“Well,” Rose said aloud to her daughter’s chiding in her head, “I can relax when I’m dead.” She swept her eyes over the kitchen and living room, satisfied that everything was in place before she set off to the bakery. The genuine warmth and lightness in her body surprised her as she poured the last of the steaming coffee into a to-go mug. Isn’t it interesting, she thought, how many different people you can be in one lifetime.
ONE DAY
BEFORE THE CABIN
THE MAN
The man opened his eyes and peered up at the ceiling. He stretched out his legs. In the twin bed they reached past the bottom of the bed frame. His ankles scraped against the footboard. It felt strange but good to be back in his childhood home. Normally at this time of day on a Friday afternoon his mother would be puttering around downstairs, starting to take out ingredients for dinner that night, and, when he was younger, hollering for him and his brother to get outside into the fresh air.
He pulled the thick flannel sheets up around his chin, transferring the warmth from his lower half to his chest. The sheets were red and green striped. He knew without looking at the tags that they were discount imitation L.L.Bean sheets purchased at Sears by his mother. He remembered her face that day on the way home from the store. The way she’d smiled too much at nothing and spoken too loudly to him in the passenger seat. And then the way afterward she had peeked glances at him, narrowing her eyes, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. They had gone out on a mother-son shopping trip, which was rare—usually his mom took him and his brother; it was more efficient, she said, to shop for both of them at once. This time, though, it was just the two of them.
“In the car. Right now. Nope, just you.” She’d nodded at him as he and his little brother both stood up from the couch, where they were watching cartoons on their TV with its bunny ears antenna. “I got a letter from the school that your first school dance is in a week, right before Christmas break. You didn’t tell me,” she said, looking up from rummaging in her purse. “You need slacks and a button-down. Where are my god darn keys.” She paused again, straightening her body. “Shoes. Coat. Car. Now.”
* * *
—
Hot air blew into their faces as they shuffled through the front doors of the department store. Twinkling white lights and colorful glass balls hung from the ceiling and lined the walls. The boy thumped his boots against the black welcome mats, and chunks of ice melted quickly into the fabric. His mother took his hand but he shook it away, shooting her a look. “Mom.”
“Fine. But stay close.”
They weaved their way around groups of shoppers, his mother’s blunt heels clicking against the shiny linoleum floor. The boy kept his eyes on her heels, watching the nude pantyhose crinkle and stretch with each step.
“Here we are.” She stopped in front of the boys’ dress apparel, her eyes already wandering to the adjacent section. “Pick out a few pairs of slacks to try on. I’m going to pop over to the bedding area. It’s right there.” She pointed to the sheets and down comforters folded neatly into rectangles a few yards away. “Are you listening?” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll be just over there. I want to get winter sheets for you and your brother. Back in a flash.” She was already walking away, moving determinedly.
The boy was only going to look at tan pants and dress shirts; he was only going to wander through the racks, grabbing random items, knowing when it came down to it, his mother would do the picking anyway. But then he saw her. She was around his age, sixth grade he would guess, but she didn’t go to his school; he would have noticed her before. Her shiny brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she was wearing a pink raincoat and pink rain boots. He wondered if she was from out of town, somewhere where they didn’t have thick, sturdy snow boots that were hauled out of the basement in late November. Before he realized it, he was following her, slipping out from amongst the dress pants and into the center aisle. He glanced quickly toward the bedding area and saw his mother in profile, bringing a sheet set up to her nose. The girl walked slowly, pausing at a perfume counter to smell a strip of scented paper, running her hands over a pair of dangly earrings, stopping to look in a full-length mirror. The boy wondered where her parents were. He trailed her closely, so close that he could have reached out and pulled her ponytail, jerking her toward him, catching her completely unaware. He saw where she was going before she got there and his pulse sped up. He stepped carefully onto the escalator step as it changed from a flat surface to a mound and then took two more steps up so that he stood on the step behind her.
“Do you want to go around me?” The girl spun, her face screwed up with irritation.
“No.” His heart beat hard and fast.
“You’re crowding me.” She sighed loudly and turned away from him, standing her ground, crossing her arms over her raincoat.
“Sorry.” They were almost to the top now. The girl gripped the rubber railing in anticipation and took one step forward. The boy took a step at the same time, pushing into her back, sending her down on to the metal grate where the steps sucked into the machine. He watched as she twisted her body, landing hard on her wrists and knees. The machine moved her body forward and she flailed, trying to right herself as the ground moved beneath her. The boy stepped carefully around her.
“Help!” The girl’s voice was shrill and tears slid down her face. The boy watched as the bottom of her rain jacket caught in the metal grate.
Two adults appeared out of nowhere, one frantic, one calm. The calm one quickly jerked each of the girl’s arms out of the jacket as the frantic one pulled the girl up.
“She’s ok,” the calm adult said. “She’s ok.”
The frantic one, the girl’s mom, the boy decided, from the way she was holding the girl close and rubbing her wrists, said, “What happened, Susan?” over and over.
“He pushed me,” Susan said, pointing to the boy. Her face looked like a quilt, patched with bright pink and stark white streaks. She began to sob in earnest. The boy watched her throat convulse.
“No. It was an accident,” he said, and then noticed his own mother, running up the escalator, taking two steps at a time, looking uncharacteristically out of sorts. “It was an accident,” he said again, to his mother this time. “I bumped into her and she fell.”
“I’m sure it was an accident,” Susan’s mother said. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to push you. Of course he didn’t mean to push you.” Her voice shook.
The boy watched Susan for as long as he could as his mother pulled him away.
* * *
—
Now, lying in his childhood bed, in his childhood house, he enjoyed the silence for a moment. He pulled on khaki pants from his duffel bag and the gray sweater he had been wearing since he got out. He crept down the stairs, realizing only when he came to the spot that always let out a loud creak that he didn’t need to be quiet. His eyes slid over the family portraits lining the walls. A series of pictures from the same September afternoon when he was ten and his brother was eight. His mother and father hovered over him and his younger brother, bright fall colors burst from the frames. “Beautiful family,” he murmured as he descended. Even he knew it was an odd thing to say, given the circumstances, and that thought kept a smirk on his face as he took the last stairs down to the first floor. On his way to the kitchen, he paused at the family computer, shook the mouse, and watched as the screen came alive. It took him a few moments to remember his way around the desktop, but he eventually found the Internet icon and clicked. He typed in the letters with his pointer finger, scanned the results. The fifth link he clicked on took him to a page filled with a grid of pictures. He remembered this social site, but barely—it’d just come out when he was fifteen. The man stopped breathing for a moment and then carefully brought up the first picture, the most recent, according to its time stamp, and looked at the location tag. The caption read: ON OUR WAY! #FIREPLACE #WEEKEND #FROSTYRIDGECABINS. It was hard to believe that this wasn’t a trap. How could it be so easy? Did people really show their lives like this on a minute-by-minute basis? But the longer he stared at the picture, the more he realized his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him; it was easy because it was meant to be.