Termination Dust

by Alana Terry

  Kimmie had mixed feelings about returning to work. On the one hand, since Chuck had refused to offer her mother even the simplest of funerals, there wasn’t a whole lot for her to do at home. No relatives coming to visit. Her sister Meg would take care of the body in Anchorage, and since Meg was married to a real estate agent with enough money to pay for a five-bedroom home on the hillside and two or three tropical vacations a year, Kimmie figured Meg would find a way to give their mom a nice burial even if Chuck wouldn’t let them plan a formal service.

  It wasn’t right. Mom had been the most faithful, God-fearing woman Kimmie ever knew. And now she was gone, without a single pastor to pray over her gravesite or a gathering of friends to share memories from her life. Kimmie wondered if Mom still had any friends in Anchorage, if Meg would find anyone to attend a service in her honor.

  Everything about the past week felt wrong. Surreal. Like a badly written script where none of the characters acted like themselves. A knock-off of real life, poorly written and unnecessarily tragic. Kimmie kept waiting for the director to stop the cameras and rant about the terrible quality of the plot, the cheap acting, and the senseless scenes.

  Kimmie tiptoed into the bathroom, careful not to wake Chuck up. While she waited for the water to heat up, she stretched in front of the smudged mirror. Mom had been a prisoner, leaving the trailer to go to the grocery store and back and that was all. So she’d developed an entire morning calisthenics routine, and when Kimmie was younger, she’d watch her mother exercise in unmasked adoration. Sometimes Mom would sing her Bible songs while she stretched and worked her muscles.

  Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, since you’re working for God and not for men.

  Above all else, love each other deeply, deeply, deeply, for love covers over a multitude of sins.

  Kimmie took off her pajamas and stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot water scalded her skin. She’d only have two or three minutes before Chuck would be pounding on the door, snarling at her to turn that cursed shower off, but for right now she could enjoy the quiet and solitude.

  She could stand under the steaming spray as the heat melted away her icy chill.

  She could pretend, if only for a moment, that Mom was in the kitchen, brewing Chuck’s coffee, preparing the family’s breakfast. She could hear her mom’s faint humming in the echoes of her memories.

  Above all else, love each other deeply, deeply, deeply, for love covers over a multitude of sins.

  If only Mom had realized sooner that sometimes not even love itself is enough to save you.

  CHAPTER 4

  Kimmie hoped the rest of the morning would pass smoothly. Some days her stepfather was tired enough that he left Kimmie and Pip alone. Chuck had never said so, but it was tacitly understood that all the chores now fell on Kimmie since Mom wasn’t here to do them. After her shower, she wrapped her hair up in a towel and headed to the kitchen to start on Chuck’s coffee.

  “What you all dressed up for?” He was already at the folding table in the dining room, sitting before a dirty, empty mug. A painted picture of the Grand Canyon chipped away from its enamel.

  Kimmie glanced down at her jeans and sweater. “I’m going back to the daycare today.” He must have remembered. Since Chuck’s trailer didn’t have a landline or any cell reception, Kimmie’s coworker Jade had stopped by the house yesterday to beg her to return to work. Chuck had been in the middle of a half-drunk, half-naked outburst even though it wasn’t even dinnertime yet. Kimmie had been embarrassed, more on Jade’s behalf than anything else.

  “When you gonna be home?” Even when he wasn’t drunk, Chuck had the tendency to slur all his syllables together, making the noises that took the least amount of muscle control or mental effort.

  “Three,” Kimmie answered, “like normal.”

  Chuck’s biggest stipulation when it came to Kimmie’s work at the daycare was that she clocked out before the school-aged kids got dropped off. Pip always went with her, and Chuck didn’t want his son picking up bad habits or germs from the elementary-aged students. Every once in a while, his demands left the center with an uncomfortable staffing predicament, but Chuck was resolute. The day Kimmie and Pip came home at 3:08 instead of 3:07 would be the day her stepfather marched to the daycare himself and told her coworkers she quit. He’d made that threat multiple times, and Kimmie knew he’d follow through. Since the daycare got her out of the house, and more importantly gave Pip the chance to play with kids his age and toys besides crushed beer cans and spilled sunflower seeds, Kimmie would do anything in her power to keep her job.

