by L. B. Carter
Nor was getting pulled from school …for his uncle’s boat business? There had been a lot of storms. Shouldn’t that mean he could afford to hire someone else?
“I know you have your friends looking out for you. I saw their loyalty at the beach and last night bringing you that fry-and-shake pick-me-up after my brother’s disgusting offenses. That said, if Nor tries to interact with you, please let me know. You know where to find me.”
Barb’s. Or she could resort to fists again. Another nod.
Reed let out such a huge breath, sounding much older than he appeared. Rena was surprised he didn’t rustle the leaves. “Good. Thank you for being so understanding and amenable to my rules. I really do hope there hasn’t been irreparable damage.”
Rena shook her head. It wasn’t like anyone in town didn’t already think she was a freak before Nor’s Corpse Flower analogy. And he was right, she still had Kayna and Liam and Tilly and, reluctantly, Stew. She was thrilled to think how much more progress she might make getting as normal as possible without the mosquito-like annoyance of Nor flitting into her life oblivious to her shooing swats. Big Brother Reed was here to be the fly-swatter.
“Let me walk you home. It’s getting dark and I’m sure your Grandpa will be worried. Unless, that is, you needed more alone time with the tree?” She made a face. He grinned.
Reed motioned for her to go first. His footsteps, as they followed hers in the dark while they threaded their way through the forest, no longer inspired fear. Rena felt lighter than when she’d stomped into the woods, and it wasn’t thanks to envisioning members of her Ship List’s enraging faces on the tree bark. Enlightened to the fact that Reed’s tragic story had been exposed in an effort to dissuade her from talking to Nor, Rena wished she’d told him not to bother. The threat, if it was one, was unnecessary. Frankly, it was also a little worrisome. What was it about their family that had gotten a girl killed? Maybe she wasn’t the only murderer around. Rena was more than willing to avoid Nor.
They reached the porch and she turned to thank Reed for the escort. His face was shadowed in the yellow light. Unsure how to part, Rena signed thank you. Even if he couldn’t understand, she hoped he’d receive the intention.
Reed shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me. Ensuring your safety is the least I can do after the treatment you’ve received from my own family.” His head tilted. “I didn’t know you could sign.”
A little.
He nodded.
You? she asked, clumsily. Most people didn’t spend time learning signs as a second language unless they knew someone deaf, like Coach and his son.
“I don’t know much, either,” he admitted. “It’s a useful tool for communicating when you have to be silent.”
That was a vague answer. Rena questioned with a tilt of her head, growing more and more curious the longer she talked to Reed.
“Part of my job,” he answered. At the diner? Why would he have to be silent at the diner? “Old job,” he amended, reading her perplexity. She was about to ask what job when he cut her off.
“You’re a good listener,” he observed. No duh. “That was the first time I’ve been able to talk about Val, since the accident happened.”
She shrugged. She knew the tactic from Dr. Spelmann. Knowing the person you talked to couldn’t interrupt or spill any secrets—literally in her case; morally in her therapist’s case—made people a lot more comfortable opening up.
“Thank you for that. Normally I only have my family to chat with and they…” he struggled again for a second, “...they are broken themselves. My mother also passed recently.”
She winced. A hand snaked up to her locket. On that, she could more closely empathize. Rena took a bold step, knowing that vice versa, he wouldn’t tell anyone; he was a stranger in town and evidently leaving soon himself. And there was some sort of unspoken trust between them now. He had bared his guilt, so she felt secure that he would protect the confidentiality as well.
I lost parents in an accident, she signed slowly and he watched her fingers carefully, I also feel sad in— She tapped her chest. I didn’t save.
Even with the somber topic, Rena suddenly felt lighter. The locket almost felt warm, reassuring, perfectly enclosed in her palm. It wasn’t the full confession, not much more than she’d expressed to Dr. Spelmann. Somehow it felt more exposing, like she was offering Reed a peek into her box. Yet it was less disquieting. It felt like Reed was helping her contain what was in the box without a struggle. Like it was a dog, submitting to the dominance of being outnumbered and quieting in her cage.
