thought. Like
Dad. They’re all dead and they’re all
laying there and that’s where they’ll rot. Everything will rot.
“What do we do
now?” she asked, temporarily banishing such thoughts. Another sign that something was wrong with
her; she should have been a wreck.
“I don’t know.”
“We can’t do ‘I
don’t know,’ Mom. We have to have a plan , because if we don’t have a plan , we don’t…”
Mom interrupted
her. “It’s the best I can do right now,”
she said. “And I think what we really
need at the moment is…to think. Think
about this. Process it. We need to do that before we make any
decisions. So we don’t make a bad one.”
She paused again.
“And I think right
now I’m going to go to the store. We’re
out of fuel for the camp stove, and we could probably use some other
things. We’ll have breakfast when I come
back. And then we’ll…I don’t know. Talk. Figure this out.”
“I’m coming with
you.”
“No,” Mom said
forcefully. “I want you to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I need
some time alone, okay? I’m having
trouble with this.”
So am I, Amber thought. But instead of saying it, she just shrugged
and nodded. “Whatever.”
“I want you to
stay inside. Don’t even come out on the
porch. Not until I come back.”
She began walking
around to the front of the house and the porch stairs. Amber followed her. “And what if you don’t come back? What if something gets you because you
decided to go out all by yourself?”
“Then don’t come
looking for me.”
8.
In one of
Heather’s happiest memories, she sat with Mike on Virginia Beach one summer
evening after work. This had been before
Amber, before marriage, when they were both still in the Navy. They had little money but no responsibility,
so when the week ended time belonged to them. They sat on the shore with their bottoms in the sand and their legs
crossed beneath them. What sun remained
shimmered in the dark band where the ocean soaked the sand and reached for the
shells, driftwood and seaweed it had deposited ashore at a higher tide. Neither spoke.
She remembered
listening to the shells chattering beneath the rush of waves. She watched the ocean roll forever in either
direction—cleaning the beach, smoothing it, renewing it. The waning sunlight almost twinkled on the
fine edges of his chin, his cheekbones. His features were gentle but strong, like him. He had spent the last two years of his
minority on a farm in Morgan
County, and despite his
time on submarines his body still glowed from healthful work. He could do things; he knew things, like how
to calm a horse and deliver a calf. She
felt comfort in his commanding, capable presence. Every memory of loneliness and unimportance
weakened in the salt air before it disappeared into the water. She remembered thinking it remarkable how she
could feel so dark, so permanently alone, and then with the appearance of one
person suddenly not feel that way anymore. How his presence could wash away the ruins of her past.
Now, years later,
she felt the weight of his loss curving her spine as she made her way to the
Durango, keys jangling in her hands. The
self-inflicted cut on her arm ached like the memory of her last interaction with
Mike. Conscious thought nearly
impossible.
But present
circumstances afforded her little room for grieving. Amber was right; they needed a plan. I don’t
know, we’ll talk about that later would work for a while, but time had
become a precious currency in a world where reality bent at night. They had to figure out what to do here. They couldn’t be sitting clueless again when…
When he comes back.
Right.
The “check engine”
light on her dashboard lit up again when she started the Durango. She considered abandoning the truck in favor
of a newer vehicle plucked
Dad. They’re all dead and they’re all
laying there and that’s where they’ll rot. Everything will rot.
“What do we do
now?” she asked, temporarily banishing such thoughts. Another sign that something was wrong with
her; she should have been a wreck.
“I don’t know.”
“We can’t do ‘I
don’t know,’ Mom. We have to have a plan , because if we don’t have a plan , we don’t…”
Mom interrupted
her. “It’s the best I can do right now,”
she said. “And I think what we really
need at the moment is…to think. Think
about this. Process it. We need to do that before we make any
decisions. So we don’t make a bad one.”
She paused again.
“And I think right
now I’m going to go to the store. We’re
out of fuel for the camp stove, and we could probably use some other
things. We’ll have breakfast when I come
back. And then we’ll…I don’t know. Talk. Figure this out.”
“I’m coming with
you.”
“No,” Mom said
forcefully. “I want you to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I need
some time alone, okay? I’m having
trouble with this.”
So am I, Amber thought. But instead of saying it, she just shrugged
and nodded. “Whatever.”
“I want you to
stay inside. Don’t even come out on the
porch. Not until I come back.”
She began walking
around to the front of the house and the porch stairs. Amber followed her. “And what if you don’t come back? What if something gets you because you
decided to go out all by yourself?”
“Then don’t come
looking for me.”
8.
In one of
Heather’s happiest memories, she sat with Mike on Virginia Beach one summer
evening after work. This had been before
Amber, before marriage, when they were both still in the Navy. They had little money but no responsibility,
so when the week ended time belonged to them. They sat on the shore with their bottoms in the sand and their legs
crossed beneath them. What sun remained
shimmered in the dark band where the ocean soaked the sand and reached for the
shells, driftwood and seaweed it had deposited ashore at a higher tide. Neither spoke.
She remembered
listening to the shells chattering beneath the rush of waves. She watched the ocean roll forever in either
direction—cleaning the beach, smoothing it, renewing it. The waning sunlight almost twinkled on the
fine edges of his chin, his cheekbones. His features were gentle but strong, like him. He had spent the last two years of his
minority on a farm in Morgan
County, and despite his
time on submarines his body still glowed from healthful work. He could do things; he knew things, like how
to calm a horse and deliver a calf. She
felt comfort in his commanding, capable presence. Every memory of loneliness and unimportance
weakened in the salt air before it disappeared into the water. She remembered thinking it remarkable how she
could feel so dark, so permanently alone, and then with the appearance of one
person suddenly not feel that way anymore. How his presence could wash away the ruins of her past.
Now, years later,
she felt the weight of his loss curving her spine as she made her way to the
Durango, keys jangling in her hands. The
self-inflicted cut on her arm ached like the memory of her last interaction with
Mike. Conscious thought nearly
impossible.
But present
circumstances afforded her little room for grieving. Amber was right; they needed a plan. I don’t
know, we’ll talk about that later would work for a while, but time had
become a precious currency in a world where reality bent at night. They had to figure out what to do here. They couldn’t be sitting clueless again when…
When he comes back.
Right.
The “check engine”
light on her dashboard lit up again when she started the Durango. She considered abandoning the truck in favor
of a newer vehicle plucked
Similar Books