  Even placate her stepfather, whose bare stomach bulged over his flannel pants as he sat half-dressed at the table, waiting for his food.

  She grabbed two slices of white bread and threw them into the toaster. While she reached for the coffee, Chuck mumbled something.

  “What’d you say?” she asked.

  He glowered at her, as if her inability to understand his pronouncement was a reflection of her own mental incompetence instead of his embarrassingly poor diction. “I said I’m gonna need you home now. No more daycare for you.”

  Kimmie had been prepared for this conversation and was actually surprised it took four whole days until he brought it up. Thankfully the extra time gave her plenty of time to fine-tune her argument. She wouldn’t go into details about how the daycare was such a better environment for Pip and might even help him to start talking in full sentences soon. There was no reason to appeal to Chuck’s fatherly nature since he didn’t possess any at all, so she answered Chuck in the language he understood best.

  “We won’t be getting Mom’s welfare anymore. I was thinking if I kept working at the daycare, I could help with the budget.” Kimmie was treading dangerous waters. There was no way Chuck could concede to being dependent on an uneducated girl in her twenties, but she also knew that the fool was capable of doing simple math and had to realize he couldn’t afford all that booze on his disability payments alone.

  She held her breath, waiting for a response, not knowing if her stepfather would reluctantly give in or begin a loud and obnoxious tirade that was certain to wake up Pip. For years, she’d tried to stash away little bits of pocket change from her paycheck, storing up a small but treasured cache of one- and five-dollar bills. She’d imagined it might eventually turn into enough to convince her mom to take Pip and leave. It wasn’t living expenses they needed. As snobby as her sister and her rich Anchorage husband might be, they wouldn’t turn away their own flesh and blood. Mom’s biggest fear had been that Chuck would demand to keep Pip. Even though there was no court in the nation that should award someone like Chuck sole custody, Mom wouldn’t leave without enough money to hire the best lawyer in Alaska just to be sure.

  Kimmie never mentioned her plans, but Mom found out about the extra money lying around. Toward the end of each month, when Pip hadn’t eaten a hot meal at home in weeks and Chuck was bellowing for more beer, her mom would sneak into her room and whisper, “Don’t you have a little something? Just to hold us over a few more days?”

  And so Kimmie would relinquish the ones and the fives she’d managed to stash away. Eventually, Chuck realized what she was doing. From that point on, he made her sign her paychecks over to him.

  At present, Kimmie had $2.23, all in change, to her name, which she kept hidden beneath the torn lining of one of her winter snow boots.

  From his spot at the table, her stepfather glowered at her. He was probably straining to do the calculations, figuring out if having a fulltime slave to wait upon his every need was worth giving up so he wouldn’t have to live off his disability alone.

  “Home by three,” he grumbled. He slammed his empty mug on the table and then slid it toward Kimmie to fill with the black sludge he called his morning coffee. “And no school holidays.”

  Kimmie turned her back to him, figuring that now was not the time to let her stepfather see her smile.

  As lon
g as she and Pip had that job at the daycare, that job away from Chuck, she could plan. She could scheme. She could call her sister from Jade’s cell phone and beg her to come and pick her up.

  Pick her and Pip up, actually.

  How a girl Kimmie’s age with no real job experience, no education, and no future prospects could assume guardianship of her half-brother against the wishes of his biological parent still remained what seemed like an insurmountable impossibility, but as long as she got those few hours alone with Pip each day without Chuck’s constantly surveying every move she made, she was going to figure something out.

  She had to.

  CHAPTER 5

  After Kimmie fixed her stepdad’s breakfast, she added his dirty dishes to the ever-growing pile in the sink and then went back to her room to wake up Pip. Working the morning shift meant that she and her brother could count on both a hot breakfast and lunch in a single day. There probably weren’t all that many nutrients in the microwave croissant sandwiches or canned SpaghettiOs they served at the daycare, but calories were calories. At least Kimmie’s job gave her brother more to live off of than the sunflower seed shells his father spat onto the floor.

