G-157

by K. M. Malloy

  “Enough.” The sound of tearing paper ripped through the kitchen. “I want you to be happy, but you won’t be happy in the outside world. It’s a terrible place and we’ve no reason to leave.”

  “But-“

  “Enough!” he shouted, the front page ripping in two. “No more talk of this matter. It’s ruining my coffee.”

  Her fists clenched tighter, her shoulders shaking as she fought to contain her anger. She could feel Mitch staring at her, his eyes boring into her, fueling her irritation. “What are you looking at?”

  The boy’s soft eyes stared up at her from the rim of his empty bowl. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

  She cringed and gritted her teeth. “I’m not leaving you, I’m doing what I need to do with my life.”

  “Aire, why don’t you go up to your mother’s room to see if she’s still tired?” her father said, waving his hand in the air as though shooing away a fly.

  “I will,” she snapped, and grabbed a bagel from the covered tray on the counter before leaving the kitchen.

  The second level of their house was the same as all the others in John’s Town. Two rooms were on each side of the hallway with a bathroom separating those on the right if one were coming up the stairs. She and Mitch took the two to the left. Her mother’s room was the first door on the right, her father’s the third. She knocked on her mother’s door when she reached the top of the steps, smoothing down one of the stick-on daisies that surrounded a wooden plate with her mother’s name on it. Another requirement of John’s Town: all bedroom doors must have the occupant’s full name clearly posted on the outside of it. So they know who to snatch in the night, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth as she waited for her mother to answer. Silence persisted when she knocked again. She frowned, and opened the door.

  Her mother lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Her face peeping out from under the comforter was so still and pale that for a moment Aire thought she had died in her sleep. She walked quietly towards her, and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling relieved when she saw the slight rising and falling of the comforter.

  “Mom? Are you feeling alright?”

  Her dry voice crackled and held an uneven pitch, as though she hadn’t had a drink of water in several days. “So tired. So very tired.”

  “Do you want me to bring you anything?”

  Silence.

  Aire placed a hand on her stomach and leaned in closer to her mother’s gaunt face and parched lips. “What’s wrong with you?”

  She stopped breathing, her body freezing into a silent statue. Aire’s own breathing caught in her lungs as she waited for signs of the twitch. Her mother blinked her eyes, and the comforter resumed its steady rhythm of rising and falling. The woman offered up a weak smile. “Good morning, honey,” she said, and reached out to squeeze her hand.

  “Mom, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Oh nothing,” her mother shrugged as she struggled to sit up. “I’m just sleepy today. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

  Aire scanned the bags under her glassy eyes and the paleness in her cheeks.

  “Okay,” she said, brushing hair back from her mother’s face. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

  “No, honey, I’m alright. I’ll be getting up in a few minutes. I’m sorry I missed breakfast this morning. You know how much I look forward to pancake day.”

  “It’s okay. Here, I brought you a bagel. It’s not as good as pancakes, but it will do the trick. I’ll be around for a little while this morning so if you need anything else just let me know, okay?”

  “I will. Thank you, honey,” she said, and wrapped Aire in a tight hug. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She let go of her mother and left the room, closing the door behind her.

  She sat on the bench seat in front of the bay window in her room, watching the sparrows and blue jays sing and hop around the branches of the oak tree. She opened the window to feel the fresh breeze floating in, bringing with it the first smell of flowers beginning to bloom from the beds below as the sun warmed the earth in earnest, a promise that all traces of winter would soon be forgot for another year. It was too beautiful a day to spend cooped up inside, and she decided to take Ms. Stillwell’s advice to go out and have fun. A day of fishing with Troy seemed the best way to enjoy a lazy early spring Sunday and ward off her troubles until tomorrow.

  An hour later, her guitar strapped over her shoulder and fishing gear in hand, Aire peeked in her mother’s room before leaving. She frowned when she saw her unmoved in the same spot on her bed. Again her mother assured her she was fine and didn’t need anything, but Aire still brought her a glass of water-which her mother gulped down as though she’d been in the desert for two days without a drink-and set out for the lake.

  She squinted her eyes in the brightness of the late morning rays from the sun, her pupils adjusting to the intensity of the light after the two block trek to Troy’s house. No one answered when she rang the bell even though the family’s dirt bikes were lined up in the open garage. The screaming of an electric saw blade pierced her ears from the backyard, and she let herself in through the back gate to see what the Culvers were building.

  Hawk, Troy’s aging German shepherd, came bounding up to greet her just as she closed the wooden gate behind her. She smiled as the dog licked her hand while she petted him, his tail waggling so hard it made his rear sway from side to side. Satisfied with the attention she’d given him, the dog trotted back into the yard. She followed him through the side yard and rounded the corner of the house where she found the source of the whining saw.

  Troy, his father, and little brother were toiling away building a tree house in the giant maple tree in the center of the spacious yard as his mother worked in the garden at the far corner of the lot. Smiling at the scene, she waited until one of them noticed her so as not to interrupt the picturesque moment. Mr. Culver turned to reach for another nail, catching Aire in his view.

