Mayday (8 page)

Click.

I slowly hung up. I'd never said it so clearly, and the playback made me wince. It would be two more months until Mom next spoke to me.

• • •

I shook my head back into the present, or the past. Whatever.

Adele jumped up. “Oh, I really like her. Can she sleep in here?”

Here, Mom's face lost its mirth. It seemed clear that a piece of her knew this room wasn't safe for a girl.

Adele shrugged. “Or you can put her in the guest room—”

“No!” Mom said, anxiety getting the best of her face. “Best not sleep there alone. I mean, what's the fun in that? Crow's in here. This is where you can spend the night. Shane, I do need to know where you belong. I'm not like Dove. Do I need to call Alabama?” Her face softened, coming as near to concern as I'd ever seen it venture. “Isn't someone, somewhere, going to miss you tonight?”

I shook my head. “I'm unclaimed.”

Mom tightened her lips, and Adele ran over and hugged me. “I claim you!” Firm and trusting and Adele: I felt it, I felt her. How long I'd waited for her embrace. It was all worth it.

She ran into the hall and quickly returned with Crow.

“What did you say to Mom?” Crow asked.

“I told her your dad was a polygamist.”

Crow cocked her head. “You know just what to say. To everyone.”

The cuckoo clock struck nine. Both Crow and I looked at Adele, spoke in unison, “Get in bed, Addy. You're safe tonight.”

Crow shot me a horrified look.

I winced. “That was weird, wasn't it?”

“Sure. Weird.” Crow shoved her bed in front of the door and grabbed a compilation of Greek myths. She hopped onto the comforter and started to read. I grabbed the
Iliad
and joined her, leaning against her footboard. A few minutes into Homer, I set down the book.

“I'll take a shift, Crow. Get some rest. You look, well, awful.”

Crow gazed longingly at her pillow, then flew to the bottom of the bed and grabbed my collar. “Do you know what I'll do to you if you let me down, if you fall asleep?”

I gently grabbed her wrist, and she let go. “You're safe tonight, Crow.” I glanced at Adele, so at peace, already drifted into a safer place. “Give it to me.”

Crow bit her lip, leaned back, reached beneath the mattress, and removed the butcher knife. She lay it carefully between my outstretched legs and snuggled down. A minute later, Crow slept. It was fitful and shallow, but it was sleep. Maybe enough to turn her eyes from red to pink.

The urge came to turn out the light. At least the ceiling light. The lamps would be enough to keep me awake. But I watched Crow toss, desperate to rejoin Adele, and realized her belief in me was complete. No, every light would stay on. I would take no chances.

I stared up and counted lumps on the textured ceiling. My mind relaxed. Jude would risk nothing tonight, not with a guest over.

I reached 8,276, and wind rattled the window. The night was calm and the orphan breeze departed, but its sound, like gentle breathing, remained. I eased myself up and pressed my ear to the door. A shuffle, and then all was still—Jude motionless, but not breathless. I swung my feet off the bed, and Crow's eyes shot open. Her eyebrows raised, and I pointed at the knob. I reached for a pad of paper and a pen, scribbled a note, and handed it to Crow. She mouthed the words—
We won't let you touch her, Monster
—looked at me, and grinned. Carefully, she slid under her bed and slipped the note beneath the door. It quickly vanished.

Footsteps thudded away down the hall.

Crow crawled back onto the bed. I looked at her, and she stared at Adele.

“Shane, what do you think of when you look at me? I mean, nobody else lives like this. Am I crazy?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. When next I opened them, Crow fiddled with a locket suspended from a chain around her neck. A locket I knew well.

“My dad was a writer.” She pointed over her shoulder at her “shelf of great minds,” which was bulging with philosophy books. “He bought me all those; I guess he thought I'd read them someday.”

“Was he right?”

Crow gazed at her hands. “There's one I read a lot. My dad wrote it. I write, too, did I tell you that? It's all I've ever wanted to do. Write, like Dad.”

