Hugo & Rose

by Bridget Foley

  Rose, whose dreams were forever concerned with the attainment of Castle City and the drama of the island, did not experience this same exorcism. The feeling of “never enough” was never relieved. Her nights were already too full solving the puzzle that she and Hugo had been working on since she was a little girl.

  So when Rose woke from the island to the real world, the feeling of “never enough” loomed just as large for her in the morning as it had in the night.

  * * *

  The air in the saw grass was muggy. Something about the closeness of the blades trapped the moisture from the ground, keeping it from escaping into the outer atmosphere.

  Rose’s arms ached, the handles of the woven buckets digging into her palms.

  She was, admittedly, a little grumpy with Hugo.

  From all vantages it continued to appear as though Castle City were still unshielded. Rose had witnessed the Natters fly through it, their dirty white bodies gliding between the towers.

  But despite the fact that the birds seemed to be able to enter the city, Rose and Hugo were frustrated in their attempts to get to it.

  It loomed larger, looked closer … but it remained unreachable.

  They had first tried to get at it by way of the Lagoon … where they had spotted the change. But when they returned to the hill, just outside the forest, they discovered that several Spider burrows had been dug into the hillside.

  This, like the disappearance of Castle City’s shield, was something new.

  “What are they doing here?” Rose had whispered to Hugo as they hunkered down in the shadows of the trees. Inside their fresh dirt lairs, she could see the Spiders’ dark, hairy limbs at rest.

  Hugo shrugged. But they both knew they wouldn’t be getting to the city this way.

  They had tried the Orb, but the string of its destinations seemed to have shortened. It would carry them from the Rock Cove to the Lagoon and back again, but the areas to which it had reliably delivered them before—the headwaters, the swamp, the ruins—all of these seemed to have been permanently closed.

  The new proximity of the Spiders to the Lagoon ultimately rendered the Orb useless. Soon after they discovered the Orb now had only two destinations, they realized that something about the mechanics of its travel was calling the Spiders into the Lagoon when it arrived.

  No sooner would they open the porthole than they would hear the crashing of a Spider making its way to the Lagoon. On one occasion the Spider had already been waiting there and Rose had barely had enough time to close the door before it leaped onto the Orb, rocking it in the water. Rose had half worried it would cling to the vessel and follow them back to the cove. But they had arrived safely and the Spider had remained behind.

  With the Orb out of commission, Hugo suggested that they try to reach the city on foot. He reasoned that since some of the Spiders had taken up residence outside the Lagoon, it might be possible that their numbers were fewer in the Spider Chasm, where they had traditionally been found.

  Just beyond Spider Chasm, the land gave way to the rocky hills that eventually curled around the Lagoon’s forest. If they could get over the canyon, they could follow the ridge of the hills and get at the city from that angle.

  But even with fewer Spiders, the Chasm was still a dangerous place. Climbing its sides took hours, and it was never a good idea to allow oneself to be trapped between two stone walls.

  So Hugo decided that they would leap over the Chasm … they just needed sand from the beach and sunlight.

  Which was why Rose was carrying grass buckets full of pink sand through the muggy saw grass and quietly resenting Hugo.

  She watched him walk ahead of her, pushing the grass away with his elbow, his own set of pails in his hands. He hadn’t so much consulted her about this idea as told her this was what they would be doing next.

  And there was something else … he’d gotten quieter since they had discovered the shared nature of their dreams. More private now that each knew the reality of the other.

  Whereas before he would have been singing or telling jokes as they made their way through the saw grass, now he was silent.

  Rose could hear him breathing hard. She felt a drop of sweat join another on her forehead and make a break down the side of her neck.

  “Do you think it’s weird?” Rose’s voice sounded strange in the heated quiet.

  “Huh?” Hugo didn’t look back at her.

  “Do you think it’s weird that this is the first time the island has changed?”

