by Lynn Vroman
He didn’t ask to come in again–thank God–and I didn’t mention it because Dad was more than likely as lit as a Christmas tree. Instead, he pulled me in for a kiss. This time there was no tentativeness, his scent and warmth creating a stronger brain fuzz than usual.
But not one spark. Damn.
He traced my lower lip with his thumb. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”
“Don’t know. Three months?”
He grinned. “Somethin’ like that.” He gave me another light kiss. “I’ll see you Monday, bright and early, okay?”
“Not tomorrow?”
“No.” Strain tightened the skin around his eyes. “Lena…I–ah, shit. Listen, I need you to know whatever happens, no matter what, I’ll be right here.”
Uh, okay?
I reached for the door handle. “Yeah sure, same here. Monday, then?”
“Count on it.” He gave me a crooked grin that did nothing to hide his tension.
I stayed outside until his taillights disappeared, along with the mental cloud a dose of Zander heroin always triggered.
∞ ∞ ∞
Not even the sight of Dad changed my mood. Bonus, he had a couple buddies over to keep him company, which helped divert his attention from me and Mom, who followed me into my bedroom.
She slept with me on these nights. The extra body heat helped keep me warm on the freezing mattress, and Mom wouldn’t have to deal with perverted comments when the drinking got real serious. Good deal, I’d say.
“So…you want to tell me what put that smile on your face?” She snuggled up close, like we were sisters.
“Zander.”
“Oh? Did he confess his undying love?” She giggled like a teenager.
“Lame, Mom.” I pulled the covers over my mouth to hide the grin stretching my face. “But yeah, you could say that.”
“It’s about time.”
“Everything’s going right, you know?” I moved to hug her. “And I’d say we deserve it.”
So, Zander wasn’t Him. Who cared? He was cute and funny, and using his word–real.
∞ ∞ ∞
I awoke early and laced up my brand new Nikes. Leaving Mom to sleep, I picked my way through the snoring bodies littering the living room floor. The smell of sweat and dope filled the space to the point I swore the warriors in the pictures were holding their noses.
I ran all morning. Through town, all the way to school, around the track a few times, and walked back home.
The run helped calm me enough to think. The main nagging gripe flowing through my head happened to be my new boyfriend. Why hadn’t Zander brought up the episode at the theater? Jake did. A lot. Any normal person would’ve talked about what happened to death. Not Zander. He decided we should start dating. And that fuzz? I’m pretty sure it clogged my brain’s ability to think rationally. Oh, and Him showed up again last night.
I’ll find you.
Too late, buddy.
But even though I broke up with dream guy, my new boyfriend had a few questions to answer. Questions I really didn’t want to ask. Honestly, New Zander made me nervous.
When I walked into the house, Dad’s friends were gone. Mom sat in her chair looking at the door in a kind of panic. Before I said anything, an inhale revealed the rich smell of bacon. I nodded toward the kitchen, and all she gave was a shoulder shrug in response.
Then I heard Dad singing an Elvis song I recognized from when I was a girl, when things weren’t so bad.
When Dad didn’t drink so much.
When he kept his hands to himself.
I gave Mom the signal to stay put and stepped toward the kitchen. Dad stood by the stove, flipping bacon with a fork, dancing and singing to his idol.
Maybe this was a hallucination brought on by the after-effects of Zander heroin. Or maybe I was still spiraling toward crazy town. Something weird was going on because what I saw wasn’t normal.
He looked up from his bacon and the left corner of his mouth lifted. Alcohol and drugs aged him beyond his forty-one years and his skin had a yellow pallor. His hair, messy but freshly washed, was a lighter shade of brown than mine. He’d even shaved, though small pieces of toilet paper stuck to the places where he nicked his cheeks. “Hey, peanut. Hungry?”
“Ah…I…I…”
“You act like you never seen your old man cook breakfast.”
What?
He gave the bacon another turn before guiding me to his chair. “Sit, relax.”
Dad danced back into the kitchen, turning the radio up louder when “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog” came on.