  She knelt on the mattress, leaned over her brother, and nuzzled Pip’s ticklish neck with her nose. “Wake up, Buster. We get to play today.”

  Pip rolled over and blinked at her, his expression momentarily vacant until his face broke out in a cautious smile.

  “You ready to go back to work with me?” she asked.

  Pip grunted, and Kimmie spent a few minutes she didn’t really have snuggling with him in bed, breathing in his fresh morning smell that still managed to feel clean even though she could never wash him without his throwing a fit.

  She pulled out some of Pip’s clothes and watched him struggle for his independence before helping him take off his pajamas and get dressed. A few minutes later, they were on their own, making the walk to work. An icy wind stole its way through their thin jackets. She took hers off and wrapped it around Pip to provide an extra layer of warmth.

  Hiding her hands in her sweater sleeves to better protect them from the cold, Kimmie gestured toward the mountains. “See that, Buster? See the snow on the mountain tops?”

  Pip’s eyes widened slightly, Kimmie’s only indication he had heard her. At home, Chuck hated any loud noise that didn’t come from his own body or his television set. In addition, he was convinced that Pip’s speech delays meant he was stupid, and he berated Kimmie anytime he caught her talking to her brother, certain that his mute son was incapable of comprehension.

  After being cooped up in the house with Chuck for the past four days, Kimmie realized how freeing it was now to be able to speak clearly.

  “Did I ever tell you what the first snow on the mountains is called?” she asked. Pip had been distracted by a car speeding down the Glenn and was no longer staring at the Chugach range in the distance, but Kimmie was grateful to have found her voice again and continued on with her explanation.

  “We call it termination dust because it looks like someone sprinkled white dust on the tips of the mountains. Termination means ending, and the first snow tells us that summer has ended and winter will be coming soon.”

  She glanced down at her brother, trying to gauge how much of her explanation he might have understood. He was focused on the way her jacket sleeves hung down by his side, nearly dragging on the ground behind him. She bent down, tied the sleeves loosely together, and kissed his cheek. One of the hardest parts about Pip’s speech delay meant that Kimmie was always wondering if her brother understood just how much she loved him. How she’d do anything within her power to protect him.

  Even die.

  Even kill.

  CHAPTER 6

  Kimmie stepped into the Glennallen daycare and held the door open for her brother. Before Pip was past the threshold, Kimmie was wrapped up in Jade’s arms as her friend attempted to squeeze all the breath out of her lungs.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened.”

  Kimmie didn’t know why the reaction surprised her. Knowing what she did about Jade, she shouldn’t have expected anything different. Jade was effervescent, extroverted, and probably twice as strong as Kimmie would ever be. Her hug of condolence was as smothering as it was compassionate.

  Once freed, Kimmie took a step back. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.” She helped her brother escape from his layers of coats, pulled out his favorite tub of matchbox cars, then followed Jade into the kitchen.

  “What are we making for breakfast this morning?”

  Jade held up the Pillsbury can. “Cinnamon rolls.”

  Kimmie’s stomach gurgled. She hoped Jade didn’t hear. Kimmie kept the door to the play area propped open so she could supervise the few kids in attendance and suddenly felt sheepish. She’d been so focused on her and Pip’s grief over the past few days she’d hardly thought about Jade’s visit yesterday. What kind of impression did Jade have of her and her family now? With a stepdad who lazed around the house all day belching out his beer and stripped half naked, a half-brother who refused to speak, and a mom who killed herself …

  She caught Jade staring at her and felt herself blush. Oh, well. Jade never seemed to have a problem speaking her mind or interacting with other people who did. Kimmie took in a deep breath. “I’m really sorry if my stepdad made you uncomfortable when you came over. He’s …”

  She struggled for the right words. He’s always like that, sometimes even worse? He’s a monster of a man, and I wish he was the one who died instead of my mom?

