horrors I haven’t witnessed but have changed my life, the lives of everyone I know, all the people I’ll never know. I thought about life without the sun, the moon, stars, without flowers and warm days in May. I thought about a year ago and all the good things I’d taken for granted and all the unbearable things that had replaced those simple blessings. And even though I hated the thought of crying in front of Syl, tears streamed down my face.
“That’s good,” she said, gently wiping my cheeks. “Your tears are the best offering of all.”
It was an awful day.
It started raining last night and it never stopped. It was cold and windy, and the combination made me realize we haven’t had electricity in a week or more. All those lovely electric heaters are useless.
We had no idea when Matt and Jon would get back, but we knew they’d have a hard trip because of the rain. Mom checked on the cellar to see if it was flooded, and she cursed so loudly, Syl and I could hear her from the sunroom.
Horton’s hardly eaten since Jon left, but in spite of that he managed to throw up a hairball. Even though we’ve been cooking the shad on the barbecue outside, the sunroom stinks of fish. Two aspirin did nothing for my head ache.
Matt and Jon got in around 4:00. Last week they brought back two huge bags of fish and a sister-in-law. This time all they had was a half bag.
“We stayed as long as we could,” Jon said. “There was hardly any fish. Everyone was gone.”
“Put on some dry clothes,” Mom said. “We’ll be fine with what you caught.”
But we all knew we wouldn’t be. We’ll go through the fish in no time, and then it’ll be five people with food for four. I can tell myself over and over that I’m used to being hungry, that it isn’t so bad, but it is bad and I hate it. I just hate being cold and lonely and dirty more.
The first thing Matt did was go to Syl and hug her so hard I thought she’d choke. “I kept thinking what if you’re not here,” he said. “What if you left while I was gone?”
“Why would I do that?” Syl asked, which wasn’t exactly the same as “I love you and need you and will never ever leave you.”
Matt pulled away from her and then he noticed. “What did you do to your hair?” he said. “Mom, did you make Syl cut her hair off? Was it so she should look like shit, the same as the rest of us?”
“No, Matt,” I said. “Mom tried to talk her out of it.” It didn’t seem like the right time to explain about offerings to the moon goddess Diana.
“I was tired of it,” Syl said. “It was a nuisance to keep clean. Besides, this way I look like I belong.”
“You don’t belong,” Matt said. “Don’t you understand? I love you because you’re different from everything I’ve been stuck with this past year.”
“I’m sick of you, too!” Jon shouted. “I don’t want to be in this stupid family, either!”
“Matt, you go upstairs,” Mom said. “You and Syl both. Take your fight to your room. And change into dry clothes while you’re up there.”
“Mom, you can’t keep telling me what we should do,” Matt said.
“Yes, I can,” Mom said. “As long as you live under my roof. Now go!”
Syl took Matt’s hand and led him out.
“Miranda, take the bag of fish and put it in the garage,” Mom said. “Now.”
“Can I put my coat on first?” I asked.
“No back talk!” Mom said. “Get out.”
I grabbed the pathetic half-full bag of smelly, disgusting, uncleaned fish and went out into the cold, dreary, rainy day. When I got to the garage (which in all honesty took about ten seconds), I realized I didn’t have the key to the padlock. I was stuck outside in the cold, dreary rain until Mom came to her senses.
I didn’t know how long it would take Matt to fall in love with shorthaired Syl, but my guess was once he noticed her cheekbones, he’d adjust. Which meant the two of them would resume their honeymoon and it’d be a while before we saw them again. Which was fine with me.
But what I really couldn’t be sure of was how long Mom would need to talk with Jon. And even though my head hurt, and I hate shad, and I was cold and wet and hungry and scared, I knew Jon was cold and wet and hungry and scared and really angry at Matt, who must have made his life miserable for the past few days.
So I stood against the garage wall with the bag of shad by my side. It began raining really hard then. There was no way to keep dry, and I began to shiver.
“It’d serve them right if I died of pneumonia,” I said to myself, because when you’re stuck outside in the rain with half a bag of dead fish, you say stupid things like that out loud.
I thought about pulling the shad out of the bag and counting them, multiplying by two, for the two remaining bags, then dividing the total by five, so I could guess how short a time it would be before all we’d have were a few cans of vegetables to keep us alive.
I thought about the mound of bodies.
I thought about what a really rotten moon goddess Diana had turned out to be.
I wasn’t outside for more than ten minutes, but it was long enough that I was shaking pretty badly by the time Jon came to get me. He was carrying my coat and an umbrella.
“Mom says she’s sorry,” he said.
I knew she was. I knew Matt was, too. I knew we were all sorry. That’s what we’re best at. Being sorry.
Last night Jon took the plywood off the dining room window and moved his mattress in. He now has the room to himself, although of course we can look in from the sunroom.
Mom asked me this morning if I wanted to take the plywood off the kitchen window as well. She said she’d keep sleeping in the sunroom and could check on the woodstove during the night.
I considered it, but right now what I really want is to be back in my bedroom. Being there the other day, looking at my skating trophies, made me long for my bed, my chest of drawers, my windows.
The dining room has two doors: one from the living room and one from the kitchen. But we’re never in the living room, since that’s where we put all the dining room furniture. And there’s no reason to go from the kitchen to the dining room, except for Jon to get in there.
But you have to cross the kitchen to get to the downstairs bathroom and the sunroom, and even the cellar stairs. And it’s the kitchen. We keep our food there and plates and silverware.
The dining room may only have fake privacy. But the kitchen has no privacy whatsoever.
So I’m going to keep sharing the sunroom with Mom, at least for the time being. We moved our mattresses away from the back door, and then we moved the clothesline into the kitchen so the sunroom feels less like a dorm and more like a family room.
It’s rained on and off since Matt and Jon got home. It’s not like I expect to see sunlight, but I’d like it if things dried out.
Just what we needed. A cold spell. The rain turned into snow last night, and there are a couple of fresh inches on the ground.
“Sometimes it snows in the spring,” Mom said. “It’ll melt soon enough.”
Matt and Syl took advantage of the snow day by spending it in Matt’s room. Occasionally there were shrieks.
Jon reorganized his baseball cards. Good thing we hadn’t sacrificed Mickey Mantle.
I looked out onto the backyard and pictured the mound of bodies covered once again with snow.
Chapter 7
Matt and Syl came back from town, and Matt was in a much better mood. It couldn’t have been easy biking through the snow, but he didn’t care.