  “Why, Aire, what a pleasant surprise,” he called from the ladder he was perched on halfway up the tree. Shane turned to look down at her, and Troy smiled from behind the saw bench.

  “Hello, Mr. Culver. Shane,” she said, and gave a nod at Troy’s little brother. “Hi, Troy.”

  “Hi, Aire,” he called back.

  Mrs. Culver arose from her vegetable garden and dusted her hands off as she made her way across the greening lawn. “Good morning, Aire,” she said. “Going fishing today?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s too gorgeous outside to not spend the day at the pond.”

  “Well that sounds lovely,” she said. “Doesn’t that sound lovely, Roy?”

  “It certainly does,” Mr. Culver answered. “What do you think, Troy?”

  “That does sound like a good idea.”

  “Why don’t you go and join Aire? She’ll be able to get there faster if you take her on your bike. I’ll pack you kids a lunch. Both of you could use some fattening up. I’m sure Roy and Shane can manage the rest of the tree house by themselves,” Mrs. Culver said.

  “I want to go fishing,” Shane whined.

  “You want a tree house, now shush,” Mrs. Culver said. “I’m sure your brother would love to take you next weekend though. Troy, you go get cleaned up.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said, and unplugged the extension cord to the round saw.

  Forty-five minutes later, Aire and Troy sat side by side on an old flannel blanket in front of the pond, their lines lounging in the water, her guitar propped against a boulder. They’d managed to find a sequestered cove that offered privacy from the other townsfolk who also thought the day perfect for fishing. She smiled as two pointers raced across the water pursuing a mallard, wishing the water were warm enough so she could join them.

  “So how did your test go?”

  “It was hard.” Aire gave her line a lazy tug. “Well, actually just some parts of it were hard. The science and English stuff was a breeze. Overall I’d sa
y I did pretty well.”

  “Well enough to get into school?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Hmm,” Troy said, and jerked his own line. “When do you find out how you did?”

  “Two weeks. It seems like such a long time, but I’m thinking it’ll go by fast. I have a few things to keep me occupied while waiting.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Well,” she said, pausing as she pursed her lips. “Like finding out more about the weird things happening around here.”

  “Like Gary?”

  “It’s not even just Gary anymore. It’s Doug and Bowie and Rhonda and Kelly and Scott and countless others.”

  “Gary has been worrying me,” Troy nodded. “It’s like he’s doing this whole Jekyll and Hyde thing. One minute he’s fine and the next he’s this crazy person.”

  “And there’s my mom, too.”

  Troy lowered his pole as he turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

  “It just started today. This morning I found her lying in bed with the saddest look on her face. She was still in bed when I left after ten. My mother has never slept past seven in her whole life.”

  “That is weird, especially because my mom has been doing the same thing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, it started early last week. She’ll stay in bed all day if she can. The only reason she was outside today was because my dad made her get up. It’s the strangest thing. What do you think is causing it?”

  Aire cocked her head to the side, giving the lure a slow turn to pull the line in. She’d pulled the writhing worm still on the hook to the shore and cast the helpless creature into the water again before answering.

  “I think it’s coming from Gary. He was the first to start acting weird after the crash. But I think it might be coming from you too.”

  “Me? Why would you think it’s coming from me? I’m not doing anything weird.”

  “No, not yet, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.” She reached into her pocket and pinched her fingers around the rice grain she’d carried in her pocket every day since The Moto. She pulled it out and held it in front of Troy’s face. “I found this in your helmet after the crash. It was ripped out of the back of your head when Gary landed on you during your heat race.”

  Troy’s mouth dropped. He reached out to take it from her, his hand trembling. “Oh, man. That came from my head?”

  Aire nodded.

  “What is it?”

  “I have no idea. It does weird things sometimes.”

  “Like what?”

  “See that wire in the middle? Sometimes it starts flickering.”

  “How weird,” Troy said, holding it closer to his face. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Me either. It terrifies me, and I don’t know why but I think this thing has something to do with how strange everyone has been acting. I’ve been so scared lately, and I don’t know what to do to fix it.”

  Her shoulders began to shake as the stress of her secret was finally lifted. Troy wrapped his arms around her and held her close, kissing her forehead as he whispered reassurances into her hair.

  “It’s okay, Aire. There’s nothing wrong with me and as long as I’m around nothing is going to happen to you, okay? We’ll figure this thing out together. I promise.”

  She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Thank goodness for you.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss her. His lips were warm with a tangy sourness still lingering from the lemonade he’d been sipping. Her tongue flicked lightly into his mouth, warmth spreading across her skin as he returned the motion. She reached up to stroke his hair, feeling the last remnants of his injury from two weeks ago as the gash on his neck faded into a scar. His arms pulled her in closer, sending her heart racing as his hand reached up to cup her breast. He eased her to the ground, his strong body covering hers. She could feel a hardness beginning to press on her lower stomach, her legs becoming a glowing inferno as his hand worked his way up her shirt to fondle her naked skin. Pure ecstasy drowned her senses, and she yearned for his hands to touch every inch of her.

