听
Faces, Madelyn Falk
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚 want to take it off.鈥� He looked her straight in the eyes when he said it. The slight greenish cast of the moonlight lit his pupils with an eerie excitement.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The girl鈥檚 glance flickered to her toes. 鈥淭ake what off?鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淵ou know.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 He was right. She did know. 鈥淚 don鈥檛.鈥� She insisted. She needed to hear him say it first.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The boy gripped the denim of his jeans, drying his sweaty hands. He looked at the ground. He looked at the moon. And then finally, he looked at her. 鈥淵our face. I want to take your face off.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 The girl almost smiled under her lowered brow. Of course that鈥檚 what he wanted. 鈥淏ut They said you should never take your face off.鈥� Her hands were beginning to sweat as well. She wiped them on the hem of her dress.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淒o you believe everything They say?鈥� The boy asked. He took a step closer, so that their noses were only a few inches apart, and pressed his thumb against her lips, forcing her to look up. The moon rested behind his head like a halo, and that strange green sheen coated his features.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淔ine,鈥� She whispered against his thumb, caught like a mouse between those wild, gleaming eyes.
听听听听听听听听听听听 A smile as wide as the moon slowly split his face like a cracked egg.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She felt his thumb tug at her bottom lip as it slid below her chin and around, just below her jaw line, feeling for the dried and slightly crusted fringe of her face. He started picking as the chapped edges, gently at first, so as not to break the skin until enough had been peeled up the he could regrip. It was a similar process to pulling rolled cookie dough up from the counter.
听听听听听听听听听听听 As the 听听听听听听听听听听听 skin peeled up and over her chin, the evening air chilled the moisture that had been trapped beneath the cool, dank skin. The girl could see the flesh now. It pulled away from her cheeks like layers of wet paper.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The only part that hurt was when he got close to her eyes. It was an uncomfortable sensation. The softer flesh was peeled all the way up to her water line, yanking at her lower lashes. She tried to close her eyes, but a moment later, her eyelids were gone as well.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Her forehead came off easily, and the boy dropped his hand to his side, clutching what looked like a saggy purse made of flesh.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The boy鈥檚 grin had lessened slightly. The girl could tell he was surprised that she had actually let him remove her entire face. Standing there, under the green moonlight, he seemed at a loss for what to say. With a slightly shaking hand, and wonder filled eyes, he gently glazed a finger over her cheek, pulling away bits of slime and mold with it. 听He then handed her the face, and the boy and the girl parted ways under the strange green night.
Spiders in Her Eyes, Madelyn Falk
听 听 听 听 听 听There were spiders in her eyes. I knew it from the moment I met her.
听听听听听听听听听听听 I told my boyfriend.
听听听听听听听听听听听 I told my best friend.
听听听听听听听听听听听 I even told the stuffed rabbit on my bed.
听听听听听听听听听听听 They didn鈥檛 know what to say.
听听听听听听听听听听听 So one night, I snuck down the hallway.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The walls were pasted over with the familiar nursery pattern of daisies. They watched me like the eyes of owls and vermin, glowing in the moonlight, as I wondered towards her open door.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Her room was cloaked in the kind of silence one only finds in an empty church. Though her chest rose and fell, not even the whisper of her breath could be heard.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She lay on her bed like a princess before burial. Her slender arms were crossed over her chest, and her nightgown fanned around her thin frame. Moonlight dripped from her cheeks and her hair, staining the sheets beneath.
听听听听听听听听听听听 I tip toed through the doorframe, cringing after each step. The silence was sacred. And I was a disruption to this burial chamber.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Soon I stood over her still body, casting a shadow on the sheets.
听听听听听听听听听听听 I leaned over her like a mother, careful not to let my hair brush over her cheeks, and held my breath as I assessed her eye lashes.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The lashes stuck together in thick, spindly clumps that pointed upward in odd angles, sometimes even crossing over one another. They held a strange resemblance to the clawed hand of a scarecrow, straw fingers jagged with tension.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The lashes fidgeted even in her sleep.
I wondered if the spiders knew I was here.