  Hugo stopped, setting his buckets down. “What do you mean? Things have changed before now. When I first met you here, we were kids. You’re not a kid now.”

  He gave a playful leer and winked.

  “You know what I mean!”

  Hugo nodded, wiping his brow. He looked up at the clouds covering the sky. “I do, Rosie.… Just, can we talk as we walk? I want to be ready when the sun breaks.”

  “I’m not the one who put down my buckets.” Rose glared at him.

  He sighed and picked up the load again. “I’d say your attitude is something that’s changed.”

  Rose realized he was right. He may have gotten quieter, but she had become increasingly frustrated with the state of the island. She couldn’t help feeling that they should be at that (goddamn) city by now.

  This was a change. They had been trying to get to Castle City for years. For decades they had spent their nights finding new ways to try to get there, the same obstacles always thrown in their way. And until recently she had been comfortable with the never-ending pursuit.

  Why was she so impatient with it now?

  Hugo suddenly stopped up ahead of her, his body obscured by the stalks of grass.

  “Wh—”

  Something about his posture stopped the word before it was fully formed. From behind, Rose could make out the baskets in his hands quivering.

  And then she saw it, waiting silent beyond the weave of grass. A gloss of scales stretched taut over an eyeless skull the size of her living room sofa.

  Blindhead. Only one of its skulls was visible, the tight skin blushing with an unnatural glow, pulsing ugly hues of red, green, and blue—a pattern Hugo and Rose had come to know and fear. It meant prey was near.

  And it meant that Blindhead was hungry.

  Hugo was only steps from the mouth. Its wire-thin tongue flickered out, back and forth. Searching. Sensing.

  Neither Hugo nor Rose moved.

  Rose forced herself to breathe shallowly. Her eyes strained in their sockets, scanning the surrounding grass. Where were the others?

  Slowly, Hugo bent his knees, lowering the sand toward the ground. The baskets sagged as they touched down, bulging as he pulled his fingers from their handles. Only a foot from Hugo’s lowered face, the monster’s tongue continued its ceaseless waving.

  Still crouched, Hugo angled his hand toward the nearest stalk of grass. His fingers wrapped around the blade with slow deliberation; he’d need a sword if they were going to get out of this.

  He pulled.

  The blade’s roots tore free from the soil, lifting the basket and setting loose a soft swish of pink sand.

  At the sound, all three of Blindhead’s sightless skulls flew up from the grass. Their single body rose up beneath them, a redwood-thick cylinder of scaled muscle twisting into a coiled tower thirty feet high. The heads hovered over Hugo, tongues rattling against jagged teeth. Poised to strike.

  Hugo stood frozen beneath the massive serpent, his hand still on the saw grass. Its heads would be on him in seconds.

  On instinct Rose began shouting. “Hugo! Chasm! Sand!”

  The heads snapped in her direction as she turned and started to run. Rose ran at the stalks, pushing them into one another, hoping to make as much noise as possible.

  The beast took the bait, whipping its bulk away from Hugo. Straight toward Rose in a twisting spiral, the heads competing for first place.

  One of her baskets caught on a stalk of the saw grass, wren
ching Rose’s arm and dumping its contents onto the ground. Rose turned … the creature was gaining quickly.

  Usually they encountered Blindhead in the forest, where it was no work at all for Rose and Hugo to tangle it up in a mass of trees. But like the Spider and the Plank Orb, Blindhead wasn’t operating by its usual rules. Out here in the saw grass there was no way to trap it. No obstructions. Nothing to hide behind.

  Rose hoped Hugo understood what she had shouted.

  Still running, she threw the empty basket out over the grass. It made an arc in the sky before landing and rolling over the tops of the blades. Beneath it the stalks began to clatter. One of the monster’s heads turned toward the sound for a second … slowing a bit. But the other two heads continued forward, the new sound less enticing than the steady beat of Rose’s feet against the ground.