To her dismay, when she looked up, Reed’s face had slackened in alarm, eyes going wide and intense, his mouth dropped open. So much for the apology. He was no better than his brother. She thought he’d understand. Heck, he’d basically admitted to murder in the woods. Rena spun to the door, ready to slam it in Reed’s face.
“Wait.” He grabbed the frame, his upper body strength greater than hers and holding it just closed enough that she couldn’t slide in.
They wrestled for a moment, before she conceded, stepping back and allowing the screen to slap against the door frame.
He held his hands up as he had when he’d entered the clearing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react so poorly. I truly am sorry about your loss.” A hand covered his heart. “I was just surprised. I didn’t realize you’d been in a car accident. It was a car accident, right?”
She nodded, dropping her eyes to the wooden planks.
“Off the bridge?”
She snapped back up. He had heard of her, of the accident then.
He read her reaction and took a step back. “You were there?” He breathed. “Fuck, are you our—?” He stopped himself and looked around as though for eavesdroppers on her Grandfather’s porch in a nearly-urban neighborhood by the cliffs. “You were in the car.” Reed’s voice was sharp, like her answer meant more than just a detail in her tragic tale. “You know everything. I need to ask you, fuck, so much.”
Did he believe she’d killed her parents? She had, her mind reminded. But God, it felt so much worse hearing the accusation. No one else knew. And he wanted details, just like Them. No, thanks. Rena’s free hand balled up. If he didn’t shut up and let her go inside, Reed was going to get the treatment Nor had gotten when he’d overstepped.
“How did Nor not know… Or, shit, was this why he’s been so fixated on you? Damn. Younger brother showing me up.”
Because she was also an orphan?
“Look, can I come in? I just want to talk. You can sign and I’ll listen, to all of it. I’ll tell you about Val. The whole of it,” he bartered.
Rena let go of her locket and crossed her arms. His eyes darted down and stayed. He licked his lips. Great, now he was leering? Anger made her more forceful than previously. She shouldered past him, sauntering in the house.
“Wait, is that locket from the accident? Can I see it? What’s inside?”
What a line. She hid her chest with crossed arms, starting to close the heavy door.
“Okay, we can talk later. Shit, I need to talk to Nor,” he said to himself. She snorted, staring at Reed through the screen like he’d lost it. It certainly looked like he had. He took another step toward the stairs, looking around wildly as if Nor were playing hide-and-seek among the trunks. Nor was probably face down in Shayna’s boobs. “No. Fuck. He’s sailing.” He spun back towards her, palms aloft. Was that the only motion he had for her? “We’ll come back tomorrow. Don’t leave town.”
Leave town? Where would she go? She had no one, no where. She had another semester before she could leave. Reed said they were leaving town soon. She was here first. They could go. And anyway there was the storm coming in tonight. Part of the reason she was getting all her emotions out in the woods before she’d be cooped up inside.
Reed darted down the gravel driveway—she had no idea where he’d parked now she thought of it. Had he walked there? Rena sniffed and locked the solid door, uncaring.
Rena hoped Reed got caught in the rain.
◆◆◆
The storm was bad. They were used to storms, particularly on the coast, but this one was the tail-end of a late-season hurricane. A few had been making their way all the way up the eastern coast as they got stronger each year. This one was the biggest yet; larger than the one that hit restart on Sirena’s life. It had shifted to an unusual course, with the jet stream changing as Earth warmed, not hitting land until just south of them. Grandpa seemed to agree with the scientists on the TV as he grumbled that things were only going to get worse while tramping from the front porch through the hall to the back door to finish locking the shutters. She watched him go from her curled up position on the couch. (Her help was declined, of course).
His ancient box TV was flip-flopping between aerial maps of the coastline, barely visible beneath the undulating amoeba of green and a split screen of reporters and scientists.