听听听听听听听听听听听 If perhaps they were waving.
听听听听听听听听听听听 I placed a hand on her check, index finger along her nose, and thumb under her jaw. When she did not move, I brushed my other hand over her eyelid, and very carefully peeled the skin away from her eye.
听听听听听听听听听听听 It felt like film over a marble. 听As the lid pulled back and the eye was unveiled, the lashes began to dance frantically, twitching and curling into themselves, desperate to cling to their blanket of an eyelid.听
听听听听听听听听听听听 I pulled the lid away further, until I could see them.
听听听听听听听听听听听 They were ugly little things. Small black bodies with a dusting of peach fuzz. Long, spindly legs. Some were on their backs, waving confused limbs. Angry at being roused from sleep. Others tried to slip away behind the girls eye, and got stuck in her tear ducts. And others scurried down her cheeks like small back tears.
I was right. There were spiders in her eyes.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The next day I told my boy friend, I told my best friend, and I even told the stuff rabbit on my bed. They still did not know what to say.
听听听听听听听听听听听
Look at Him; Let Him Look at You, Danny Jackson
Pull out a cigarette and light it. Lie down, open a sketchbook, and begin to draw in it like you can鈥檛 feel your heartbeat radiating into the sand. Draw until he sits next to you, until he asks you for a cigarette.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淵ou should take your underwear off,鈥� he says. Shrug. Chuckle, just a little.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Say: 鈥淢aybe in a bit,鈥� but don鈥檛 mean it. Don鈥檛 tell him that you鈥檙e afraid of the sun burning your penis, that you鈥檙e afraid of putting sunscreen on your penis because the touch might make it hard and that you鈥檙e afraid of being hard and naked on this beach. Don鈥檛 look at his penis, either, because that might make you hard, too, and your tight, black briefs won鈥檛 hide much. All right, look at his penis, but quickly. Get a little hard.
听听听听听听听听听听听 When he asks, 鈥淗ave you been to a nude beach before?鈥� tell him, 鈥淣o, but I鈥檝e been to nude hot springs.鈥� When you say nude hot springs, remember the lukewarm pool next to the river. Remember the rain. Remember the nakedness of her and of you, remember the thick mud between your toes. The clubhouse feel of the redwood trees and the light fog floating through the bushes. The childhood of it.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Ask him his name and tell him yours. Put your cigarette out. When he shakes your hand, try not to think of your dad. Try not to think of your professors. It will feel like networking. It will always feel a little like networking. Say: 鈥淚t鈥檚 nice to meet you Nick鈥� while you watch his eyes wander down from yours, with your hand still in his. Watch the corners smile while the rest stays quiet.
听听听听听听听听听听听 When he asks, 鈥淒o you have a light?鈥� blush a little. He鈥檚 been holding an unlit cigarette that you forgot to light. Dig through your backpack slowly; keep digging after you find the lighter. Hand it to him only once the blush falls from your cheeks. Or rather, don鈥檛 hand it to him. Light his cigarette for him. Watch the flame reflect in his eyes.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The two of you lie quietly on the sand, his smoke floating softly over your back. You open your book and start to read, and he slips headphones into his ears. His breath steadies and you look at him after a chapter, see that he鈥檚 asleep on his stomach. You look at his mouth, half open and squished against the sand. You look at his dark hair and light stubble, at his eyebrow piercing. A white tee and tight jeans, you decide, if he were wearing clothes. He鈥檇 wear a hat too, but not like a baseball player nor like a late night college boy. He鈥檇 wear a hat that pressed his dark hair against his forehead and that threw shadows beneath his cheekbones.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Close your eyes and slip your trunks off. Lie naked next to him. Feel your body fall into the ground, unrestrained. The air brushes against your skin, between your toes. The sun dances through the hairs near your navel. A grain of sand rolls down your hipbone. The men walking along the beach pause, now, as they near you. Some whisper, but your eyes are closed. They gaze less when you can鈥檛 see them. Pull your trunks back on.