  A loud clicking noise distracted her from the moment. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on reveling in his touch, until something brushed down her calf. Through a half opened eye she saw the fishing rod jarring across the rocky shore towards the water.

  “Troy, you caught a fish,” she said between kisses.

  “If you want to call it that.”

  “No,” she said, shoving his face back. “You caught a fish. It’s going to take your pole.”

  He looked behind him to see the sun glinting off his new fishing rod, picking up speed as it jumped and jounced across the rocks towards the water’s edge.

  “No,” he cried as he sprinted across the rocks to capture it. The handle had just disappeared below the surface when he snatched it from the water and reeled in a decent sized trout.

  “You’re a terrible fishing partner,” he laughed as he walked towards their blanket. “You’re much too distracting for the seriousness of the business.”

  Aire laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “You started it.”

  The afternoon became one of the best of Aire’s memories. Never would she forget the warmth of the sun on her skin or the coolness of the sand soft on her toes as they talked until the sun sank into the horizon. The perfection and carelessness of the day would remain forever a bittersweet memory in her mind.

  ***

  Troy dropped her off just before dinner. She heard her father tinkering with something in the garage while Mitch sat on the couch doing school work. No aroma of a cooking meal filled the house, and her mother was not in the kitchen at six o’clock as she had been every day of her life.

  She went upstairs to find her mother’s closed door. Not bothering to knock, she opened the door to find the woman still in bed, now turned on her side to face the door. She’d changed her pajamas and a glass of water sat half full on the night stand, but her hair was greasy and a thin layer of oil covered her face.

  “How was fishing?” she asked, her voice flat and dull.

  “Fine. Have you been in here all day?”

  “No. I was up cleaning for a while. I’m just tired today, but don’t worry. I’ll be back on my feet tomorrow. I just needed some rest.”

  “Okay,” Aire said as she sat down on the bed and began to scratch the dirt from under her fingernails.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Mom, where do babies come from?”

  “People.”

  “I know, but how?”

  “When a husband and wife want a baby, the wife goes down to Dr. Caughlin’s to get an exam to see if she’s healthy. If the tests come back okay, then Dr. Caughlin signs their request to get a permit to have a baby. If the permit is approved, then the ambulance takes the wife to the hospital in Parker and they give her a shot in the stomach and she comes home pregnant.”

  “How do you get pregnant from that?”

  Aire’s mother frowned, the fine wrinkles in her forehead deepening into crevices. “I don’t know, that’s just how it happens.”

  “So, people don’t mate like animals?”

  “Goodness no,” she shouted, a look of disgust sending more wrinkles spider webbing across her face. “People most certainly do not do that. We don’t make babies that way. It’s a nasty, terrible thing people just don’t do.”

  “So you’ve never done it?”

  “No! People are above that.”

  “Okay,” Aire said. Her mother grabbed her arm as she stood up to leave.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I was reading a book about apes. They’re the closest relative to us so I was just wondering if we did it the same.”

  “No. We’re incapable of it. No one does it.”

  “Do you remember anything about going to the hospital to have me and Mitch?”

  The woman stared at her for a moment, her lip crin
kling before her face went lax. “No. I don’t remember. I remember going to the doctor to get the shot…the shot at the doctor…” Her mother’s head lolled to the side, her eyes glazing over. Aire knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed to look at the woman’s blank stare at eye level.

  “Mom,” she whispered. “What about the doctor?”

  “The room…with the yellow man….shot…” She jerked her head back towards the ceiling, her face looking lost and frightened as she glanced around the room before she looked back to Aire and smiled.

  “Hi dear, how was fishing today?”

  “Good.” Aire’s eyes were wide as she struggled to control her breathing. What happened? What just happened, her mind raced as her pulse throbbed in her temples.

  “That’s good. I promise I’ll make pancakes next weekend, just so tired.”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” she said, taking in a dry gulp of air, her tongue feeling numb under her palate. “Get some rest.”

  She shut the door behind her, returning to her room to sit at the window. Her mother had it. She had whatever was plaguing John’s Town. A thickness cloaked the air, churning her stomach and quickening her breath. My mother has it. Her head fell into her hands and she let herself cry out her sorrows, let herself cry out her frustrations and the powerless feeling threatening to strangle her. She began to feel a bit better after her tears were purged, and she watched the waning moon rise higher and higher across the sky. The stars in the Orion constellation glimmered back at her, guiding her, just as they had since she was little. They made her think of Troy. A tiny smile crossed her lips as she thought of their afternoon together, of all the wonderful new sensations they were discovering in each other. Thoughts of him comforted her, and soon she felt her eyes growing heavy with the promise of sleep.

  She lay in the darkness thinking of Troy and pondering her origins, not understanding John’s Town methods of conception. The afternoon with Troy felt amazing, so why was there such an aversion to an act that seemed like it would feel wonderful? Maybe others in town didn’t commit the act, but one day soon, she and Troy would. Thoughts of her mother bombarded her fantasies, and she turned on her side to look out the window, alone with her tumultuous thoughts in the darkness.