Their expressions were a nice contrast, with the reporters on the left looking polished and intensely interested, and the climate scientists on the right haggard and exasperated. They were clearly not paid to put on an act, or else their patience and passion had drained with each repeated answer and dodged pointed question.
Yes, the severity of this storm was likely a result of climate change. No, they cannot model future storms, weather being much harder to model than climate—Yes, they’re different things. No, wave height cannot be predicted precisely; it is suggested those on the coast move inland, particularly in low-lying areas that have already seen significant inundation with sea level rise.
The reporters always seemed to know when each scientist’s limit had been reached and quickly panned back to their picturesque studio before the inevitable eye roll or puff of air from blow-fish inflated cheeks. Rena did that for them.
The weathermen reminded everyone to stay safe, that the trajectory had it barraging the coast over the next day or two, to remain indoors and secure any loose or light belongings and to remain off of and far from the water. The reporters began speculating with economists on repercussions to the fishing industry. Rena felt like she was being warned about the end of the world. It was only two days. Her rapid heartbeat was indication that the reporters excelled at the fear-mongering part of their jobs.
“Winds heavy enough to rock a barge out there!” Grandpa huffed as he and said winds surged into the kitchen, accompanied by some stray leaves. He slid the glass door shut, choking off the howl and clamor and pulled the blinds across. It was pretty ironic that all the small windows around the house had shutters, yet one wall of the kitchen was a floor-to-ceiling piece of glass, nearly half the house in width and reinforced only with several flimsy strips of fabric.
Grandpa shuffled into the living room and plopped into his chair to watch the screen as well. His comb-over had blown the other direction and stuck out at a right angle from his scalp to the side like a baseball hat brim. “What’re they saying, Guppy?”
With perfect timing, the station reiterated the same story she’d already seen a few loops of, with marginally variant phrasing. “Over a day, huh? Good thing we got groceries after school, huh, Guppy? Even if Bob’s was already out of bread. Crackers will do fine. Why, in a crisis, people suddenly have the overwhelming craving to eat their weight in bread and milk is beyond me.” He glanced over to share his amusement and Rena took the opportunity to hold up a finger.
She dove for the coffee table and slid a notepad from under a corner of newsprint. Did they manage to clear the harbor? she wrote.
“Yeah. Dave radioed while I was outside. Says it’s all clear and he and Sam just did a sweep of the harbor. Not a soul in sight and all moorings are as tight as they can be. I’m sure some of the rich folk are keeping their fingers crossed their ladies aren’t gonna be tossed about too much. That’d keep Tom healthily in business.”
And Nor. But Sam and Dave are out there. That’s not clear, she argued.
“Coast Guard does not count. You know this. We’re trained for this kind of thing. Sweet of you to worry, Guppy.” He leaned forward and patted her knee. She held still for the brief contact and they both exhaled after he leaned back—her out of mental relief, him at the physical relaxation. His attention veered back to the weather reporter sweeping his arm over the entire map without any one unique spot to point at.
She wrote again and noticed the band on her arm that she hadn’t snapped. Ha! She was getting better. She tapped her pen on the table to reclaim Grandpa’s focus. You’re not going on shift are you? she panicked.
He shook his head. “Dave and Sam are going to work overtime on this one since they’re already there. Easier to hunker down where we all are than try to trade out and keep track of what’s been checked and what hasn’t. I’m just back-up.”
The radio on his belt clicked and some static came through over the television’s drone, followed by muffled, inarticulate words.
“There you go,” Grandpa said, satisfied, as if the garbled speak was supposed to reassure her. Rena presumed years using that kind of communication and perhaps growing up with that kind of communication rather than her fancy—well, relatively fancy—cell phone meant he could decipher the strange dialect.
The pen tapped on the wood again. What did he say?
“Sam just reported that they’d returned to base. They’ll be fine there. It’s sturdy, prepared for this kind of thing; access to plenty of supplies we keep on hand for emergencies and all that.” Fine. As long as she had Grandpa home.
