by Nancy Widrew
#
Before wading into the water, Jeremy rolled up his pants until they sat securely above his knees. He held the candle high to keep the wick from getting wet. As the flame burned brightly, his body, from the waist down, wound up soaked to the skin. Jeremy cursed out loud. The cold hit like a sheet of ice yet his mind flipped to an image of pleasant family vacations off the coast of Maine. If only he were back in Ogunquit, he thought, allowing himself a moment of reflection. There he was, a kid playing in the sand with the sun streaking his hair, his mother rubbing baby oil on his nose, not a problem in the world. He shook his head as reality set in and he mumbled words of encouragement. “You can do this,” he said, as a vague plan coalesced into one course of action.
After placing the candle securely in the boat’s holder, he climbed inside and unhitched the rope. He pushed off with an oar and paddled until he came to the middle of the lake, its deepest point. Then he lifted both oars from the water and secured them in their collars. Taking the candle from its holder, he held it at arms’ length, moving it in a semi-circle. The water surrounding the boat was ink black, yet comforting in its stillness. Nonetheless, Jeremy sensed the lake’s ghosts growing thirsty and lying in wait. Good. With a reckless laugh, he flung the candle into the beckoning, dark refuge, listening as it fizzled before dying.
He leaned back and felt the world shrink as he, too, grew smaller. His head ached from the transformation, and he heard himself say, “Mama,” though she had been dead many years. He closed his eyes, content in her arms, blocking out the hurt as she rocked his tiny form in a gentle dance. He snuggled against her warm breasts and osmotically relinked their bodies through a primitive phrenic membrane. Immersed in her comfort, he totally relaxed, his mind floating above while his body rested below.
She kissed him over and over with a mother’s undying love. Then reluctantly, yet with great care, she laid him down in the boat, now a cradle. I have to leave now, she said. Come with me. Mama loves you.
“Don’t go!” he cried. “Don’t leave me.”
Come, she repeated. There’s no need for fear. Just follow.
From her arms draped a soft, white blanket, its warmth waiting to envelop him. Flooded with relief, he reached out to grab it, but came away with nothing but air. He tried again with the same result and fell back, defeated, useless. He dropped his head into his lap.
Now he knew he was the only one here, the only sentient being. But at least this was his world, under his control, and he could end it with a simple act. It would be so easy and of no Earthly consequence. In fact, it might even be to Karen’s benefit. Karen? He smiled then chortled as he reminded himself that she wasn’t real and only existed, along with the others, in his mind. Moments later, she was less than a memory, less than nothing.
He drifted along until he became aware of a thunderous roar ahead and realized he was approaching the falls. He pictured one of monstrous proportions ready to pick him up in its churning turbulence as it traveled on to the infinite. As he gazed up toward an imagined heaven, he beseeched God for guidance, a God he wasn’t sure he believed in. Having come to a decision, he said a final good-bye and prepared for the oncoming waves with their frothy crests to carry him to his final destination.
Something felt wrong. A strong vibration shook his body, sucking his soul, stealing his spirit. It was as if a large mythical sea creature were closing in for the kill, ready to feast. Intuitively, Jeremy knew what—no who—it was.
Just below the surface, Rahm grabbed hold of the rope, looped it across his chest and pulled.
Jeremy did not need to see his eternal enemy to establish his presence since the current that passed between them was alive with an electric charge, one of a mutually repulsive nature yet strong enough to attract. As Jeremy felt the boat veer in a different direction, his hand gripped an oar, hoping for Rahm’s head to emerge so he could strike him with a mortal blow, tearing open his skull, turning the water red.
When they neared the shore, Jeremy could see Karen’s pale, anguished face outlined in the lantern’s light. His first reaction was to blame her for this new humiliation, but in finding her so distraught with her fingers clenched to her chest in a prayer-like pyramid, he knew he was being unfair. And furthermore, how could he leave her here alone at their mercy? He climbed from the boat, head down, ashamed, ignoring Rahm who stood staring at him with a look both intense yet indifferent as if he were an object, a thing, solely for his use. Jeremy went up to his wife.
