because there were people there, and we talked about stuff, like how NASA must be working on ways of growing plants without sunlight so we’ll all have food again, but you could tell everybody was crazy. Anytime someone caught a fish, there’d be singing and dancing like they’d won the lottery.”
“Do you like her?” I asked.
“I think so,” Jon said. “She talks to me like she’s interested. She talks to everybody that way. On the ride home she and I talked. She and Matt were on his bike, and I was on mine, and Matt kept whistling and singing, but Syl and I talked. I told her about you and Mom and Dad and Lisa and Horton. We talked about baseball, too, but she doesn’t know anything about it.”
I knew we had to get back into the house, but I had so many more questions. “Where’s she from?” I asked. “Did she tell you anything?”
Jon shook his head. “I did most of the talking,” he said. “But she must have told Matt. He wouldn’t have married her if he didn’t know more about her.”
I had a feeling there was a difference between exchanging vows in a motel room and actually being married, but Matt apparently didn’t care. “We’d better get inside,” I whispered. “Before Mom divorces them.”
Jon laughed nervously. I guess he’d been thinking the same thing since yesterday morning.
“You’re back,” Mom said as Jon and I walked in. “We were just chatting. Syl’s such an interesting name. Is it short for something?”
“It wasn’t the name I was born with,” Syl said. “It’s for Sylvia Plath, the poet.”
“I know who Sylvia Plath is,” Mom said.
I looked at Syl then, and I could understand why Matt had fallen in love. She’s gorgeous. We’re all thin now, but she looks intentionally thin, model thin. It was like the entire world came to an end just so you could really notice her cheekbones. And her hair. None of us have much hair, since we cut it months ago when it got hard to wash. But Syl’s hair is a braid to her waist. And even though the ash in the water makes everything look dingy, somehow her hair and clothes look clean. Or at least cleaner than I’m used to.
“Syl’s great,” Jon said. “She cleaned the fish.” He bent over and stroked Horton, who was the only happy one in the room. It probably helped that Jon reeked of fish.
“That was very nice of you, Syl,” Mom said. “I doubt Miranda was looking forward to that.”
I hadn’t given cleaning fish any thought whatsoever. “The cellar’s flooded,” I said, to hold up my end of the conversation. “Mom and I tried to dry it out yesterday, but it was too much for us.”
No one else seemed interested. “I thought I’d take the sofa-bed mattress,” Matt said. “And move it into my room for Syl and me. If we push the furniture around, the mattress should fit on the floor.”
“I found an electric space heater,” I said. “You could keep it on, and whenever there’s electricity, it’ll warm the room up.”
“That would be great,” Matt said. “Thank you, Miranda.”
“We moved the firewood into the pantry,” I said. “We were thinking about using the dining room and the kitchen as bedrooms. Maybe you’d prefer that.”
“No, we’ll have more privacy in my room,” Matt said.
Mom looked like a volcano waiting to erupt. “Saying a few words doesn’t make you married,” she said.
“Of course it does,” Matt said. “That’s what marriage vows have always been, saying a few words. Yeah, Syl and I didn’t have a minister or bridesmaids or rice, but that doesn’t make us any less married. Not in this world, Mom. No one has bridesmaids in this world.”
“They could go to City Hall on Monday, Mom,” Jon said. “If the mayor’s there, he could marry them.”
“Jon, stay out of this,” Mom said. “You, too, Miranda.”
It’s kind of hard to stay out of things when we’re all living in the same room. “Come on, Jon,” I said. “Let’s get Matt’s room ready for them.”
“Stay where you are!” Mom said. “Matt, you and Jon will sleep in the dining room. Miranda, Syl, and I will share the sunroom.”
“No,” Matt said. “Syl isn’t some stray cat I picked up on the road. We’re married and we intend to stay that way for the rest of our lives. If you can’t accept that, we’ll leave.”
I thought about how I’d run away a couple of days before, how easy it is to get lost forever, how easy it is to end up just another dead body on a mound. “Don’t go,” I said. “Mom doesn’t want you to go. You know that, Matt.”
Mom inhaled, like she was shoving the lava back into place. “Syl,” she said. “Please understand this isn’t about you. I’m sure you’re very nice. If Matt had brought you home under different circumstances, ordinary circumstances, I’d be delighted.”
“These are ordinary circumstances,” Matt said. “And they have been for a year now. Mom, Syl’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel alive now. I don’t know if I’ll still be alive six months from now. But whatever time I have, I’m going to spend it with her.”
“And you, Syl,” Mom said. “Do you feel the same way?”
Syl looked straight at Mom. “I have nothing,” she said. “My family is gone. Everything I used to think was important is gone. Matt says he loves me. How can I not love someone who says he loves me?”
I thought about the man Syl had been with. I wondered if he’d said he loved her and if she loved him because he’d said so.
“You will not be dead in six months,” Mom said. “None of us will be. Obviously I can’t pretend I’m happy about all this. We’re long past the point where you’d believe me. But I don’t want Matt to leave, and I don’t want him to threaten that he’s going to every time we get into a fight. We’re a family.” She paused. “Now the family has one more member,” she said. “I would have preferred bridesmaids and rice and a little more warning, but that’s just the way it is. We’ll have fish for dinner and that box of rice pilaf Miranda found. String beans. A wedding feast.”
Matt got up and hugged Mom. “You’ll love Syl,” he said. “I know you will. Like a daughter.”
Given the kinds of fights Mom and I have, I don’t think that’s a fate Syl will relish.
Chapter 6
We spent most of the day getting the water out of the cellar. We took turns filling the pails and emptying them. It was a long, disgusting, cruddy day. The electricity never came on, which didn’t help.
Two things, though. Syl worked just as hard as the rest of us. And we didn’t sing, so I guess we’re not crazy.
Matt and Syl biked to town today to get our food, and to see if they could get more now that Syl’s a member of the family, and to ask the mayor to make her an even more official member.
Jon and I volunteered to go with them. “I could be your bridesmaid,” I said to Syl, “and make Mom happy.”
But what made Mom happy was keeping Jon and me home to do our schoolwork. I guess the somewhat more official wedding day of our brother didn’t justify ignoring algebra and Shakespeare.
Mom didn’t supervise us, though. She spent the day in Matt’s bedroom, cleaning it. Matt’s been too impatient to bother.
“We should be going through houses,” I said to Jon. “We’re going to need more toilet paper now that Syl’s here.”
“Another bike, too,” Jon said. “People left all kinds of good stuff behind.”
“I don’t suppose they left any steak,” I said. “I’m getting tired of shad.”
“How do you think I feel?” Jon asked. “It’s all we ate last week.”
I’d been so taken aback by Syl’s existence, I hadn’t thought about what she’d be eating. The shad’s made a huge difference. Instead of sharing a can of this and a can of that and a can of something else, we’ve had a can of this and a can of that and some fish. But the shad can’t last forever, and then we’ll be back to a can of this and a can of that and a can of something else. Only with one more mouth to feed.
