by M Sawyer
“Shit, Nolin, what happened?”
Rebecca opened the door to the embalming room and disappeared inside. Nolin heard her rifling through the cupboards and turning on the sink. She returned with a stack of white cloths and gauze.
Rebecca sat down next to Nolin and took her hands to wipe them with the wet cloth and wrap them in strips of gauze. They looked like a fighter’s hands, wrapped and ready for a street fight. Nolin breathed deeply, tearing her eyes away from the cooler.
“I’ll clean that up,” she said, nodding toward the bloody streaks. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder at the cooler and then turned back to Nolin.
“I got worried when I didn’t see you on the roof. I thought maybe you really had jumped.”
Nolin chuckled and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her bandaged hands. Rebecca pulled a bottle of Coke out of her bag, twisted it open with a soft shht, and took a long swig as if it were something much more powerful than soda. Next to her duffel bag was a paper sack smelling of something warm and greasy. She picked it up and dumped it on Nolin’s lap.
“Here. Have a breakfast burrito. Your gut will be so traumatized, you won’t be able to think about suicide.” Rebecca reached into the bag and pulled out a tube-shaped thing in blotchy white paper. When Nolin didn’t respond, Rebecca picked up Nolin’s hand and shoved the burrito into it. She pulled another out for herself.
“So, is there anything you want to tell me?” Rebecca said as she took a bite.
Nolin squeezed the burrito slightly. She wasn’t hungry. The warmth felt good in her hands.
“I picked up my dad’s body last night.”
The burrito halted halfway to Rebecca’s mouth. Her pale eyebrows lifted, and she shook her head. “Shit. Lousy family reunion.” She shoved the burrito into her mouth and bit off half in one bite. Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling in pleasure. “How did he die?”
“He shot himself.”
Rebecca froze, a horrified expression on her face. “Oh, god. I’m sorry about that suicide comment. That really wasn’t funny.”
“It’s fine,” Nolin said. “I haven’t seen him in ten years. He means nothing to me.”
Rebecca smiled grimly. Nolin knew she didn’t believe her. “Well, on one hand, the jackass left you and your mom in the hospital. I can see how you wouldn’t be upset to shove him in the cooler.”
“And the other hand?”
“Life probably wasn’t easy for him either, then or now. He probably felt like he didn’t have a choice.”
“But he did have a choice,” Nolin said darkly. “He always had a choice.”
“He did, and it doesn’t make what he did okay. Leaving you or killing himself. But, I don’t think he did it to hurt anybody. He’s only human.”
Nolin said nothing.
Rebecca took a breath and went on. “What he did was selfish, but he didn’t do it to hurt you or your mother. He probably didn’t know what else to do.”
“I’m not going to forgive him.”
“You don’t have to. Maybe later we can get a big fat cake and have them write ‘Congratulations, another one bites the dust’ in purple buttercream.”
Nolin cracked a weak smile. Rebecca had a strange way of making Nolin feel better and worse at the same time. Nolin finally considered the warm burrito in her hand. She unwrapped it and took a bite; it tasted like deep-fried cat food in a tortilla.
Rebecca sipped her Coke and stared into space. The upstairs was silent; Eli hadn’t arrived yet. He got later and later as he got older. Sometimes, he didn’t show up at all.
“So,” Rebecca said, gulping the last bit of Coke. “Do you think your mom knows?”
Nolin had been wondering that all night. She thought of her mother every day. Sometimes she’d get out of bed at night and go for a walk around the cemetery to distract from her aching guilt. She loved her mother, no doubt about it, but the thought of her was terrifying; that cold, empty corpse taunting her, a soulless marionette acting the part of a mother.
“I don’t know.”
She hadn’t heard from her mother in five years. What if something happened and it was Nolin’s fault, for leaving her? As a child, Nolin sometimes felt she was the glue that held her family together. After her father left, she was the glue that held her mother in reality. Anything could have happened after that security was gone.
She was no better than him. She’d abandoned Melissa too.