“Don’t be mad at me,” she begged before he could say anything. “I know I was being silly and obsessive, but I couldn’t stop worrying. And after a while when you didn’t come back, I asked Rahm to find you. Please don’t be mad,” she begged again.
He reached out and kissed the tip of her nose. “Mad? Mad that you love me? You’re all that matters, and I’d have done the same if you were out there alone. Only I wouldn’t have waited so long.”
Pressing his chest against Karen’s, Jeremy felt her body melt into his. He pulled back a bit to look in her eyes, a mirror to her soul, connoting how grateful she was that her worst fear proved groundless. When she returned his kiss, he, too, felt grateful. Hands in hand, they climbed the rocks and joined the others already dressed and helping themselves to food. If anyone sensed a near crisis, they didn’t let on. Karen and Jeremy took their plates and moved off by themselves to a clearing. A few feet above their laundry hung on a line where it clapped in the breeze like an annoying bark from a dog.
#
After returning to the common area later that evening, the tribe sat around the dining room table snacking on leftovers. As member’s toasted each other with a Happy Thanksgiving, Karen swallowed misery while Jeremy remained mute, his normally intelligent face uncomprehending and drained of life. Pushing back his plate, he walked off to the small piece of ground that had become his own, stooping like a swaybacked horse worked far beyond its prime.
Karen’s voice cracked. “Don’t you see what you’re doing to him? You’re killing him. And me too. I beg you. Let us go.”
Everyone looked away, up, down, anywhere but at her, as if she held a mirror to their shame.
“You’ll never get a baby from us. Never! Don’t you realize that? It’s been six weeks since we’ve been here, and we haven’t made love once. There’s no reason to hold us any longer.”
Rahm’s head shot up, his narrowed eyes spearing her with a flash of insight.
She stared back, pleading, beseeching, hoping for an empathetic response. All she got for her effort was silence. Rahm kept the mystery behind his insight, along with its looming solution as cloaked as the seeds inside a forbidden fruit. “Bastard!” she screamed. “All of you.” Seething with fury, she threw the contents of her glass at Rahm. As he calmly wiped the liquid from his shirt, she uttered a cry of triumph and stunned herself by gesticulating with her middle finger. Taking pride in her defiance, she went back to comfort her heartsick husband.
She found him lying on the mattress with the blanket pulled over his head. Sensing he was awake, she climbed inside forming an s-shape behind him, and reached up to stroke his hair. Turning to face her, he kissed her deeply, but it was a kiss of desperation, not love. They lay awake for hours, bodies entwined but barely moving, before drifting off to a restless but well-needed sleep.
Chapter 12
Carl and Joan shared the same spot in Dinky Cave that Karen and Jeremy had two months ago. Alongside them, Phil, Jeremy’s replacement, and his girlfriend, Patty, were finishing their lunches. Carl took a cookie from a bag, passing the rest along.
“Thanks for bringing us here,” said Phil, food spraying from his mouth. “I’d like to take one more look at the waterfall before we leave. That is, if you don’t mind. Anyone care to join me?” Patty, adoration written in her moon-struck eyes, jumped up.
Joan scowled as the couple walked out of ears’ reach. Like new lovers everywhere, the twosome held hands. “I can’t believe he just left his wife. Poor Wen
dy! Imagine, they’ve only been married three years and have a two-year old. It’s disgusting.”
Carl sighed, raised and lowered his shoulders, and shook his head. “It came as a complete surprise to everyone, but apparently the affair’s been going on for some time. Just shows you never can tell.”
“Well, you’d better not pull that crap on me.”
“No chance,” said Carl. “I’m a till death do us part kind of guy. Hey,” he said, suddenly startled. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” As Joan rotated her head, her helmet’s lamp picked up movement along the far wall. “You’re right. I do see something and, uh, I hear something too.”
From out of nowhere, Rachel and Rahm appeared as if molded from mist. Their faces held beatific expressions, intending to relax and mesmerize any strangers they should happen upon.