听听听听听听听听听听听
听听听听听听听听听听听 He鈥檚 gone when you wake up, but he moved his towel next to yours. The morning clouds have burned off. The beach is still; the men have stopped walking. When you take off your trunks again, you know that no one is watching. They are irrelevant, now. You are wondering how well your penis is taking to the sun. They have not met often. You are wondering not just about your penis, but parts of your thighs too. You want to look down, to see what you look like in the daylight, but instead you stretch. Casual, you remember. Be casual. No one is watching. Everyone is.
Walk toward the ocean. Walk like you are used to an absence of cloth between your legs, like your gait has not been shaped by the fit of your jeans. You stand in the water, waves crashing on your calves and pulling at your ankles. Glance down;, pretend to look at the waves.
You walk until you wear the water over your hips. You want to dive in, to hide underneath. You want your bare ass to slip between the dry world and into the wet (one) with his eyes on it. You want to emerge from the water, your long hair arcing through the air, but your hair is short so maybe you want to rise with a smooth shake, your hair falling in thin lines around your closed eyes.
When you dive in, want nothing.
Wanting is for the air, but underneath you are both naked and clothed. You are suspended and invisible. You are punching the ocean floor, seashells sliding into your knuckles. The water clouds around you and the waves sweep over you and your frustrated sweat slips away.
When you surface, push your hair back from your forehead. Hope he can see your armpit. Hope he sees your ribcage and the tense muscles of your back draped lightly over it. Look back to the beach, where his towel is still empty.
Dive again, and again. Sometimes smash the surface of the water rather than the floor. Be angry, beneath. Fight against the currents that try to shape you. But always, always rise with grace, waiting for him to see.
He鈥檚 back on his towel and you鈥檙e walking back to yours. Be wet and shriveled and naked when he smiles.
鈥淵ou lost the trunks,鈥� he says, squinting at the sun. And then: 鈥淵ou鈥檝e got great balls.鈥�
鈥淭hanks,鈥� you say, and kiss him when you sit down. Don鈥檛 realize until later that you hadn鈥檛 kissed him before.
听
When he talks to you, his voice rumbles鈥攊t is deep but sharp. It flows with the ocean waves, crashing and rebuilding, crashing and rebuilding.
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 realize until it fell apart,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut it pulled me out of the community. I wasn鈥檛 meeting new guys or going to events. Guys just don鈥檛 talk as much when they aren鈥檛 trying to have sex.鈥�
Your palm is on his chest and you feel his lungs pull the words from the air, shake them around, and let them tumble out again.
鈥淪o you鈥檙e single now?鈥� you say.
鈥淣o, but it鈥檚 open. I don鈥檛 need to know what he does when we鈥檙e apart. I just need him to always come home at the end of the day.鈥�
鈥淭hat鈥檚 cute,鈥� you say, and you mean it. You think about your boyfriend. Realize that you won鈥檛 tell him about this day. Realize that you haven鈥檛 thought about him all day. Feel guilty, and then let it fade. Stop thinking about your boyfriend. Remember why he isn鈥檛 here, and why you came to this beach. Curl your fingertips against the chest of the man lying next to you. 鈥淒oes it feel serious?鈥�
鈥淛ust as serious as everything else,鈥� he says as he lays his hand on yours. 鈥淲e share bills, share a bed, but we aren鈥檛 entangled yet. I don鈥檛 think we ever will be. But that doesn鈥檛 mean it isn鈥檛 something serious.鈥�
His eyes flick toward the sky, so you follow them. A few hang gliders drift above you. One waves, and Nick waves back. Think about the hang gliders landing just to the south. Think about them landing next to children and families; think of how they will soon be telling about their fall. Wonder if maybe they will tell about the naked gay men they floated over. Wonder if it makes you uncomfortable that strangers will be sharing the story of your nakedness as if you were a curiosity on their afternoon adventure. This story is not yours, anymore. Remember when you clutched all the threads of your story and hid them from everyone. See the threads you still hold close, embrace them, and then let them go.
听
You walk away from him again. You feel like you need to be under the water among tangible currents. You invited him, but are glad that he declined.