  She calmed her quivering voice and explained, “He’s got a lot to deal with right now.” Why was she making excuses for him? Because otherwise she’d have to find a way to explain why she was still living with the beast when she was free to walk away.

  Theoretically free, at least.

  Kimmie was already starting to feel just as trapped as her mom had been. There had to be a way to distance herself from her stepfather without abandoning Pip. Maybe she could ask for more hours at the daycare. Then at least she and Pip would be here instead of at home. It would mean more money for Chuck’s drinking, and he’d have the trailer to himself …

  But that was the problem. He didn’t want the trailer to himself. He wanted someone to pick up all his stained napkins and snot-covered paper towels, someone to fetch his coffee and make sure his beers stayed icy-cold. The man at the funeral home told Kimmie by phone it was natural for people who’d lost a loved one to suicide to feel angry at the deceased, but initially she’d balked at the suggestion. How could she be mad at her mom? For all of Kimmie’s begging and pleading, it had become apparent that only dying would free Mom from her servitude. In Kimmie’s most honest musings, she’d feared that one day Chuck’s anger could lead to murder, and she was relieved that Mom had met death on her own terms.

  Mom’s suicide was a small act of defiance against a man who’d held her in terror for years. But now Kimmie wished she could take her mom by the shoulders, force her to observe exactly what her death had done. Kimmie was even more trapped than she’d been a week ago. All of Mom’s responsibilities now fell on her, and even though Kimmie hated to admit it, Chuck wasn’t the only one worrying about how they’d keep the family afloat without those regular welfare payouts.

  Worst of all were her worries over Pip. How could a three-year-old understand the finality of death? And since he didn’t speak, Kimmie had no idea what he was thinking. Did he figure Mom had abandoned him? That she stopped loving him and ran away? Pip hadn’t cried any more than normal these past few days, and even though it seemed like he clutched Kimmie more closely at night, it could also be that she was the one clinging to him.

  “He doing all right?” Jade’s voice came from right behind Kimmie’s shoulder, making her jump. She realized she’d spent the past several minutes staring at her brother. While Jade’s little girl and the other early arrivers grouped in the main area coloring or playing in the mas
sive dollhouse that once belonged to Jade’s daughter, Pip was in the corner by the cubbies, right where Kimmie had left him. Instead of racing his cars up and down the carpet like most kids would, he focused all his attention on lining them up in concentric circles. Kimmie knew that if she got closer she’d see he’d organized them by color or size or model or whatever other system caught his fancy today.

  She forced herself to smile. “Yeah, it’s hard on him, but he’s handling things really well.”

  “Does he understand what happened?”

  Kimmie didn’t know if Jade was asking about their mom’s death in general or her suicide specifically. She shrugged and offered a noncommittal, “It’s hard to say.”

  “How did he do at the funeral? Was that pretty rough on him?”

  Kimmie’s face grew hot. How could she explain that her stepdad was so heartless he wouldn’t even allow them to plan a service?

  The oven timer dinged, distracting Jade and freeing Kimmie from the conversation that was destined to grow more awkward the longer it dragged on.

  “Cinnamon rolls are ready!” Jade called out. Jade’s daughter and the other children cheered and clamored and caused a minor stampede in an effort to be the first seated at the kitchen table. Pip, on the other hand, frowned at the box of cars, studying them as if they were Einstein’s theory of relativity, then made a careful selection. He held the truck up, squinting as he turned it around to examine it from all angles before adding it to his circle of cars, perfectly placed and impeccably lined up.

  CHAPTER 7

  The daycare was quieter than normal, with the Cole twins out with strep throat and another child whose family was on vacation in the Lower 48. The comparable calm was a mixed blessing. With the grief of losing her mom sitting at the base of her neck like a thirty-pound backpack, Kimmie was grateful that today’s crowd seemed fairly content to play with only minimal need for supervision. On the other hand, the minutes seemed to drag by as slowly as the Alaskan sunset on the summer solstice.