I felt sorry for her, but I also didn’t. Because Emily’s not exactly innocent either. It’s a game at which two can play. The silence, however, is torturous. We all suffer because of it. It was better when they were fighting.
Things go from bad to worse as we pull into the resort lot—the termresortused loosely, because it implies to me something bougie and this place is most definitely not. I sit in the back seat of the car taking it in, astonished that I have to spend a whole two weeks here. Two weeks. That’s an eternity. I don’t know how or if I’ll survive it. The trees are thick, shutting us in while, at the same time, blocking out the sun, which pretty much demolishes any hope of going home with a tan, which is the only thing I was looking forward to on this trip. A sad swing set sits beside the lake, looking like something straight out of Emily and Nolan’s generation; it’s metal with two pathetic swings and a dumpy slide, beside a rusted merry-go-round that’s no doubt going to give someone tetanus. Just beside the lake is a sandbox with broken-looking plastic toys and a little kid waddling around in his bulky swim diaper while his mom watches on. The lake itself looks pretty, but the beach we were promised doesn’t exist, the trees and grass running right up to the shoreline where there is a slanted pier, which dips sideways toward the lake. I see Emily look at it, and in her mind, I know she’s already pitching a fit about how she doesn’t want Mae going on the pier alone, as if Mae isn’t ten, as if Mae can’t swim. But because Mae’s the baby of the family, she treats her like one, and Mae milks it for all it’s worth.
“Look how pretty it is,” Emily says then, finding her voice, though it’s phony and forced as if trying to convince herself as much as the rest of us that it is actually pretty. Last year we were in Hawaii, surfing, snorkeling with sea turtles and sunbathing on the warm sandy beaches, but this year, money is tight because Nolan got laid off and still hasn’t found a job, despite the fact that his severance package ran out weeks ago and we may or may not have health insurance. I shouldn’t know that, but Ido, because Emily isn’t quiet about telling him it’s time to get more motivated about finding a job. She was subtle at first (How is the résumé coming along? You want me to take a look at it?), but then I heard her tell him the other day that the mall was hiring. Imagine that. From software engineer to minimum wage retail sales at Gap. I saw the look in his eye when she said it, like he wanted to strangle her. Like he didn’t have a degree from MIT.
Are you fucking serious right now?he’d asked. They were standing in the kitchen where anyone could see or hear.
What?she’d asked.I thought they might have good benefits and it would give you something to do until something better comes along.
They fought about it later, screaming at each other behind the closed bedroom door as if it was somehow soundproof, him about how she emasculated him, her about how he was worthless and how she couldn’t support the family on her own.
I took Mae and we went out for ice cream. She didn’t need to hear that shit.
Now our car follows a curvy dirt road through the trees and to our cottage, kicking up dust as we go. The cottage, when we get to it, is grayish green and set a little way back from the lake, on a hill, with trees on all sides. It’s bigger than the rest, but that’s not saying much, because the rest of the cottages are actually tiny. This place was my Uncle Elliott’s idea. He suggested we come here, because he’s been here before and liked it, which means I have him to blame for this trip. It’s his fault. If he wouldn’t have suggested it, we wouldn’t have come.
Nolan parks the car and we climb out, getting ambushed by swarms of hungry mosquitoes the minute we do. We go around to the back of the car, lugging our stuff from the trunk, everyone complaining.
“I can barely walk. My legs are asleep.”
“Can we just go inside first? Do we have to unpack right this minute? I have to pee.”
“Grab a couple bags and we can go in.”
“That’s not mine. It’s Wyatt’s. Make him carry it.”
“Just carry something. It’s all going to the same place.”
“Get out of my way unless you want me to pee right here.”
“Can everyone just relax,please? We’re on vacation.”
We climb the steps onto a small porch, where Nolan unlocks and throws open the door.
One by one we step inside the dark and dingy cottage, everyone eager to get in, which turns out to be a huge mistake because I soon realize that I don’t know what’s worse: being trapped in the car together for five hours or being here.