“What’s going on?” I hated how my stomach betrayed me, growling as bacon smells assaulted my nose.
“I have no idea. He woke me up, kissed my cheek. Said he felt like making breakfast.” Fear tinted the edges of her eyes. “Do you think he knows?”
He kept singing along with Elvis, the music thankfully loud enough to cover our voices. His off-key crooning stopped for a second as he swore when an apparent splatter of grease hit him.
“I don’t know how he’d find out.” I made an effort to whisper, not completely trusting Elvis to hide our conversation. “Only Jake and Wilma know.” I hesitated. “And Zander.”
“What do you think it is, then?”
I shrugged as Dad carried two heaping plates of food into the living room. The pancakes already had syrup drizzled on them. “Here you go, girlies.”
We each took a plate, balancing them on our laps. I sniffed it to make sure nothing smelled off, like rat poison or something. Not that I’d know what that smelled like.
“Well, go on. Eat.” He stood there, anticipation lighting his sunken eyes, until we started eating. We nodded our approval, and he grunted with satisfaction, going back into the kitchen.
After we ate, I grabbed Mom’s plate and went to confront him. He stood at the sink, washing the dishes.
“Dad?”
He kept scrubbing. “Yeah, peanut?”
That nickname hadn’t left his mouth since I was five. “You okay?”
“Better than okay. Better than I’ve been in years.”
“It’s just…you haven’t made breakfast in forever.”
He stopped washing dishes and came toward me.
My flinch wasn’t voluntary, but he didn’t seem to notice it.
“Had an awakening last night, baby. A real eye-opener.”
“I don’t understand.” I tried not to cringe when he put his hands on my upper arms, but old habits and all that.
“A voice…God’s voice spoke in my dreams last night. It said, ‘you better get your house in order before it falls down around you.’ Can you believe it? He spoke to me. To me.”
Hairs on the back of my neck jumped to attention.
He continued as if he couldn’t feel my arms shaking. “The Lord said I needed to sober up and fight for what’s mine, said I was about to lose it–everything.” Dad waved a hand through the air, indicating his mass fortune of a rundown trailer and rotting paneled walls.
My lips went numb. “Dad…where did you hear that?”
“Well, I told you. God.”
Terror as real as the sweat dripping down my back suffocated me; the almost tangible feeling slithered through the tiny kitchen. “Are you…What’re you gonna do?”
His smile showed his rotting eyetooth. “Why, I’m going to take care of my girls, peanut.” He pulled me into his arms. “I’d do anything to make sure I don’t lose what’s mine.”
Vomit threatened to escape, the bacon sitting hot and heavy. I wanted to push him away, but feared he’d put me on the ground if I did. My arms stayed at my sides, though. To touch him…disgusting.
Leaving just got harder.
Lena
Dad mapped out a plan. He would stop drinking. Mom would have dinner on the table every night and keep a clean house–top two things on his mom-to-do list. I would stop hanging out with Zander after school, come home on the bus every day,
skip track season this year. We had to fix our family, he said.
All I heard was no work, no money, and no scholarship.
No way was that gonna happen.
Claiming his spiritual awakening exhausted him, he released us to take a nap. As soon as his bedroom door shut, I grabbed Mom’s hand and stalked to my room, leaving the door open a crack.
“What’re we going to do?” Fear made her voice loud and shrill.
I peeked through the crack before guiding her to the edge of the bed. “Shh, keep your voice down, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.” I didn’t believe it for a second. “I’m going to Jake’s, tell him we need to move in now.”
“Jesus, what the hell’s going on?” Her voice was still shaky, but the hysteria calmed a few decibels at the mention of Jake’s name.
“Don’t know and don’t care. If he wakes up, just tell him I went for another run.”
Determination settled on Mom’s face. “Don’t be too long. He’ll get suspicious.”
“I won’t.” I kissed her cheek then went to pop out the window screen.
∞ ∞ ∞
An hour later, the plan was set. It wouldn’t go down until the end of the week, and so having to fake family togetherness was a must–didn’t want the bastard to get curious.