The sand burns your feet, so you walk at the edge of the waves. You walk past naked couples and they smile into your eyes. You walk past lone naked men, and they smile with restlessness. A man sitting on a towel watches you, says hello. You smile. Keep walking. You look for a break in the crowd of men, hoping to swim out of sight. But the sun is high, now, and they are awake.
You keep walking, though, because you enjoy the feeling of moving your legs without any clothing. You enjoy moving. The joints in your hips test new motions as they fight to carry you through the sand, broader motions than clothes allow for. You look down and watch your legs move.
He is also walking, the man that you just walked past, the one that had been sitting on the towel. Pause and walk a few feet into the ocean; feign wistfulness. He pauses too. Walk again. He walks. The men so keen to see you earlier are gone now鈥攜ou鈥檝e moved past the heart of the beach鈥� and the two of you walk and pause down the coast.
He yells, 鈥淗ey!鈥� a few times but don鈥檛 look. Remember his patched hair, his long white socks, his sandals and hidden feet. Think about the rays of the sun on your penis again. Try to remember if you reapplied sunscreen.
Keep walking, slowly, with him still behind you. Angle away from the water, toward two men, each with skin that鈥檚 more sun than man. One sits up鈥攕it next to him. Whisper to him. Look uncomfortable. He takes your hand as the man with white socks walks up and sits across from you.
鈥淚鈥檓 Jared,鈥� the man that followed you says, and sticks a hand out. You ignore it, and his hand drops to your leg.
The man next to you squeezes your hand. 鈥淗i Jared,鈥� he says. 鈥淚鈥檓 Tim.鈥�
Jared鈥檚 eyes have fallen with his hand and stopped on your crotch. His hand slides up your leg and he says,
鈥淲ant to hang out for a bit?鈥�
鈥淣o thanks.鈥� Push his hand from your leg. He puts his other hand on his dick, pulls at the skin. Bend your knee.
鈥淗i Jared, I鈥檓 Tim,鈥� Tim repeats, this time with a hint of musicality. 鈥淎nd you should probably go.鈥�
Jared turns his head toward Tim, his eyes still on you for a moment before he blinks and stares at Tim, then at the man sleeping next to Tim, then back at you.
鈥淚 get it. I get it. When you get bored with the daddies, come find me.鈥� He stands up, winks, and jogs down the beach. Let go of Tim鈥檚 hand and pull both knees against your chest. Set your chin on your forearm. You are naked and shriveled and cold in the sunshine. Tim lies down again and closes his eyes. Wish you had pockets so that you would have your phone so that you could text someone and be in a conversation outside of yourself. Bite your forearm until it turns red.
鈥淐an I borrow some sunscreen?鈥� you ask Tim and he laughs.
鈥淪ure babe. Has he been bothering you all day?鈥�
鈥淛ust started following me down the beach,鈥� you say as you stretch your legs out, lean back on your elbows. 鈥淪exually aggressive guys always remind me of straight men.鈥�
Tim laughs, and the man sleeping next to him does too.
鈥淭hey aren鈥檛 really part of our culture.鈥� He pulls a bottle of sunscreen from his bag and lays it next to you. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e right, they鈥檝e learned the rituals of relationships from watching straight men. They don鈥檛 know the beauty of mutual want. They just know their own desire.鈥�
鈥淚 feel like I just met a human dick pic,鈥� you say, and squeeze the bottle onto your palm. 鈥淚s there an etiquette for sun screening?鈥�
鈥淒o it quick, and don鈥檛 ask a buddy for help in front of the patrol.鈥�
鈥淭hanks.鈥� You start to stand up, but he pulls you back down.
鈥淵ou also have to actually rub in it.鈥� His hand paws at your thighs, at your genitals. 鈥淵ou shouldn鈥檛 be walking around here with white goo all over your dick.鈥�
You thank Tim, again. You kiss his cheek before you leave.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Walk back to your towel and to Nick. Don鈥檛 think about the movement of your legs or the smiles of the men you pass. Don鈥檛 think about Jared or about his socks. When you lie next to Nick again, tell him about the strange kindness of an older man wiping sunscreen from your penis. Remember nature documentaries with British accents, with monkeys pulling bugs from each other鈥檚 fur. Imagine sitting on a tree branch next to Nick, the bark against your skin. Imagine eating a piece of fruit while he pulls bugs from your hair, a gross kindness. Imagine trying to suck his dick on a tree branch.
