The Half That You See

by Rebecca Rowland

  She never saw them approach, or move, but between one blink and another, they were there, and then there were more. She watched them watch her. The sky lightening but they stayed pitch black. She thought of that sunbaked coffin, hinges so hot she’d probably have burned herself touching them. Lonely out there on that street. Lonely in the ground, too. She pictured David, asleep and useless. Lonely in their apartment as well.

  The sadness, and the loneliness, caused tears to run free down her face. The shame of being afraid of her neighborhood, of secretly thinking certain hateful people had a point…and maybe if they dressed different, and made their neighborhoods nice, maybe if they didn’t have so many babies. Maybe then she wouldn’t be dragging her feet to find another job, maybe then she wouldn’t be aching for the manicured tidy suburbs of her youth. Maybe if she spent a little more time trying to get “to know” people, to let down her guard, be more open to understanding. Too many maybes, and they all felt too late.

  She pushed the buzzer, unlocking the door.

  Better to just let it all happen the way it was lined up to. She was so tired and this whole year had been a blur of grief. Perhaps seeing that coffin was the end point. The door downstairs opened, and then there were footsteps up the steps.

  “Not everyone is out to get you, Helene,” she heard her father say, so close as if whispered in her ear. The knob to her door turned.

  Not everyone is out to get you, Helene.

  It opened.

  Raven O’Clock

  Holley Cornetto

  The first time Jeff entered the cabin, he wasn’t sure how he got there. Everything seemed so distorted that he wondered if he were dreaming. It was cold and dark, with snow flurries drifting through the sky. In the moonlight, the forest surrounded the cabin with a glittering fairy tale embrace. Beautiful, but ominous.

  He walked in the front door. Had he knocked? He couldn’t remember. The last thing he did remember was Zack’s face. He must have been dreaming, because Zack had been covered in blood, pointing an accusing finger at him. You did this to me, the boy seemed to say. The words burned in his mind.

  Inside, the cabin was small but comfortable. A fire crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of gingerbread permeated the room. A log in the fireplace popped like a gunshot, making him jump. To the left, he heard the clattering of pots and pans. He followed the sound to the kitchen, where a woman poured hot cocoa into mugs.

  “Excuse me. I think I’ve lost my way.”

  The woman looked up from her task and smiled. All he could make out of her face were the crow’s feet around her eyes; the rest was out of focus. It was like trying to read with a headache. No matter how he tried to concentrate, he couldn't focus. He could see that she wore a flour-covered apron and that she was short and round. Her braided hair was piled neatly atop her head.

  “Lost your way? Well, that is unfortunate.”

  “I don’t remember how I got here.” He yawned, stretching his arms overhead. To be honest, he really didn’t remember much at all. Not since Zack’s funeral, anyway. Everything since was nothing but a painful blur.

  She smiled again, her teeth flashing peppermint white. “You were in quite a state when you arrived. You were mumbling about death, and someone named Zack.”

  He rubbed the back of his head and grimaced. “Yeah, I think I was dreaming…about my son.” He pulled his hand back and wiped clammy sweat on his jeans. It was always the same dream. The third time he dreamt it, he knew it must be true. Zack blamed him. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; he blamed himself, too.

  She nodded. “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable by the fire? I’m almost finished in here. I’ll come sit with you in a minute.”

  He went back into the den, stopping to admire the set of antlers that hung above the fireplace. Red stains oozed down the wall behind them. Rust from the nails? The shadows from the fireplace must have been playing tricks on him. He used to love hunting before the accident. Before the sight of blood brought to mind things that he didn’t want to remember.

  Near the fireplace, a cheap plastic clock hung on the wall, the type where each hour chirped the call of a different bird. He grinned, checking to see what sound the next hour would bring. The yellow warbler would sing in about twenty minutes, at ten o’clock. He’d always loved bird-watching. He had feeders with seeds and suet cakes. He used to point out the different types to Zack, who had affectionately nicknamed their yard “Bird Central Station.”