I inched open the front door, trying not to make any noise.
The effort wasn’t necessary.
Dad glanced up from kissing Mom’s neck–his usual rank breath the reason for her wrinkled nose and green cheeks, no doubt–and shot me a yellow-toothed grin. “How was the run?”
I looked at Mom, who kept her eyes focused on mine. “Ah, hi, yeah, it was good.”
“You’re gonna have to cut back on that, too, until we get this house in order.” Those words had my skin prickling.
“Yeah, sure.” I gave Mom a nod. “I’m kind of hungry.”
“Good idea, peanut.” He let Mom get up. “Why don’t you make us something nice, Jacie, to celebrate?” He slapped her butt and went to the front door. His hands shook, and a line of sweat traced the middle of his old T-shirt–side effects of a raging alcoholic going cold turkey. “I’m gonna sit outside, get some fresh air.”
After an air kiss, he went out on the cement blocks. The front door stayed open. He rocked back and forth with his head resting on arms folded across his knees.
Sobriety and Dad weren’t pals.
∞ ∞ ∞
We made sloppy joes and macaroni and cheese–the closest thing we had to a nice dinner. Our barren cupboards and empty fridge hadn’t caught up with Dad’s new outlook. In a few days, we wouldn’t have to worry about it. He could starve for all I cared.
In a rushed whisper, I explained the plan. Some of the things we had to do, her having to play devoted wife being the major negative, would be hard. But Mom was a trooper. “I’ve been faking it for years,” she said. “A few more days won’t hurt.”
Once we cleaned up dinner, the three of us settled in the living room. Dad held Mom in his seat, and I sat in hers. After two hours of watching M*A*S*H reruns off the cable he’d stolen from our neighbor’s feed, he’d had enough family time.
“I’m going to bed.” He wobbled to his feet and pushed Mom from his lap. “Come on, Jacie. Let’s go.”
Fear clamped around Mom’s face, but she made an effort to suppress it, lifting her chin. “Okay, let me say goodnight.”
His right hand curled into a fist. “Hurry up. I’d like to remember what it’s like going to bed with my wife.”
Like it was her fault he’d spent the last twelve years in a drunken, abusive stupor…
He went into their room as Mom pulled me up, hugging me close.
“Just five more days,” I said.
She kissed my cheek. “Piece of cake.”
One last squeeze and reluctant steps took her to the bedroom door. With a sigh shaking her thin body, she disappeared through the entry.
Had to give her credit, going in there would’ve been my hard limit.
∞ ∞ ∞
The heat from a shower relaxed me while I ran through the plan. We’d wait until Friday. I’d go to school as usual, and Jake would pick Mom up at the trailer park entrance at three. With a little help from sleeping pills Jake was gonna get, and a lot of luck, Dad would be passed out. Mom only had to make lunch–and crush them into his soup.
I’d bring our bags in the mornings, with Jake meeting me in the school parking lot to pick them up. In the meantime, Jake would be busy putting extra locks on the door and adding locks to the windows of the apartment. After a day or two, Mom would file a restraining order.
I also promised Jake the covert operation would stay between the three of us–no Zander involvement.
The cold sneaking into the shower jogged me back to reality. Hopefully, this reality would only last until Friday.
After a quick towel-dry, I went through the usual bed-prepping routine.
Blankets in place and alarm set.
I curled into the usual position and tried to force Him’s image into my mind. New Zander might be my boyfriend–still weird saying that–but he didn’t have the same effect on my nerves like dream guy. Him always made me feel safe when life got too overwhelming. He’d–
Time to leave.
Oh, no…
Fear made me dizzy as the bed began to pitch and roll. Water slapping rubber filled the room as massive waves rocked my body, trapping me on the bed. Damp hair knotted around my face and neck. I cleared some of the tangled barrier from my mouth and inhaled until my lungs were full.
As quickly as the bed began to move, it stopped, the bed going completely still.