Heat welled up inside Nolin again, and her eyes grew wet. A choked sob escaped her.
Rebecca took her hand and squeezed gently. She wore contacts today instead of the horn-rimmed glasses. They could have been sisters, alike but different. Rebecca’s small, curvy body perched on the floor with her legs curled to the side. Curly hair floated around her beautifully sculpted faced like flames.
Nolin’s usually lively curls, on the other hand, hung in a tangled mass, like kelp washed up on a beach. Weak sunlight seeped through the dingy basement window. Nolin didn’t want to face the morning; she shut her eyes—a child hiding under the covers from a thunderstorm.
“You’re worried about your mom.” It wasn’t a question. Rebecca pushed a mass of curls off Nolin’s face, wiping the dampness of old tears across her cheek. “Look, you did what you had to. You had to take care of yourself. You’re human; you can only handle so much. No one should have to go through what you did.”
Nolin tried to hold back another sob. It escaped with a strange sound somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup.
Rebecca went on. “She had a job. She was better. She was taking care of herself. You wouldn’t have left if she were still sick.”
Nolin nodded. “She might be sick now though. Something might be wrong, it’s been so long.”
Rebecca nodded. Nolin dipped her head into her hands again. Rebecca stood to wad up their breakfast paper into a ball and toss it in the trash.
“Do whatever you need to do,” she said. Nolin nodded. “I’d ask if you felt like watching today, but I get the feeling you’d rather not.”
Nolin looked up at her, and then to the cooler. She shook her head.
Rebecca opened the door to the ancient embalming room and disappeared inside. Nolin listened to the clanking of Rebecca preparing her equipment. Heavy metal didn’t seem to be on the playlist today.
Nolin pulled her knees to her chest and pushed her chin in between them. A loud clunk echoed in the embalming room. Rebecca swore loudly. The door opened, and she stepped out, sucking her index finger. She pulled the finger out with a pop and examined it, her eyes crossing as she held it in front of her nose.
“Ugh, right to the quick.” She wiped her hand on her jeans, pulled a pair of surgical gloves from her pocket, and slipped them on, snapping them on her wrists like a television doctor.
“Well, I need to get in there. Unless you want to get run over by a cold gurney, I suggest you scoot.”
Nolin pushed herself off the floor and stepped toward the stairs. She heard the cooler open behind her and a shelf sliding out. A soft thud as Rebecca moved a body onto the rickety gurney. Nolin couldn’t help it; she looked over her shoulder.
Her father’s face poked out from under Rebecca’s arm as she shifted him over. The last ten years hadn’t been kind to him. His hairline was farther back than it was when Nolin last saw him. He was thinner, with only a few wisps of pale hair. The skin around his eyes wrinkled like a white tee shirt tossed on the floor. Luckily, Nolin couldn’t see the exit wound. She sighed with bitter relief.
She knew this was Rebecca’s way of giving her closure. Rebecca closed the embalming room door behind the gurney.
Nolin’s thoughts rolled around in her aching head as she climbed the stairs out of the cold basement. Was Melissa all right? When she’d last seen her mother, she’d been as pale as those people in the cooler.
She remembered what her father always used to say to her before he’d go to work on the weekend, when he made her repeat their address and phone number back to him while she
was a small child.
Keep an eye on your mother, Nolin. Check on your mother.
Hours ago, nothing in the world could convince her to go back. Now here she was, teetering on the edge of the precipice she’d spent years avoiding. Now she realized she’d been walking along the edge all along.
This whole disaster was a chain reaction set off by Nolin’s unwelcome arrival into this world. She was the first domino. If it hadn’t been for her, her mother wouldn’t be sick. Her father wouldn’t have left. He’d probably still be alive.
She had no choice. She had to go back.
She marched up to her room, stuffed her clothes into her old school backpack. She remembered the plane ticket she’d bought early that morning. Images of snowcapped mountains, leaping salmon, and aromatic pine trees flashed through her mind.