  In the corner, there was a Christmas tree. Most of the ornaments hung on it looked homemade. The snowflakes looked to him like spider webs, and the snowmen like skeletons. He shook those thoughts away. He wouldn’t let the darkness follow him here. They were snowflakes and snowmen, and that was that.

  He settled into the recliner. There was a crocheted blanket folded over the back. It smelled of cinnamon and cloves. He pulled it around his shoulders and peered out the sliding glass door to his right. He could see the forest just beyond and the moonlight reflecting off the snow. It had started to fall in earnest. Just enough to be decorative.

  Zack would have liked this cabin. It didn’t seem fair to be here, enjoying this night. It was disconcerting to be living his life when Zack couldn’t live his. There was no reason death should have taken his son and left him behind. It’d have been better if we’d both died.

  The woman entered the room with a tray of cocoa and fresh gingerbread cookies. She set the cocoa—a giant Santa mug, topped with whipped cream and a cinnamon stick—at his place at the table. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had company.” The Santa painted on the mug glared at him. He rubbed his eyes. He was seeing things. He hadn’t slept well since the nightmares began.

  “I…I’m Jeff. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry, but if you gave me your name, I forgot it.”

  She chuckled. “I know who you are, Jeffrey. I used to know your momma, but I haven’t seen you since you were a young man. Got into some trouble back then, as I recall. You worried your poor momma sick.”

  He squinted at her, trying to remember, but the more he concentrated on her face, the more it blurred. Damn, I’m exhausted. Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I wasn’t a good kid. But I turned it around.”

  “So you did. But now you’re here, and you seem troubled. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

  “I honestly can’t recall how I got here. The last thing I remember was dreaming about my son. I might be dreaming still, for all I know.”

  She chuckled, her face lighting up. “Could be, could be. Tell me about your son? If you want to, I mean.”

  He took a sip from his mug and scalded the roof of his mouth. “Zack? He’s a great kid. Was, I mean, a great kid. He liked math and history. He loved the stars. We took him to the planetarium last summer. God, he loved that.”

  “We?”

  “Oh, right. My wife and I took him. She’s Susan. We’ve been married for twelve years. Susan is a great wife. Was a great mom, too.”

  She nodded, urging him on.

  “Zack, he…there was an accident. It was my fault.” He took another sip of cocoa.

  “I see. Now I know why you’ve come. You’re troubled. You need to relax. Put your feet up for a while.” She crossed the room and adjusted the fireplace logs. Jeff noticed stockings with embroidered snowmen and candy canes dangling from the mantle, woven together by a large spider web. No, not a spider web. It was cotton, meant to look like snow.

  “Your momma used to come see me when she was troubled, too. She always said there ain’t nothing like a plate of cookies and a warm drink to set you right.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Oh, I’ve been here too many years to count. So long I can’t remember! I mostly keep to myself. I like the quiet.”

  Jeff nodded. “I understand. Most days I want to just…disappear, you know? Just be away from other people for a while. To think. To sort stuff out.”

  “Do
you want to stay the night? You don’t want to head back down the mountain in the storm. I’ve got a guest room, all done up.”

  Jeff yawned. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to impose.”

  She smiled and cleared away his mug and plate. “I’m sure.”

  Jeff leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Though he tried to relax, he couldn’t stop the flood of images that washed over him. A blood-covered Zack in the passenger’s seat. Zack being loaded into the ambulance. The bloodstains that never washed out of his car. A constant reminder. A stain on his consciousness.

  The yellow warbler chirped ten o’clock.

  Local Boy Killed in Car Accident

  By: Chronicle Staff

  Hillside resident Zachary Grant was killed Thursday evening in what officers are calling a tragic accident. Grant was on his way home with his father, Jeffrey, who allegedly failed to observe a stop sign, causing another vehicle to strike the passenger side of the car. Grant was pronounced dead on the scene. The family will hold a memorial at Richard’s Funeral Home, followed by a private graveside service.