I felt a tear forming and squinted it back. “So why don't you?”

Crow looked over at Adele, then down to her locket. “I'm so tired. The ideas come, they go, and I can hardly hold them in my head. But the real reason?” She sighed. “Dad came into the room. I pretended to be asleep. He kissed Addy. He kissed me. ‘My Coraline, look after Addy when I'm gone.' That's what he said.” Crow paused. “So at five, my life was already planned. Dad gave me a job, and it wasn't to write, and I vowed I wouldn't fail him. So far I haven't.”

She tucked the locket back in her pajamas.

“Do you know how much Adele looks up to me? I'm her hero. She's nearly perfect and I'm such a nothing, but I'm her hero. Why is that?”

“Because a minute ago, when you slipped Jude that note, you
were
a hero.”

Crow puffed out air and stared at her sister. “You aren't going to stay with us long, are you?”

“I don't know,” I said quietly. “Why?”

She curled up and flung her Greek myth compilation at my chest. Crow's body seemed smaller, and her words shook. “Read the book: All the good people go. Only monsters remain.”

THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

C'est une chose anormale de vivre. Living is abnormal.

Eugène Ionesco

I WOKE THE NEXT MORNING
with an anxious chord pounding in my stomach. I rose from the bed and peeked in the mirror. Still Shane. Addy rolled over and drew her blankets over her shoulders. Safe there. I grabbed my balled-up jeans from the day before and dug out my locket. The vibrant green was gone, replaced by a dull pastel glow. Something was changing. Time was passing.

No matter, I'm just days away from changing everything.

Crow looked a little better—that being, of course, in measures of small degree. Three years of sleep deprivation is not cured in a night, and that's what she carried.

A word about her ritual, which was my ritual, and the night it started.

I was ten, and still trying to make sense of Dad's departure. Mom's blame was hard to dispute. Their final night's argument had raged throughout the house and was punctuated with plenty of “Crow.”

Jude the Monster was well entrenched in our home by then. He had first turned his perverted eye in Mom's direction when she and Dad went to consult with him in his role as family therapist/marriage counselor. I recall Mom returning from those sessions with a certain glow, strange to a child, but certainly noticeable. Dad came home equally affected, though in a dour direction. Soon Dad was gone, Dr. Jude had filled his shoes, and we assumed the shape of the typical American family.

Until, I think, Jude's midnight tuck-ins. At first, tender enough. A straightening of the sheets, a sweet “good night,” a quick wink.

It was a Thursday, and around midnight. Why I lay awake, I do not know, but as the door swung open, I did the natural thing for any child: I feigned unconsciousness. Jude walked over and pulled the sheets off Adele. He stood for minutes, staring. His face and hands twitched; something evil wanted to be unleashed.

He bent over and kissed her, then reached his hand toward her pajama bottoms. . . .

And I screamed and leaped out of bed. I kept right on screaming.

Would you believe Jude straightened, shook his head, and pulled his hair? “What am I doing?” He uttered tormented curses and ran from the room.

He stole nothing from Adele that night, but though I had no words for it at the time, I felt something dying inside of me. The Monster took my childhood.

His trips to our bedroom became more frequent. Always, he moved toward Adele. Always, I screamed until Mom's footsteps
thumped
down the steps or Jude cursed and left the room. Blocking the door with the bed came later, as did my late-night-”sandwich” knife, which accompanied my full understanding of the Monster's intent.

How can you doubt Mom's knowledge at some level? How can you wake to a missing man night after night? Here, I learned the power of belief, and denial. The truth would have killed her, so she refused to see it.

Couple that with the twisted tongue of a trusted therapist—one able to reframe suspicious actions in a reasonable light—and yeah, I suppose it explained Mom's lack of action.

Jude's lies never worked on me. He swore me to silence about his “friendly” visits, a vow I would break only once to Officer Dewey. It was a calculated concession on my part. I could protect Addy at night, but I couldn't follow her all day. Jude's certain and horrid threats against my sister guaranteed that if I told anyone about his “concerns,” I would not see Addy again. Looking back it seems a stretch, but blinded by affection for the one I cherished, I could not take the chance.