She wouldn’t leave for two weeks. She had time.
She left a note on Eli’s desk, explaining that she had to leave, thanking him for everything. She didn’t look back at the mortuary, didn’t glance sideways at the stone angels who stood silently, seeing her off. Her little car groaned up the long, winding drive with the window down and cold spring air blasting her face. Nolin let the chill sink into her skin to freeze out the slow-burning fear pooling in her heart.
Chapter 21
NOLIN FLIPPED THE car radio on. Then off. Then on again, twirling the dial through crackly radio stations—static voices of DJs, country fiddles, electric guitars, and car dealership ads. Finally, she cursed and slapped the dash. The radio sputtered off. She couldn’t stand the noise, but the silence ate at her.
The needle on the speedometer inched up to eighty miles per hour. Her tiny car rattled. She took her foot off the gas. For the fifth time, she rolled the window up. Five minutes later, it had slid back down again.
Just check on Melissa and get the hell out. Quick and painless.
Images of Melissa flashed between thoughts. Ragged, emaciated Melissa. Melissa scalded and bleeding, huddled in the corner of the shower. Melissa unconscious and bandaged in the hospital ward that reeked of chemicals and madness. Melissa, silent and stoic for years afterward, floating through the house like a ghost, fading more and more each day.
What am I doing?
The city had given way to suburbs, which trickled into vast fields laced with trees. Mountains loomed in the distance on either side of the road, forming a wide corridor that ran down the state. Spindly tree branches twisted into the sky, some already fluffy with opening leaf buds. Grass starting to turn green and a few wildflowers dusted the open land with color.
The sun arched across the valley. Her head ached with thoughts bouncing off the inside of her skull. She’d forgotten to bring anything to eat or drink. Her stomach rumbled, the perfect harmony to her dry mouth and scratchy throat.
A sign flew past: Calder — 8 miles.
The car slowed. Nolin pumped the accelerator. Her eyes fell on the gas gauge; the needle hovered squarely over the E. She threw the car into neutral to coax more distance from whatever drops remained in her fuel tank. Finally, the car rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the deserted road.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
How many gas stations had she passed? But no, she had been so busy working herself up to deal with Melissa that she never bothered to glance at the gas gauge. Fan-damn-tastic.
Time to start walking.
With a resigned sigh, Nolin reached into the back seat to retrieve her backpack and popped the car door open.
It was colder than it had been in the city. Sharp wind cut right through her denim jacket and tousled her hair like icy fingers on her scalp. She threaded her arms into the straps of the backpack and kicked the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it. The car wasn’t worth anything. Nothing inside it was worth stealing. Not even a CD.
Gravel crunched under her sneakers as she walked with her arms folded tightly over her chest and head bowed against the wind. The bitter air found its way into the sleeves of her jacket, under the hems of her tee shirt and pant legs, down the neck of her shirt, and somehow between her toes in her sneakers. After ten minutes of walking, a tiny, cold water droplet landed on her hand.
Well, shit.
She had no umbrella, or even a hood on her jacket. Another drop fell, then another. Dark spots speckled the asphalt.
Soon, a torrent of freezing rain pelted the road. Nolin huddled against the downpour, cursing the rain as her wet feet squished in her shoes. Her soaked jeans and denim jacket weighed down on her. She shivered and peered up into the distance. Nothing yet. No “Welcome to Calder” sign, no houses or gas stations, no sign of anything but grass and rain.
Lighting split the sky like a jagged smile. Nolin stomped through the puddles. The rain didn’t feel like it did when she was a child. It wasn’t magical anymore; now it was just cold and wet.
This wasn’t helping her feel better.
A clattering sound swelled behind her, coming closer. Nolin stepped off the shoulder and walked in the grass. A rusty pickup truck slowed beside her, rattling like a dumpster full of tin cans. She kept walking.