  He wasn’t sure if it had been weeks or months, but eventually, Jeff made his way back to the little cabin. He let himself in again.

  “Hello? Are you home?”

  He heard the familiar clatter of the kitchen and ducked inside.

  She flashed her gleaming smile at him. “Oh, you’re just in time! I made stollen and chamomile tea.”

  He walked into the den and stopped in front of the bird clock. It was almost eastern bluebird o’clock. Large oak bookshelves extended ceiling to floor. He hadn’t noticed them last time, but he'd been exhausted. On the shelves were books that he’d loved as a boy: Frankenstein, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Dracula. He took Alice off the shelf and opened it, delighted to find John Tenniel’s original illustrations inside. He settled into the chair by the fire.

  The woman came out of the kitchen in a sequined red dress, with a small dusting of flour on her patent leather shoes. She placed a cup and saucer on the table, then poured him some tea from the pot. The stollen, still warm from the oven, steamed on the plate.

  He inhaled, savoring the spiced fragrance of the bread. “You look lovely. Do you have plans this evening?”

  She offered a sly smile. “I suspected I’d see you again. You got a taste for my cooking. Just like your momma did.”

  He tried to focus on her face again, but it blurred at the edges, like static on a television screen. “You’re going to spoil me.”

  She glanced at the open book on his lap. “Find something you like?”

  He nodded and held up the book. “I had this one when I was a kid. It wasn’t half as nice, though. Have you seen the illustrations? Zack would’ve loved it. He liked books, you know.”

  She sat on the couch beside his chair. She nodded and sipped her tea. “Did you come back to talk about Zack?”

  Jeff shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Zack. In this place, he shouldn't have to. “No. Well, yes. I…” he sighed. “Susan left me.”

  “You poor child. Do you want to talk about it?”

  He took a bite from his stollen and stared at the fire. The cake was spiced and lightly sweet. Perfect, really. He couldn’t look in her direction; if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the tears that threatened. “I couldn’t…after Zack, I mean…I wasn’t me. I’m still not me. She needed to move on. To clean out his room, to donate his things to charity. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go. It felt like…a betrayal. Like I was trying to forget him.” There were other reasons too, but he didn’t want to think about them. Not here.

  She leaned closer. Her perfume smelled like vanilla and stargazer lilies. She placed a heavy hand on top of his. Her touch sent goosebumps up his arm; her hand was freezing. “People grieve in all kinds of ways. No two people are the same.”

  “I just needed a break. To get away. Losing Zack was hard enough. But now, with Susan gone too, I don’t know what to do with myself.” The truth was, the images of Zack were no longer mere flashes. They haunted him constantly, always lingering in the back of his mind. He felt Zack's presence in every room, watching and judging. He could feel the subterranean unease deep within his belly creep up the back of his throat. He swallowed it down with another sip of tea.

  Only here was he safe. Only here his demons couldn't find him.

  “You should stay here. You can read whatever you like. I’ve got some snowshoes and a sled. And puzzles! Do you still like puzzles? You can go ice fishing out on the lake tomorrow if you want.”

  Jeff took a sip from his cup, but pulled it away quickly when he felt a sting. He touched his lip, pulling his fingers away to find blood. Looking down, he noticed a tiny chip on the rim of the cup, and a crimson smudge. He sat the mug back down and checked the time.

  Ten after eastern bluebird, but the clock had not chirped.

  Dear Jeffrey,

  I imagine that you’re not surprised to find I’ve left. I’m sorry. I feel the constant weight of Zack’s absence, and while I try not to blame you, I sometimes wonder if things might have been different if I’d been the one to drive him home that night. Were you not paying attention to the road? Were you drinking? I hate myself for asking these questions, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to hate you. I’m afraid that if I stay, eventually I will.

  Love,

  Susan

  Jeff didn’t wait long before he returned to the cabin again. He entered and headed straight for the kitchen. “Hello?”

