposed to be here at all.”

  “Ben, please,” Alice’s voice said from somewhere behind her, but Riley was on her feet, stalking through a red haze towards Benjamin. She saw the dim form of Alice following after, but she waved it away before planting her feet right behind where Benjamin was standing.

  “I didn’t want to be here,” she hissed. “I didn’t ask to be here. But you begged me to come—God knows why. Because you didn’t trust yourselves, I guess, because…”

  “Both of you, stop!” Alice had appeared behind her and tried to position herself between Riley and Benjamin, but Riley shouldered her out of the way. “Riley, please don’t do this,” Alice begged, but the words were coming up, pouring out like thick bile.

  “Because of her!” She pointed one shaking finger backwards, straight at where she knew Kaitlyn was sitting at the hearth. “Because you couldn’t stand to be alone with her—either of you. I don’t know what happened between you all, but it’s got you all twisted up on the inside—hasn’t it? And now you can’t stand to be in the same room as each other, but for some reason you can’t stand to be apart, either. So you didn’t bring along a fourth wheel, Benjamin. You hired a babysitter.”

  Kaitlyn let out a gasp of anger, and to Riley’s right, Alice made a strange wet sound but made no more attempts to stop the confrontation. Riley’s fists were shaking by her sides, but in the reflection, Benjamin’s twisted-up face was still laughing, laughing, laughing…

  “When Alice texted me,” she said, “I was so fucking happy…” Now Benjamin faced her, laughing no longer, but studying her coolly. Somehow this was worse—Yell at me! she wanted to scream. Call me names, call me a bitch, a slut, a drunk. Anything but laugh, anything but that blank, alien face.

  “I thought somebody had seen me, you know?” she continued. “Seen who I was, or past who I was, and thought, that girl should stick around some. Why did you ask me to come here?” Every new word that came out was slow and heavy. Speaking felt like dredging the bottom of an ocean with a weighted net, dragging through sand and thick silt and the crushing weight of water. “I’m no good for this. I’m sorry—I can’t do what you want from me. I can’t fix you.”

  At this, Benjamin tilted his head, seeming to consider the words. “Then we’re both disappointed,” he said, shrugged, and began to laugh again.

  Then Alice let out another strangled cry, and this time, Kaitlyn parroted the sound. Riley heard her leap to her feet, as well as the sound of beer hissing as it spilled, followed by the thump of bare feet on floorboards. “Alice!” Riley heard her say.

  But Alice was gone. The door to Kaitlyn’s room banged open—Riley caught a glimpse of a cloud of retreating red hair, as well as Kaitlyn herself in pursuit. Then she and Benjamin were alone in the den, alone with the dying fire. Benjamin had stopped laughing: he looked strangely stunned, unsteady on his feet, and his eyes darted back and forth from the slamming door to Riley’s face and back as though he didn’t know where he was.

  “What happened?” he mumbled through what sounded like a mouthful of peanut butter. “Where’d they go? Where’s Alice?”

  “She’s gone,” Riley murmured, similarly thick-voiced. Ice-cold panic filled her like a foot in a sock, pushing inside in the wake of her spent rage. Her entire body trembled, shivers running in sheets down her arms and the backs of her thighs, and her lips felt thick and dry. She’d done this. She could see it all clearly. Another night gone sour, just when things were going so well—because of her. Only she knew what the buttons did when you pushed them—and Riley had pushed them all. If only…

  Yes—‘if only.’

  But it’s always ‘if only’ with you, isn’t
it? If only you hadn’t drunk so much. If only you’d asked how the punch was mixed. If only you hadn’t kissed him. If only you’d just said ‘no’ for once in your life.

  If only you’d kept your big mouth shut.

  She felt Benjamin’s confused and searching eyes on her as she brushed past him, slid open the cabin’s back door, and stumbled out into the frigid air, her hand brushing against his bare flank for only the briefest instant. The night was starless, but the waxing moon was visible through the bare trees and rendered almost amorphous by the clouds. Riley leaned against the cabin’s back wall, a cigarette finding its way between her lips as she patted the pockets of her jean jacket for her lighter. But the Zippo was inside, left on the breakfast nook table or buried deep in her purse, and Riley wouldn’t, couldn’t, go back to fetch it. Not with them. Not with Kaitlyn and Alice huddled in a bedroom picking her corpse clean with their whispers. Not with Benjamin and his sad, puzzled eyes waiting for her in the den.

  His strange eyes.

  How had it happened? She had seen his face, hadn’t she? Teased it out of him, the way she always did? But he had laughed at her, mocked her, transformed like a banana shedding its peel—and then somehow reverted, collapsing inward, looking as lost as a lamb in an empty field. How had she missed that?

  How had she gotten it all so wrong?

  Riley patted her pockets once more but, finding no lighter, flicked the cigarette away into the darkness beyond the back porch. A low sob rang out into the night, and after a few moments there was nothing she could do to hold the tears back.

  But some time later—how long, she couldn’t tell—she shivered and ventured a glance through the sliding glass door into the lit den. No sign of Benjamin, and the fire was all but ashes in the hearth. He was in his own bedroom, she figured, or gone to comfort the other two girls. The coast, at least for the moment, was clear.

  She put a hand on the door handle, then paused. She didn’t want to walk back inside only for all three to come through the door and confront her at once, but she didn’t have any choice. She could not stay out here in the cold forever. Sooner or later, she was going to have to face the music and dance.