听听听听听听听听听听听 You sit up and kiss him. He turns on his side.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淵ou never told me if you鈥檙e single or not,鈥� he says.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚鈥檓 single here.鈥� You think you smile coyly, but guilt tugs at your eyes. You think about why you are single here, on this beach, in this state, on this vacation. Remember telling your boyfriend that he couldn鈥檛 come with you. Think about the fight. Think about how neither of you were fighting the other, but rather yelling together at a wall that you weren鈥檛 strong enough to knock down. Not a wall between the two of you, but between the two of you and your family.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淲here are you not single?鈥� he asks.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淯p in Seattle. I go to school there.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淎nd your boyfriend?鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗e bartends. We met a couple months ago at his work.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淐ute. My boyfriend and I met at a bar too.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 He rolls onto his back and tosses a shirt over his face. He reaches out for your hand, and you give it to him.
听听听听听听听听听听听 You lie with your eyes closed, sight turned salmon by the sun, and push a headphone into your right ear. You check the time and close your eyes again. You open them again when Nick鈥檚 hand pulls from yours.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗ey, this is my friend Sean.鈥� You rub your eyes and guess at which silhouette is Nick.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗ey Sean,鈥� you say and shake the hand that materializes before you.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淪ean and I are going to the back trails to fool around a bit. Do you want to come?鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 You decline, but your skin shivers with a desire that you refuse to acknowledge. You wait until they鈥檝e walked out of sight and you head back toward the ocean.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The water plays with your skin now, and your body stops longing for the men behind you. When the ocean pulls at your ankles, you listen to it and tread deeper into the water. It laps up your legs to your stomach, and then falls back down. Do not wear it on your waist. Learn the freedom of the water. Let it decide what parts of you to hide. Let it clothe and unclothe you as the waves crash and retreat. Dive into a wave and trace the ocean floor with your fingertips. Feel for seashells and sand dollars. Cross your legs and sit just barely on the sand, your hair drifting around the tips of your ears while you masturbate and think of what would be lost by fucking someone other than your boyfriend. Give up on touching yourself; give up on playing a role in a play written for someone else; give up on sitting below the reflective cover of the water and decide to be seen. Float near the surface and feel the waves tug at you. Let them push you into shallow waters, and then lie in the sand and let the waves crash onto you. Let the water fall between your calves and let the foam stick to the hairs on your legs and let the sand crawl into the folds of your skin. Don鈥檛 be sexy, but be seen.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Wash the sand from your body and walk back to your towel. Nick is there, alone. He kisses you when you sit down and this time you taste something new, something that might be Sean.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗ow was the ocean?鈥� he asks. You smile and tell him that you saw a leopard shark.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淭hey like to hang out here a lot. There aren鈥檛 as many swimmers to bother them.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗ow was Sean?鈥� you ask, and he smiles.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淲e almost got caught by the patrol. We walked out just as they were heading down the trail.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 You lie down, and Nick lies on his side. He moves close to you, lays his shoulder next to yours.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淪o you didn鈥檛 want to come.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚 wanted to swim.鈥� Look up at his face. Bend your right arm behind your head, resting on your knuckles.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚 wanted you to come.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 Look at his fingers, which are now between yours. Look at how dry they are, and sandy. Feel the edges of his fingernails with your thumb. Bite lightly on the tip of his pointer finger.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淪ean didn鈥檛 do it for you?鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 let him try.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 You let go of his hand and put your fingers on the back of his jaw. You kiss him. You pull him against you. Want him. Want him, but not just hidden in the trails behind the beach. Want people to see the two of you in the trails behind the beach. Want the politics of fucking him behind the beach and in your car and in a hotel room paid for by your parents. Want him, but also want the rebellion of him. Want the concept of him.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Then realize that he wants the concept of you, too. The politics of you. Realize the statement that his body makes as it presses against you. Recoil from the idea that your body is a statement. Slip your tongue between his teeth. Embrace the politics of his body feeling your body because you鈥檝e never known sex without it. Push him away and stand up. Pull him to his feet. Walk together away from the ocean and into the back trails.