Courtney
It’s Nolan. My big brother, Nolan. He’s dead. His limp body lies at the top of the stairs, hard to see at first from the angle and because it’s darker at the top of the stairs, blanketed in shadows, the scant sunlight not reaching there. He lies on his side, his eyes vacant and opaque, staring lifelessly through the wooden balusters and toward the first floor. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth, draining down the side of his face, drying. Redness blooms from his temple.
I stumble backward, tasting vomit in my mouth. Behind me, Cass still screams, but Mae is much quieter, something more like the whimper of a trapped animal being stalked by a predator.
I tear my eyes away from Nolan, looking back to see that Mae’s legs are shaking and she’s wet herself. She wears fuzzy gray pajama pants with clouds on them that do nothing to hide the pee, which spreads, broadening and turning the gray shades darker.
“Close your eyes. Don’t look at that, Mae. Don’t look at him,” I snap as I go to her, pressing a hand down over Mae’s eyes and forcing her through the open door backward, shoving Cass, who stands behind her, out at the same time. Cass stumbles, tripping over the wooden threshold, managing to catch herself before she falls, sputtering, “What... what was that?What was he doing?What’s wrong with him?” her voice elevating in pitch until it’s screechy and thin.
Outside, I release Mae’s eyes. I grab both girls by the hands, telling them to hurry, though they’re paralyzed at first, fixed in place on the deck, their eyes stuck on Nolan’s body through the open door. I practically drag them down the steps, tugging them by the hands, saying, “He’s hurt, Cass. We have to get help,” as I try to keep my wits about me, though Nolan’s and Emily’s empty, lifeless eyes are there every time I blink. “We need to call for help. Hurry. Come on.”
We run down the hill for our cottage, slipping on pine cones and nuts, me clinging tightly to both girls’ clammy hands, pulling on them because their stride is narrower than mine, their pace slower. I throw a glance back over my shoulder, my eyes skimming the windows on the cottage, which are nearly impossible to see through because of the way the sunlight hits them. I imagine someone behind one, watching us go. I let my thoughts drift to Reese and Wyatt, Mae’s older sister and brother, racked with guilt. I think of the sound I heard standing in the foyer, like a mattress yielding to a person’s weight. What if they were up there? What if someone, whoever did this to Emily and Nolan, was up there too? I should have checked on them to see if they were safe, to see if there was something I could do to help.
But instead I run, pulling on the girls, saying, “Almost there. Keep running,” with a wildness to my voice from exertion and fear, assuaging my guilt at leaving by telling myself I have to save Cass and Mae. I can’t save all the kids at once. If I’d have gone to check on Reese and Wyatt, Cass and Mae would have been in danger. Someone might have hurt them, or worse. I pull so hard that Mae falls forward, landing on her hands and knees with a grunt. The slope of the hill is steep and her legs can’t keep up with the momentum. I release Cass’s hand, telling herto go on without us, to get inside. Our cottage sits at the base of the hill. It’s surrounded by a half dozen other cottages that sit close to one another, separated by trees that provide some privacy but not enough that we can’t smell each other’s food or listen in on each other’s conversations.
“Come on, Mae,” I say, going back for her, helping her to her feet.
It’s as Mae and I run after Cass, our little cottage a safe haven in the distance if only we can get there in time, that I glance back through the trees once more, letting my eyes run from the open front door to the upstairs windows, and this time, I imagine a pale, out-of-focus face looking out through a crack in the curtains on the other side.
Reese
Inside the cottage smells funky. The walls and floors are all wood. It’s dark and depressing as fuck, because of a lack of windows and a lack of actual lights. The furniture doesn’t match. A red plaid chair sits beside a mangy blue velvet recliner that’s seen better days. The sofa is a glorified futon. There are dead flies in the windowsills, an ant trap on the kitchen floor. The curtains are long and pleated, and I’d bet my life there are spiders living in the curtain folds, making spider eggs that will hatch one night while we’re asleep, filling the cottage with millions of spider babies.