  Rose chucked the other basket. Heavier, this one dropped a trail of sand in its wake, a quiet shoosh that made even less noise than the last.

  Shit. Shit. Rose’s only option now was to keep running.

  The sun broke overhead, beating down a clear heat. Behind Rose the swishing of Blindhead’s body against the grass and the rattling of its tongues against teeth drew nearer. Rose’s lungs burned with effort.

  A thunk landed to her left. Then another. And another.

  Rose looked up in time to see a large rock fly over her head and land among the saw grass. The sound drew the attention of two of the heads. It stopped moving forward, now confused as to which sound to follow.

  Hugo.

  Rose turned away from the descent of the stones, now trying to soften her steps. She wove between the blades of grass, holding her breath. The grass began to thin out as the soil beneath her feet became more and more rocky. She was close to the edge of the chasm.

  Maybe she had a chance …

  She looked around. Blindhead’s central skull was still fixated on her, pulling against its brothers. It released a glassy hiss in her direction.

  And then Rose stumbled, her arms flailing outward, knocking the stalks nearest her. The blades knocked against one another. Too loud.

  All three heads turned toward her. The confusion was gone. The monster began to move again.

  Rose dropped, hunkering down onto the balls of her feet. She tucked her mouth into her knees … Don’t breathe, don’t move. Not a sound.

  The swish of Blindhead’s movement paused. But it was close.

  Rose could make out the edge of the chasm through the thinning stalks. Her eyes swept the ground. It has to be there. Please, please be there.

  A small pool of iridescent sand … right on the edge. Sparkling in the full, clear sunlight. Rose almost cried into her knees.

  Above her, a volley of small rocks swooped through the air. Rose took off toward the sand as the rocks hit the ground in a loud patter. Thump, thump, thump. The snake’s heads braided themselves in confusion, their necks pulling in different directions. A chorus of angry hissing followed Rose as her feet hit the sand and her body launched itself into the air above the canyon.

  She landed badly, her feet impacting the hard dirt of the other side. She fell forward a few steps before collapsing to her knees. Rose stayed there a moment, panting.

  “That’s … easier … to do … on the beach.”

  She looked up. Hugo was right next to her, smiling. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Ditto.”

  Rose rolled over. Flopping onto the ground. Breath slowing.

  Hugo walked to the edge of the chasm. On the other side, Blindhead slithered along the edge, its heads flailing. Searching for a way over. Hugo’s laughter echoed over the canyon, and all three of the snake’s heads hissed as the sound reached its ears. It turned and disappeared into the grass.

  Rose sat up and took in the sight of Hugo watching the creature disappear. Everything about him was so lovely. The lines of his calves disappearing into the frayed cuff of his pants. The spread of his back, angled beneath the soft white linen of his shirt, the way it moved as he put his hand up over his brow.

  Her rescuer.

  He was so beautiful here.

  And, of course, so was she.

  But in real life …

  Rose frowned, not wanting to think about it.

  Hugo turned, seeing her dour face. “Stop it, Grumpy.”

  “Stop what?”

  “You know what.”

  Rose sighed. “Doesn’t it ever feel to you like we’ve just been watching the same bad monster movie from the fifties over and over again, only we never reach the end? I mean, it’s run from the giant monster. Defeat the giant monster. Try to get to the city.”

  “We’re getting closer.”

  “You always say that.”

  “It’s always true.”

  Rose fixed him with a look. Come on.

  “Rose, things are finally happening! We met each other in real life! We saw someone on the island, the shield is gone. Things are changing, new things are happening. Even just now … even that was new. I’m telling you we’re going to get to the city.”

  “But why are we trying to get to there?!”

  Hugo shrugged and sat next to her. “Because … I don’t know. Because it’s important. Because everyone’s there.”

  “But why are they there? Why have we been doing the same thing, over and over again for years? I just want to know why. Why do we do what we do? Why this? Why us?”

  He smiled, gentle. “Because you’re my Rosie. And I’m your Hugo.”