听
听听听听听听听听听听听 Lay your head on his thigh and let him rest his arm on your chest. Feel the rock against your back and your legs. Feel both the sharp edges and the warmth against your skin. Watch the clouds move slowly behind his head. Want nothing.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淵ou should know that I鈥檓 on PrEP,鈥� he says. 鈥淢y boyfriend is positive.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 You lay your hand on top of his.
鈥淭hat fucking sucks. How is he?鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗e鈥檚 good. Better. It鈥檚 still new for the both of us.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗ow are you?鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚鈥檓 fine. Just learning how to be...鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 You squeeze his hand and look back at the empty sky.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淭here鈥檚 a fundraising event tonight, if you鈥檙e free. Five dollar cover at the club downtown and all proceeds go to HIV support groups.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚 can鈥檛,鈥� you say. 鈥淚 have a family thing.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 He slides his fingers through your hair. You want to tell him you will be there. You want to bring him with you.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Walk with him back to your towels. Put your sketchbooks into your bag and shake the sand from your trunks. Dig your phone out of your bag and get his number. Get his last name, too, and his Snapchat username. Stuff your clothes into your bag and walk away. Walk to the end of the gay section, the beginning of the straight nude beach, and then put your briefs back on. Put a shirt on, too. Wait until the end of the straight nude beach to step into your shorts.
Hospice Care, Dina Lipsten
The door gave way on the third pull, which meant the cabin was untouched. Nobody left alive would be so cavalier as to leave their fate with a single knob lock. Zanna breathed a low sigh of relief and pushed the broken wood inward, setting the crowbar down against the wall. She was used to living lean, now, drinking water all day to convince herself she was full. But stopping to pee on the side of the road, she was at her most vulnerable.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She searched the kitchen first. The powerless fridge gasped out a cloud of fruit-rot when she opened it. What were you expecting? she wondered as she doubled over, heaving. The inner monologue voice still sounded like Bethany, her last travel companion. It was hard to get her out of her head.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The cupboards did better. A few cans 鈥� clam chowder, chili beans, stewed tomatoes. She swept them into the mouth of her pack mechanically, in one smooth motion. Zanna didn鈥檛 search houses for survivors first anymore.听
听听听听听听听听听听听 She had meant to sweep the place and eat as she walked for the rest of the day if she got lucky, but sight of the chili on the label made her shake. She鈥檇 run the next five miles if she had to. Today, she would take her meal sitting.
听听听听听听听听听听听 As she went to fetch a bowl, she noted the crockery collecting dust, in full sets, in the cupboard near the window. Nobody had been living here recently. There weren鈥檛 even dish towels on the cabinet hooks. A short-term rental, she reasoned. Ski-in, ski-out cabin. Zanna had never been skiing and didn鈥檛 know what that would look like.