“Hope we didn’t scare you,” said Rahm. “We didn’t mean to sneak up like that.” He gestured to Rachel, knowing her five-foot, ninety-five-pound frame made her look harmless. He pushed her forward. “This is my scouting partner, Rachel. I’m Rahm.” Dressed more conservatively than usual, both in boots, jeans, and cotton shirts, their appearance didn’t register alarm, but Rahm’s disheveled beard and hippie-like long hair struck a chord in Joan.
“We thought we were alone here,” she said. “We didn’t see another car.” She exhaled slowly as her pulse returned to normal.
Rahm went into his well-rehearsed routine about living nearby and cleaning the trash left by local teenagers from weekend romps. He paused and cast his eyes sideways to Rachel with its familiar signal. Before she could respond, however, Phil and Patty reappeared from the waterfall. Phil, as broad as he was tall, brandished an imposing and intimidating figure, especially when he stamped the mud from his boots like a nasty giant in a fairytale. Rachel flinched, but Rahm continued to smile. Carl made the introductions. They all shook hands.
“Beautiful here, isn’t it?” said Phil,” searching for a commonplace subject, one as mundane as the weather. But Carl had something to ask, something vital, and removed a picture from his wallet. He passed it to Rahm. “You don’t recognize these people, do you?” he asked.
Rahm looked closely, turning the picture in his hand. He shook his head. “Sorry. Never seen them.” Rachel leaned over, giving the picture a cursory glance, followed by a definitive, “No.”
Carl sighed. “You sure? They disappeared months back. We think they went to a different cave south of here, but we still have hope. At the very least, we’d like to find their—their b-bodies.” His voice cracked and dropped to a whisper as he said that forbidden word, having only broached the possibility the day before. “Well, thanks anyway,” he added. Turning to his caving buddies, he said, “Guess it’s time we got going.”
The foursome gathered up their belongings. Carl made a show of picking up every last piece of debris. The last thing he’d want is to be accused of not respecting the spelunkers’ code of conduct.
Rachel and Rahm accompanied the day-trippers to the passageway along the wall. “Sorry about your friends,” said Rachel. “You can be sure we’ll inform the authorities if we see or hear anything.” With a final handshake and a wave of her arm, she added, “Have a safe trip home.” When the group was farther up and behind a bend, she spoke to Rahm, cupping her fingers around her mouth. “Phew, that was a close call.”
Rahm shrugged. “Not really. I wasn’t going to suggest anything even before that muscle-bound specimen appeared. Okay, maybe I considered it for a minute, but it’s just as well. We have enough problems with Karen and Jeremy. Of course, when Mr. Universe did show up, well—it was out of the question. But we did learn something important.” With the small group out of range, he spoke in a normal pitch. “People are still looking for them. Who’d have thought after all this time?”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Rachel. “They’re done with this cave. Hey look,” she said scraping the ground with the toe of her shoe. “They left a bunch of change. We can always use money instead of the typical junk people leave behind.” She got down on her hands and knees and began gathering nickels, dimes, and quarters. “It never fails. People are such slobs.”
#
“What do you make of those two?” asked Joan as she fastened her seatbelt in the car.
“Seemed weird to me,” said Carl, “but then all people around here have their heads on backwards. Damned crazy hillbillies.”
“More like a case of their heads up their asses. You know—cerebral rectalitis.” Phil laughed at his joke, along with everyone else.
“Did you notice their eyes?” said Patty. “Like they had some kind of weird disorder. My mom’s eyes wandered when she got glaucoma.”
“Aren’t they too young for that?” asked Joan.
Carl shrugged. “Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s not our problem. Unless they’re hiding something.”
“You think they are?” said Joan.
“Why would they?” said Carl, considering it. “No, it wouldn’t make sense, and I’m beginning to think this is the end.” He sniffed and blew his nose in the tissue Joan handed him. Then feeling the strain from dashed hopes, he turned on the radio to help him unwind. They rode the rest of the way with barely a word spoken.
Nearing Baltimore, Carl dropped Patty off first at her parents’ house. She was in her senior year at the University of Maryland and still lived at home, commuting to school. She thanked Carl and Joan for the best adventure in her life, and they both had to admit she seemed nice enough, but when she gave Phil a long, noisy kiss in the back seat, they both rolled their eyes in unison.