You're never so vulnerable as when you're in love.

• • •

I walked into the kitchen. If you didn't know better, the family appeared a contented lot. Mom worked the stove, producing a fine set of pancakes. Crow and Adele plunked down and ate quickly, though one more vigorously than the other. Jude sipped coffee and read the paper.

“Famine in Ethiopia reaches new depths.” Jude sighed. “Those poor people. How fortunate we are to have this food, this family.”

“Hey, Shane.” Crow gagged, then gestured with her fork toward the bench in the corner. “Pull on up.”

I walked to the cupboard and grabbed a plate, reached over to the drawer by the fridge and claimed a fork, then swiped a napkin from the bin behind the toaster.

I pulled up to the table. All eyes were on me.

“I declare.” Mom's hands rose to her hips. “You move around this kitchen like you've lived here your whole life.”

I bit my lip. “Oh, yeah, it's set up so logically.”

Jude cleared his throat and rattled the paper. “Big storm coming tonight. You'll all want to dress warm and be in early.”

His swipes at compassion left a lump in my throat. How could a man care about the dying, go to work, save some marriages, destroy others, return home, and destroy his stepchildren? How can all that exist within one man? What do you say to that? As Crow, I never had an answer.

But Shane did.

“Did you get my note, Jude?”

He slowly lowered the paper and shot a quick glance at Mom, busy clanking dishes.

“I don't know what note that would be, Shane.” His eyes widened and then narrowed.

“The one I slipped under the door last night. The one I gave to the heavy breather standing in the hallway outside Adele's room.”

Mom's clanking stopped, but she did not turn.

Have you seen rage cross a face? Disfigure it? Change it? That evil I mentioned took him over, and my heart beat irregularly. Crow glanced down. Only Adele ate on, a slow, thoughtful act. This topic had never before reached the kitchen.

“Why were you in the hall, Jude?” Crow's jaw was tight. “I'm curious what you were doing out there.”

“Crow! Don't talk to Jude like that.” Mom's voice quieted. “There's always a reason.”

“Did I speak with a harsh tone?” Crow's hand opened and closed, a storm gathering strength. I remembered Basil's description.

Tornado is coming.

“Is everybody here crazy?” she continued. “It's all right there.” She pointed at Jude. “It's a sickness right here in front of our faces, but we cover our eyes and live like insane—”

“Enough!” Mom pounded the sink and spun around. “Enough, enough . . . enough. How much do you want to take from me?”

I stared around the room, at Adele's confusion, at the growing crack in Mom's denial. I peeked at Jude's anger, and finally I faced Crow, me, now standing, in the center of it all. She alone fought for what was left of our family, for the only kernel of hope she could see. The truth.

It would likely cost her dearly—courage in hell usually does—but in her challenge I heard her heart, her care for Addy, her hope for Mom. She was like Dad, verbally abused but in love. Yet she was so much more than him. She was still here, fighting the battle that should have been his.

“What would we lose?” Crow approached Mom, gently grabbed her wrist. “Without him, what would we lose? We'd be okay.”

Jude cleared his throat. “How many days will you be with us, Shane?” He folded his paper and smoothed his tie.

I folded my hands. “Do I offend you?”

“No, but you seem to have upset the balance of my home. Balance is everything.”

And the psychological crap begins.

“Crow, your mother is right. There is always an explanation, but your accusations don't deserve one. How long has it been? And you still live out the shame of your actions as a little child. Let this family heal, Crow. My sessions are sacred, but I had many with your father.” He stared at Crow. “He confided many things, things for my ears only, but I tell you this for your benefit, as this pattern must stop. Cameron Raine fled this home for one reason, and from what I've heard, that reason was you.”

I wish I could have stood between those words and Crow, because they seemed to pierce like an arrow. Addy jumped to her side, and Crow glanced up, wide-eyed, desperate.