Shock glued me to the mattress while I gulped in air, eyes eating up the ceiling. “What the hell?”
Before I could explain anything away, the rubber mattress expanded and lifted, circling my waist, my chest, wrapping around my mouth.
Struggling made the hold tighter as I sank deeper. The smell of the old rubber pressed into my nose, making me choke on vomit. Water silenced everything while it filled my ears and mouth, the bed absorbing me. The ceiling hovered above, the usual gray rubber mattress now clear.
I pounded on the top, the freezing water slowing my strength. My lungs wanted to burst, but I urged them to hold on a while longer as I swam what felt like yards from one end to the other searching for a weak spot. When I found the mattress plug, I pushed on it until it popped. A small pocket opened around the valve, and I held my mouth up to it. Stingy gulps of stale air eased the burn in my chest.
This isn’t happening!
A tug on my leg yanked me away from the precious air before I could get enough. My body sped downward, the top of the bed fading and disappearing. Pressure built in my ears and pressed on my chest. The deeper I went, the more desperate I became. I kicked at the hold, feeling nothing solid even though whatever it was dug into my ankle.
My body almost imploded under the pressure, but I finally surfaced in a calm, warm river no deeper than three feet. Stunned, I looked around, pushing hair out of my eyes.
Soft sounds of running water caught my attention. I turned to confront it, losing my balance for a second before planting my feet on the smooth riverbed.
A waterfall, a hundred feet high, hid between jagged cliffs. Water didn’t come crashing on the rocks, though. It glided over them, caressed them, like a slow trickle tapping the basin of a sink. The water was an odd color, too, fluorescent blue but as translucent as glass.
The river separated mossy banks with forests as thick as a state park. Sounds of animals bounced off the bright leaves and sturdy trunks. The same type of frantic sounds I’d heard during a sixth grade field trip to the Philly zoo right before a thunderstorm ripped through. Wherever I was, industrialization hadn’t reached it yet.
The brilliance terrified me. Once I soaked it in, I screamed louder than the noises haunting the woods.
“Hello?” I turned in a full circle, afraid to leave the water. “Is anyone there?”
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The heightening sounds of animals answered.
Raising my voice higher, I tried again. “Help me, somebody!”
No humans hollered back, just the shrill calls from those animals. God, if the creatures were as exaggerated as the stream, the trees… “Help!”
I jumped at a sensation brushing against my shins and glanced down to see what the water hid. Miniature elephants traced their stubby trunks up and down my legs, and like fingers of a jellyfish, they gave light zaps. Their plump bodies were bright white, contrasting with the fluorescent blue of their home.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.” The need to kick them warred with the urge to pet them. Probably better to do neither.
I went to the bank, dodging the rest of the weird crap swimming in the river. Climbing through all that damn nature wasn’t easy, especially without shoes and a sweatshirt heavy with water. After I managed to slip into the copse of trees, I pulled off my sweatshirt, hanging it on a tree branch.
Soaking hair and drenched clothes should’ve left me shivering, but the dense humidity covering the terrain was miserable in a more sticky, August heat way. I wrung out the bottom of my T-shirt, my mind racing.
This…place, so freaking unbelievable. The tree trunks were the same hue as dark chocolate, and the leaves were a green like those dumb posters of Irish fields tacked on Mrs. Terra’s classroom walls.
Ah, now I got it…My mind finally broke.
I twisted the skin on my forearm, flinching from the pain, and touched the moss to my face, inhaling its earthy scent.
Sonofabitch…
Everything felt real, smelled real…my fear was real. All this real crap had a panic bubble building in my gut.
I scanned the horizon, hoping to gauge the time. But the sky didn’t help. It was just a solid sheet of deep purple. Hmm, that explained why everything had a violet tint.
Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of here. All those survival shows said to follow the river when searching for a way out of the woods. Sounded good enough to me.
The calmness of the water, regardless of the waterfall dumping quiet gallons every second, had the hairs on my neck standing at attention. But I erased any radical thoughts–or overly rational ones–and picked through the trees.