Said semi-fancy phone dinged at that moment. You guys all stocked up and ready for the storm? It was Kayna.
Yup. Got groceries this morning. You?
Oh yeah, stocked to the ears with baby food. If we get trapped inside long, I’m going to have to start eating mushy peas. And then I’m going to be crabbier than the rugrats! That stuff looks like what comes out of their diapers.
Rena smiled. Is Liam with you?
Yep, I needed some reinforcement for this torturous prison. They want all hands at the hospital just in case. It’s like the apocalypse or something, rather than the same thing that happened in spring. Kayna was careful not to mention any details besides that as it was after that storm that Rena had been found. Obviously Rena didn’t so much remember that one.
“Is that Kayna?” Grandpa asked, finally having noticed the repetitive dinging. Rena nodded. “Her mom on shift?” Rena nodded again. “Tell her if she needs anything, she should just let us know, okay? Shame her father’s still deployed.” Rena nodded again, ignored the mistake on the step-father comment, and dutifully passed along the offer.
Psh, I’m not having him come out in the storm! It’s way too dangerous, especially for him.
I’m just the messenger.
Okay, well thank him from me and tell him he’ll be first I’ll call. Even though he won’t. We’ll be fine. Keep us updated. You guys are awfully close to the water.
Sure thing. We’re on high ground on our hill, and Grandpa’s got his radio.
Okay, just message me so I know you’re alive. None of that avoiding me stuff again, right?
Deal.
The meteorologist glitched, his upper body sliding off his legs to the right and his arm disconnecting to zigzag left. His voice became as fuzzy as Sam’s had been. He was replaced with black and white pixels and his sentence faded into white noise.
Just lost cable.
Well, catch up on that stack of movies I brought over last time then! They’re must-sees. I’m gonna quiz you at school on Monday so I know you didn’t sleep through them.
Rena grinned. Kayna made it sound like such a hardship. Though she didn’t watch movies often, she did enjoy the ones Kayna picked out—well, besides the romantic comedies. Those were too predictable and unrealistic.
◆◆◆
The aliens were just about to blast a hole in the ship the hero had dramati
cally crashed when Grandpa’s radio jolted him awake with a burst of static. It showed how in tune to his work he was that this noise woke him up while alien screeches and futuristic explosions over a roaring storm lulled him into a nap. Grandpa pulled the device off his belt and held it in front of his face as though he could see the sound waves.
More non-english came through, more urgent this time. Grandpa caught her look and translated. “Some guy’s yacht up-shore came loose from his dock. She’s being thrown into the other yachts in the marina.” He shook his head. “Blasted rich folk are too frail to really put their backs into pulling those ropes taught.” He caught her look again. “Don’t worry, Sam and Dave are already on it. They’ll get her quieted down. They said the swells aren’t that bad, and they’re not going far, remember.”
Rena lay back down and rewound to the aliens sneaking up on the smoking ship remains.
“What is this garbage?” Grandpa exclaimed having missed the entire beginning and middle.
She grinned right as the alien leapt on the hero and began to insert its slimy tentacles in places tentacles—or really anything—should never go.
Grandpa grunted in disapproval and stood. “I’m going to check things outside.”
The amount of forest that flew in when he opened the door and the fight he put up against the force of the onslaught in order to make his way outside distracted Rena from her film again. The wind was really going bonkers. She paused the movie—the blood had started spurting so it was going to be a fast-forward part anyway—and moved to peek out the back door, pushing aside a strip of the blinds.
The clouds were so thick that the lighting was extremely poor, like midnight-dark instead of dusk. She could barely make out a few white birch trunks appearing and disappearing as the silhouettes of pine branches waved in front of them. Billows of purple-grey clouds loomed behind bowing treetops that creaked. The house groaned, window shutters slapped, and gusts whistled past obstacles. A slash of lightning shot through them—one one thousand, two one thousand three one thou—and a roll of thunder chased it, actually rattling Grandpa’s mom’s china in the kitchen cabinets. The eye was close.