  “That’s not the reason.”

  “It’s my reason.”

  Rose turned to look at him. His face was inches from hers. He was looking at her, taking in every detail of her face.

  And then he leaned in to kiss her.

  The skin of his lips was soft and warm, pressed gently against her mouth. His eyes closed, naked to the sensation. Rose breathed in the salted caramel scent of him.

  And surrendered to it.

  * * *

  The kiss haunted Rose.

  It was something new.

  But unlike the shield on Castle City, the shifting location of the Spiders, or even seeing another human on the island … the kiss had provoked something Rose had never experienced in a dream.

  Lust.

  Rose shook her head to think of it … but that’s what it was.

  Lust.

  That blooming warm sensation five inches below her navel. The ache in her breasts, the spread of heat across the back of her neck.

  Of course she had felt it before. With Josh and earlier boyfriends, that sudden urge to jump on top of them. To put her mouth on them, anywhere, everywhere. To consume them.

  But, Rose would be the first to admit, it had been a while.

  Goodness, it had been a long, long time.

  The night they conceived Adam. Soaked in tequila. Isaac with her parents for the weekend, so they could attend a friend’s wedding.

  Rose had pushed Josh onto the hotel room bed, yanking on his trousers, hiking up the hem of her cocktail dress. They should have just undressed, their clothes were a mess by the time they got back to the reception, but Rose could not have waited. She wanted the feeling of Josh inside her, his mouth on her nipple, his eyes full of her.

  That was what she had felt when Hugo kissed her.

  The beginning of that dangerous, wonderful feeling of need.

  That was something new.

  But it was just a kiss.

  twelve

  It took Rose days to get ready for the party.

  We should have just booked a place, she thought, dusting the baseboards. Then I wouldn’t have to clean.

  In addition to the shopping and the wrapping, the calling of mothers of those children with allergies, the tracking down of those who had not yet RSVP’d, the assembling of gift bags and the ordering of cakes, there was the cleaning.

  When Rose complained of this task to Josh, he rolled his eyes.

  “The house looks fine.”

  And indeed, to
him, it did. Rose kept a neat house, but it was not in her eyes clean … or at least not clean enough to be seen.

  While Josh thought of Isaac’s party as a gathering of boys, Isaac’s friends from school and soccer, Rose saw it as an invitation to judgment by the larger counterparts who would accompany them.

  Namely their mothers.

  Mothers whose eyes would look past the balloons and the streamers and see the dark spots on the carpet, the dust behind the television, and the crumbs by the toe kicks. Mothers who would notice the weeds on the beds next to the house and the cobwebs on the stucco.

  So she dusted. And mopped. And weeded. She power-washed the garage door. Took a broom to the sides of the house.

  She even deep-cleaned the rooms no one would have any business visiting. The bedrooms got a thorough going-over, because even though the party would be held downstairs and in the backyard, one never knew.

  But still there were things she could do nothing about. The stubborn stain on the couch. The dry patch in the backyard.

  Isaac had invited Simon from his soccer team, which meant that his mother would be coming. What’s-her-name, with the boobs and the judgy look.

  Rose hated the thought that she would be here, seeing the inside of her house. Feeling sorry for her when she saw the dry patch (Oh, poor Rose, can’t afford new sod) or the stain (Well, of course it’s stained; Rose can barely keep up).

  But … Kaitlin, that was her name … was just one of the invading horde. Rose felt vulnerable to all of them.

  But Zackie invited who Zackie wanted. And he was a popular boy.

  So Rose cleaned and hoped they would be able to put the bounce house over the dry patch. She bought a pair of throw pillows to hide the stain.

  There was, of course, another person Rose thought of while she cleaned.

  Hugo.

  He would be coming, too. She thought of how he would see the details of her life: the family portraits on the wall, the granite countertops, the row of little hooks holding the children’s jackets and backpacks.