听听听听听听听听听听听 While she ate, she read the label over and over. Bush鈥檚 Chili Beans 鈥� subheading: pinto beans in mild chili sauce! The exclamation point struck her as phony. She had once taken a standardized test in English that described the process of food styling 鈥� mashed potatoes groomed to look like ice cream and drizzled with viscous hot fudge, apples hand-picked for perfection and waxed to a photogenic sheen. She鈥檇 gagged, hunched over her scantron sheet. Nowadays, she鈥檇 probably eat the hot fudge mashed potatoes and not think twice.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Bowl licked clean, she stood from the table and caught herself taking the dish and cutlery to the sink. What for? she thought. And, perhaps because she could, she dropped the bowl on the floor. The spoon clattered out. The can rolled toward the fridge. But the bowl bounced once and landed face-up, completely intact. Zanna grumbled, shouldered her pack and stomped up the stairs.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She ran her fingers over the gaudy carved railing as she went. Her sister Lacey had exactly this pattern at the farm. Zanna had vivid memories of clutching the rails in her little fists, watching a narrow-hipped Santa put newspaper-wrapped presents under a grubby little bald tree. And then memories of standing at the bottom of the landing, looking up at her playing nieces, shouting, 鈥淚鈥檓 home!鈥� and reveling in the shrieking pitter-patter of tiny feet racing into her arms. She had moved in with her sister at fifteen, and stayed until the collapse. It was terribly lonely at times, but better than before.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Upstairs, the bedrooms were immaculate. A small one with bunk beds, a larger one with a queen sized, both made up with hospital corners. It had bed-and-breakfast wallpaper, the kind of place Hunter Bowley took her to after a school dance so they could fuck in peace 鈥� the cops patrolled the kissing point with flashlights when the high school threw events.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The bunk bed room proved mostly useless, though she picked up a scratchy woolen blanket she figured might be worth something at the next trading post. She tried the closet door in the master bedroom halfheartedly, and opened it onto a demure series of pre-assembled outfits. A gingham short-sleeve and jeans, a thick flannel and fleece-lined trousers. Five or six sets. Something in her stomach curled. The flannel beckoned to her - she needed something to wear underneath the increasingly useless leather jacket. But it would not receive her; it felt the same as if she were to snatch it off a breathing human body. She returned downstairs, touching nothing, and pressed herself against the wall beside the gaping broken door. She gasped, sucking in air hard; she hadn鈥檛 realized she was holding her breath.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She would have left the house completely were not it for the woodshed she knew she鈥檇 seen in back from her lookout. She had to return with real tools. Pliers, wrenches, a better knife, anything. Her gear was in bad shape and wouldn鈥檛 last her the rest of the way. Before Bethany, she had traveled with Mitch, one of her little brother鈥檚 school friends. The kid had supplied the small camping stove, the survival knife, both bikes and an extensive wilderness first aid kit. 鈥淲e need to kick over a Sports Authority or something,鈥� he鈥檇 insist. 鈥淭his stuff won鈥檛 get us by, it鈥檚 my boy scout shit.鈥� He鈥檇 shift his gaze nervously when he swore, like his mother might come down on him and bend his ear.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淲e鈥檒l find something,鈥� she鈥檇 say. 鈥淲e鈥檒l figure it out.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 Three weeks later, she left him shivering and crying in their only blanket, under a tree in a beautiful national park, the infection spreading. Even then, she had known a kill shot to the head would be more merciful, but she couldn鈥檛 pull the trigger. She had left him with their only gun, penance for her cowardice. Sometimes, in moments of self-loathing, she wondered if he鈥檇 had a chance to put it in his mouth before the infection took hold. It was Zanna鈥檚 favorite solitary pastime 鈥� punishing herself for the people lost on her watch. Bethany had fought her on it tooth and nail, and ironically had become another source of the self-flagellation.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淥kay,鈥� Zanna said to no one, standing up straight and wiping her soaked brow. Almost theatrically, she picked up the crowbar, marched through the still house and opened the back door. The woodshed was padlocked. She鈥檇 have quite an ordeal prying the thing off, but she鈥檇 do it.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Not two steps out the door, she heard a shriek. No, not a shriek 鈥� a crackle. It was a slightly mechanical gasping sound, increasingly more normal to her every time she encountered it. And it was right by her head. She whipped around, tingling with panic, and found the culprit. The skeletal remains of what had been an old man. Eyes gouged out by crows, flesh fused to the padding of his deck chair. He didn鈥檛 reach for her or turn his head, only gasped again, that skin-crawling rattle.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淗ey, old man,鈥� Zanna stuttered, her voice shuddering. If she could just keep talking to him, the shakes would subside. 鈥淵ou don鈥檛 mind if I borrow some tools, do ya? I鈥檒l give 鈥榚m right back.鈥� The man gave a short, ragged gasp.