“You going back to the rooming house?” asked Carl, when Patty was gone.
“Yeah,” said Phil. He spent half the week in the suburbs, trying to work things out with Wendy, and the other half in a run-down dwelling on the outskirts of the city.
“I know it’s none of my business,” said Carl, pulling up to the rooming house, “but it won’t help your marriage if you keep seeing Patty.”
Phil puffed his cheeks and exhaled with a whoosh. “I know. I just need some time to figure it out.” He grabbed his backpack, dragging it along the seat. “See you Monday, Carl,” he said, smiling wanly, a man with a heavy load, only the burden was not as it appeared. To Joan, he tipped an imaginary cap and said the standard, “Nice seeing you again.”
Phil took out his key and let himself in, climbing to the second floor. The table lamp with its square-shaped shade had been left on all day, revealing dirty walls in need of a new coat of paint. Phil didn’t care. He flung his backpack on the unmade bed and immediately began rummaging through, searching for his discovery. Finding it, he held the pen up to the light: an A.T. Cross 10 K gold-filled ballpoint. He had noticed its shiny end peaking from a rock near the waterfall and had covered it with his foot. After waiting until Patty turned her back, he surreptitiously placed this golden bonanza inside his bag’s outer flap. And now holding his breath as if he were underwater, he looked closely and read the initials: J. M. D.—Jeremy Martin Dryer—engraved on the barrel. So he and Karen had been to Dinky Cave, after all.
Just like Jeremy, he had a similar pen, except his was silver colored with a chrome-matte finish, a gift from his parents upon college graduation. He had noticed and admired Jeremy’s pen, clipped to his shirt pocket, right before his disappearance. And now here it was, with its haunting request: tell someone: Carl, the authorities, anyone! Without doubt, that would be the proper thing to do. On the other hand, Jeremy and Karen were likely dead. Lost in the cave, they would have starved to death, but in the improbable chance some miracle occurred (and he had a feeling those screwball hillbillies knew more than they let on), maybe he should keep his mouth shut; he liked his job. Of course, it was a temporary promotion until Jeremy returned. Only Jeremy was not going to return. Not ever!
Chapter 13
Karen felt glad to be back with her mushrooms. Even one day away left her uneasy. There was something about being in
charge of this small, fragile world with its helpless, organic dependents that filled her with a sense of purpose, and more than ever she needed that now.
The work week ran from Monday to Sunday without any days off. Although complaints were voiced in private, no one lawfully challenged the rule. Over time, Karen, too, acquiesced, having come to understand that tasks needed to be done daily to insure survival, and at her request the responsibility of the garden fell on her shoulders. Additional help was provided with members rotating weekly, a problem in itself since each person’s personality required compromise and adjustment.
This matter came to a head with David’s arrival. Since his Thanksgiving-Day blowup, his behavior had grown worse, odd even, and Karen felt afraid to be alone in his presence. Like a matted hairball, her stomach seized and congealed as he entered her garden grotto. Thankfully, her fears proved groundless; in fact, having him with her was like having no one at all. Neither disturbed the other, and they went about their business with solemn tranquility, which soon settled at a comfortable plateau.
Like cloistered monks, it became a game for them to communicate with meaningful looks and hand gestures, and by mid-week David’s foul mood seemed to lift. He handled his chores humming Broadway tunes, occasionally dancing in circles, arms out, holding an imaginary partner. Karen smiled, applauded, knowing she had played a role in his recovery.
By Sunday, the last day of his rotation, Karen had come to comprehend his touchy predicament. He couldn’t help who he was, any more than a thirsty person could help craving water. Sensing she sympathized, he took her hand, kissed it, causing her to almost forget her “vow” of silence. Fortunately, she remembered before speaking his name and joined him, instead, in humming and dancing to “Waltzing Matilda,” the mushrooms their only audience.
It was only later that evening that Karen grasped the subtle changes in her behavior, and as the magnitude of that realization drained the blood from her face, it reminded her to refocus on her priorities.