The truck inched forward to keep up with her. The young man in the driver’s seat leaned over and rolled down the window. His messy hair and mischievous blue eyes gave him an elfish look. He smiled, revealing a set of shiny white teeth with pointy little canines.
“Do you want a ride?” he called over the rain. He reached to straighten the window, which was rolling down crookedly.
“I’m okay, it’s not much farther,” Nolin lied. It was still a few miles to Calder. She’d rather trudge through the rain than trust some random guy on the road. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and watched the cracks again. Don’t step on a crack, or you’ll break your mother’s back.
“Wait,” the young man said. “I think I know you.” Nolin stole another glance at his face. Recognition flickered behind his eyes. She realized she knew him as well.
Her stomach fluttered. Images spun through her head. The school cafeteria, walking to the library, reaching up to touch the leaves on the willow tree. She knew him. But she didn’t want to be seen. She turned away and kept walking.
“Nolin!” Drew said. “Wow, what are you doing out here? Get in before you drown.”
Her teeth chattered. Drew leaned forward and popped open the passenger door. Nolin hesitated, her shivering arms wrapped tightly around herself. Finally, she stepped forward and climbed into the truck, swinging the door shut behind her. It banged like a lid slamming down on a trash can. The truck shook as Drew yanked the stick shift and they jumped forward.
“Was that your car back there? That little blue Corolla?” he asked.
Nolin nodded. “I ran out of gas.”
“Well, that’s easy to fix. I’ll run you to the Shell station.”
“Thank you.” Nolin curled her hands around the seatbelt that crossed her chest and peeked over at Drew. The corners of his mouth turned up on their own, his resting face still a slight smile that carved faint dimples in his cheeks. He was long and lanky in a gray tee shirt, worn blue jeans, and a tattered blue baseball cap. He seemed to be thinking carefully.
“So...” he started. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”
“It has.” Her throat suddenly felt dry.
“You never were much of a talker, were you?”
Nolin swallowed hard, trying to untangle her throat.
“I’m surprised you recognized me,” Nolin said.
Drew chuckled. “It wasn’t hard. I’d know you anywhere. I’ve only known one girl with hair like that.”
Nolin’s hand jumped out to touch her wild curls. “It’s not a bad thing,” Drew said quickly. “It’s just, you know…distinct. I always liked your hair.”
Nolin was confused. Was she supposed to thank him? She’d never been in this situation, alone with a guy who reminded her of a friendly Labrador puppy. She had no idea what to do.
“I don’t mean to be awkward,” Drew said again, guiding the truck throu
gh the torrential downpour, “but it’s really good to see you. I haven’t heard from you since, well, since that last day when you ran off. I always wondered what happened to you.”
“What happened to me,” Nolin repeated. She wasn’t sure if he meant where she’d been, or why she’d snapped that day on the playground, broken a child’s nose, and fled into the woods.
“You just disappeared. I heard a few different things. I didn’t just want to believe anything people said.”
Nolin said nothing. She folded her arms tightly. Drew spun a dial on the dash to turn up the heat.
Why should she care what people said? People had always whispered about her and her family. Besides, she’d never see him again after he dropped her off at the car. He’d just fade into the fog of her memory along with the rest of her childhood.
Her silence didn’t seem to bother him. Rain pelted the roof and ran down the windows in streams. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove slowly through the storm, bobbing his head to some song only he could hear. Nolin was starting to regret getting in the car, or coming back to Calder at all. She opened her mouth to ask him to just let her out, then her stomach growled like a grizzly bear, loud enough to hear over the roar of the engine.
“I think I’d better buy you a burger,” he chuckled. He looked over at her. This time she met his gaze. He was different. Not the shy, skinny kid she remembered from school, but he still gave the impression that he’d be up for a game of freeze tag at any moment. A playful child. He smiled at her, and something fluttered in her stomach.
Nothing to worry about, just hunger.
He jerked the truck into the parking lot of a small burger restaurant. Nolin had been there once with her father when she was seven or eight. She shook her head, like an Etch A Sketch erasing an image.