听听听听听听听听听听听 His face sagged a specific way 鈥� not a side effect of rotting flesh. She recognized it in the down-curl of the mouth to one side, in the single sagging lower eyelid. As a young teenager, she had visited her father in the hospital, days before they moved him to hospice. She hadn鈥檛 realized how old he was until she stood over him, limp and twitchy-eyed on his cot. Somewhere in the endless hours of sitting beside him, nose in her book, afraid to see him, an unbearable odor bloomed in the room between them. The shift nurse came in, and her face fell. 鈥淪hit,鈥� the woman said. Zanna rarely heard adults curse, and she remembered it. She remembered being forced into the hall by the appalling smell as the nurse flipped her father over like a rag doll and began to change him. Later, lingering in her niece鈥檚 nursery as her sister swapped out a fresh diaper, Zanna was overcome by sobs.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淭hanks, old man,鈥� she muttered, already half-turned to the woodshed. The crowbar bent with the strain of the lock but, several dozen kicks and pulls in, the thing came clattering to her feet, engulfed in the cacophony of inhuman hisses and crackles behind her. She punched the air softly with a fist, a gesture that didn鈥檛 leave the line of her waist.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The tools were lined up along the wall like the clothes on the hangers, but the saw on the workbench was askew, as if it had been left mid-use. There was a half-prepped tool belt hanging from a hook. One hammer. A cylinder of a hundred nails. Something crunched under her boot, and she realized she had stepped on loose plywood, mostly cut in the size of a window. She could still hear the corpse rattling and snarling quietly outside.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She took the tool belt, the pliers and hammer, a drill with two alternate bits in the handle, and a multitool that seemed out of place there. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 all you need,鈥� she said aloud to herself. She never talked to herself outside her head and didn鈥檛 know why it seemed right, now. 鈥淟et鈥檚 go.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 As she paced back through the house, rocking the crowbar up and down edgily in one hand, a snatch of music wafted by. Her mother, bent over the basil plant, snipping and humming the tune of 鈥淥h Susanna!鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淵ou鈥檙e humming off key,鈥� Zanna would observe.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚t鈥檚 not perfect, but it鈥檚 your song,鈥� her mother would sigh. 鈥淢y Susanna.鈥� And she鈥檇 brush Zanna鈥檚 hair behind her ear. In the later years, as their relationship bent to disrepair, Zanna would ache for that gesture, even when she caught her sister packing her bags under her mother鈥檚 watchful eye. She was fourteen then, and understood. Lacey had been her dad鈥檚. Zanna鈥檚 mother had come into the cracks of a broken home like a sidewalk weed and insinuated herself in the spaces. It was a wonder Zanna herself had escaped Lacey鈥檚 ire in the teen years. It was a wonder how they loved each other so much.
听听听听听听听听听听听 鈥淚t鈥檚 not my fault. It wasn鈥檛 my fault,鈥� her sister kept saying that night.
听听听听听听听听听听听 Even now, with no love left for the blurry specter of the past that had been her mother, Zanna sympathized. A husband and a young son gone in the span of a year. A hateful stepdaughter, a belligerent teenager aimlessly skulking the halls all day. It must have been lonely.
听听听听听听听听听听听 The tightness in her chest bloomed and burst into butterflies as she thumped back down the steps, backpack heavy on her shoulders. Keep going, she thought. Keep walking. But her feet slowed, and she stopped halfway down the hill. 鈥淒on鈥檛 do it,鈥� she whispered, clenching her fist around the crowbar. 鈥淒on鈥檛.鈥�
听听听听听听听听听听听 And even so, she found herself turning around and marching back up toward the house, through the broken front door and out to the backyard. She stood in front of the old man鈥檚 corpse, gnarled and sightless, its head jerking feebly side to side. Flies rose in clouds around the dried-out human excrement below the rocking chair, buzzing dangerously close to her nose and mouth as she inhaled. She gave herself no warning, allowed no shred of thought, as she plunged the crowbar into one gory eye socket and twisted hard. A smattering of blood and brain speckled her face and hands. The rattling stopped, the head slumped, and the silence rose up around her like flies.
听听听听听听听听听听听 She left the guilt at the top of the hill and walked back down to the road.