  The woman glanced up at him. She looked tired, older than he remembered. She moved slower, more mechanically. There were stains on her dress, and it didn’t seem to fit her quite right. “You again, huh? Guess you’re feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “I…” he hesitated. “Are you alright?”

  She waved a hand at him in dismissal. “Go on. I’ll be out in a few minutes. As soon as I finish up here.”

  He left the kitchen and walked back into the den. He glanced over the fireplace and noticed the rack of antlers missing, a dark stain on the wall outlining where it had hung. He stepped closer to the mantle. A fine layer of dust covered everything.

  He took his usual seat by the fire. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. He pulled the handle on the recliner, and the chair fell back, fully reclined, with a loud pop. He tried to pull it up at least part way, but it seemed to be stuck.

  He was still pulling at the handle when she emerged from the kitchen. She pressed her knee into the back of the chair, and then tugged the handle. The chair jerked back into position, sending up a cloud of dust.

  Jeff erupted into a sneezing fit. "Thanks," he said, once he was able.

  “Mmhm.” She placed a plate and mug on the table beside the chair. The plate had sugar cookies tinged with black. She filled his mug with tea. “So, what brings you back here, Jeffrey?”

  He took a sip of tepid tea. The mug was stained and cracked. "After Susan left, I couldn’t keep myself together. I fell back into bad habits, missing work. They told me not to come back. And now…now, I have nothing.”

  She nodded. “You never told me about Zack’s accident. What happened?” Something about her tone brooked no argument.

  “I was driving. It was late. I ran a stop sign. I didn’t see the other car, not until it was too late.”

  “So you blame yourself.” It wasn’t a question.

  He felt a familiar lump in his throat and tried to swallow it down. “What happened to the house? It looks like some of your things are broken. The antlers are gone.” He motioned vaguely to the empty spot over the fireplace.

  She shrugged. “Things break. Stuff gets dirty. But, you ain’t here to talk about me. Have you talked to Susan?”

  Jeff could feel the pressure in his jaw from grinding his teeth. “A few times.”

  “And?”

  He exhaled sharply. “And, I liked it better when you didn’t ask so many questions.
”

  She placed her mug down hard, jarring her saucer. “You’re the one that came to me, mister. You’ve got no right to be so grouchy.”

  “You’re right. I apologize.” His face burned with shame at her rebuke. “I think I’ve forgotten how to talk to people…how to be in the world.” He glanced around the cabin. There was a draft blowing in. He picked up the moth-eaten crochet blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. The air had a chill. A certain gloom had settled over the place. He didn’t remember it being this way before, so dreary and bleak.

  She leaned over and patted his shoulder. “That’s all right. You’ve been in quite a state. Quite a state indeed.” She smelled like air freshener, sprayed to cover up something under the surface. He couldn’t place the scent. It was a smell he associated not with people, but with damp.

  He got up and walked across the room to the bird clock. The images had faded, and it was hard to tell one bird from another. It should be chiming two o’clock, but the room was silent.

  Local Man Arrested in DWI

  By: Chronicle Staff

  On March 3, local police officers conducting a routine patrol observed a car driving erratically, unable to maintain a lane. Officers initiated a traffic stop, and made contact with Jeffrey Grant, 35 of Hillside.

  While speaking with Grant, officers observed signs of intoxication. After failing standard field sobriety tests, he was placed under arrest for DWI.

  He was processed and charged additionally for driving with a suspended license, reckless driving, and failure to maintain a lane.

  He was released into the custody of a friend pending an initial appearance in municipal court.

  Winter passed into spring. It had been a while since he’d gone to the cabin. Each time he visited, it was a little less like the first. Thunderstorms threatened on the horizon, and he hesitated on the front porch. Part of the roof was collapsing. I’ll have to offer to fix that up for her. He opened the door and stuck his head inside. The house was dark. He wasn’t sure if she was home.