“That's not true.” Addy hugged Crow. “It wasn't her fault.”

“Oh!” Mom threw up her hands. “Now you've turned Addy against us.”

“I'm not against you, Mom; it just can't be right.”

Mom and Adele got into it, and Jude looked content. He'd turned the jury on itself.

He reached for his briefcase, removed a sheet of paper from inside, and scrawled a message, his every move calm and deliberate. He pushed the note across the table, and I mouthed the words.

I want to know you better, little pain.

I glanced up and snapped my fingers for a pen. The Monster obliged, reaching across the table and placing one in my outstretched fingers. Passing notes was part of the middle school experience, but here at breakfast with a forty-five-year-old man, the act felt twisted and dirty. I added to his note, balled it up, and tossed it back.

I'm quite certain that before this is over, you will.

He folded it neatly, slipped it into his pocket, and left the room.

Crow and Adele headed for the bedroom, leaving me alone with Mom. Her hands shook, and her voice cracked.

“Shane, you came at a bad time.”

“No,” I pushed back from the table. “Couldn't be better.”

• • •

“How did you do that?”

It had been a quiet walk to the bus stop, but Crow slowed, faced me, and grabbed my shoulders. “Listen, I know you're not normal. Nobody slips in and out of my family without a scratch. You spend time in that house, and you get wounded.” She paused. “Angel, demon, ghost—any of those ring a bell?”

I laughed and pulled free. “No. I'm just a girl, Crow. I pay attention.”

“Shut up. That sounds like Jude's psycho-babble. You aren't right.” She paused. “Do you do dreams?”

“Not following.”

“Do you know what they mean? If I told you a dream, could you figure it out?”

I snuck my hand into a pocket and toyed with the locket. “Why do you ask?”

Crow's face fell grim. “The dream came last night.” She swallowed. “I was running through a field with Adele. It was all good, you know? Mom was there. I heard Dad, too. Then the Monster showed up.”

“What did Mom say?” I asked. “In the field, when it was good. What did she say to you?” I lowered my voice. “I've always wanted to know.”

“What are you talking about?” Crow squinted.

“It was all green, right?” I whispered.

“Now you're scaring me. I didn't ask you to tell me my dream, just to interpret. Can you listen without freaking me out?”

“I'm not sure.”

Crow stuffed her hands in her pockets, “So yeah, it was all green, until the flowers popped up, yellow everywhere.”

“Then—”

“Then I woke. My sheets were drenched, and I had this feeling. I really need to know. I think I was going to die.”

I stared into her bloodshot eyes. “Dreams are funny things.”

“Am I?”

“You read way too much philosophy at thirteen.”

“Am I?”

Sadie said I was a soul-mind, but she said something else, that I couldn't come to awareness until after my physical mind fell asleep, until Crow's mind fell asleep. What if Crow's brain, deep down, knew that truth? What if she dreamed the undertow, rode an unconscious current that told her we both couldn't live at the same time, that one of us would need to go?

Crow knew, even if she didn't know what she knew. As long as I was in her life, there was the real possibility she could not be.

“Shane, I don't care so much for myself, but if I'm not here to be in that room, what happens to Adele?”

“Oh, Crow. There are things I want to tell you.” It was my turn to hang my head. “Believe me. Until this threat has disappeared, one of us will always be there with her. Can you just believe me on that?”

Crow stared hard into me. “Okay.”

“Good. And get some sleep today.”

“Yeah, and you keep going to school. And Shane?” She whisked back her hair. “Whoever you are, stick around.”

The bus hissed to a stop, and the first drops of rain fell. Straight-down rain. Rain I knew well. April 30. The door closed, and I took my seat. The sky opened up, and I stared out at Crow statued on the curb. She didn't move until the bus was out of sight.

“What a freak.” A girl I'd never seen giggled behind me. “She doesn't even care if she gets all wet.”

No, thanks to me, she's got more to worry about.