13. Friday, October 13, 2023
Alice
Alice pauses on the back deck to take in the landscape.
As the sun begins to set, the treetops look like they’re on fire with their orange and red leaves.
It’s truly breathtaking, Alice thinks, as a shower of colorful leaves rains down around her in slow motion, dislodged by the breeze.
The place is finally starting to feel like home.
There hasn’t been an incident in two weeks—no dead animals, no one getting lost in the woods, no wolf sightings—and the kids are doing well and so are she and Geoff.
For the first time in over a year she feels like they’re all going to be okay.
She makes her way to her mother’s cabin, taking pleasure in the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot.
Through the screen door she can see that her mother is cleaning paintbrushes at the sink.
“Mom? Can I come in?” she asks through the door.
A learned habit from childhood. If you see a paintbrush in my hand, do not come in the room, her mother used to tell her.
“Yes, dear,” she calls back over her shoulder. “I’m just finishing up.”
Alice has to yank on the screen door to get it open. “That door’s a bit annoying,” she says, stepping inside.
“It is.” Beverley turns away from the sink, wiping her hands on her painting apron. “It doesn’t shut on its own. You have to pull it, but then it’s hard to get unstuck when you want to open it again. I’m worried one of the cats will get out if it’s not shut properly.”
“I can have Geoff look at it,” Alice offers.
Beverley waves a hand dismissively. “Next year, when the weather gets warm again. I only had the main door open today because of the paint fumes. They’re much stronger in such a small space.”
Alice ignores the size comment. “Did you remember that Geoff and I are having a date night tonight? So, it’s just you and the kids for dinner.”
“How romantic,” Beverley replies, and Alice thinks she detects jealousy in her voice. “You two certainly are lovey-dovey lately. I hope it lasts.”
And there it is, Alice thinks. “I don’t think it’s just a phase, Mom,” she explains, trying not to sound defensive.
Beverley holds up both hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
You meant everything by it, Alice thinks. “Anyway, I just threw together a pesto pasta and a salad for you and the kids.”
“Lovely, dear,” her mother says, lifting the apron over her head to hang on a hook. “Would you like some help getting ready?”
Alice glances down at the dark jeans and flowy black blouse that she chose for the night. “I am ready.”
“Oh, well,” her mother says, looking her up and down. “What about adding a bit of color to the ensemble? Or at the very least some color on your lips. You’re looking a bit tired. You have no idea how a nice bright pink can refresh you.”
“I’m not you, Mom.”
Her mother trills. “No one would accuse you of that, my dear.”
Alice turns to leave. She’s had enough of her mother’s judgment. “I better go, Geoff’s waiting for me.”
“Yes, of course. Should I sneak Geoff some money before you go so that he can pick up the check?”
It takes all of Alice’s restraint not to turn around and tell her to fuck off.
She slips through the screen door without a word. Just once she’d like to have an exchange with her mother that didn’t leave her feeling ugly and inadequate. Is that really so much to ask, she wonders. “Why don’t you go get lost in the woods, and stay there,” she mumbles.
She goes around the side of the house to meet Geoff at the car, so that the kids don’t rope her into one last thing they need. As she’s passing Polly’s window, she hears movement in the woods beside her and stops. It sounded like something big, as big as a person.
Without thinking, she rushes into the trees, sure she’s going to find the predator who made those footprints, who carved that thing into the tree and then somehow made it disappear.
Her heart is racing as she scans the landscape.
“Hello?” she calls out when she doesn’t see anyone.
“I know you’re there.” She stands still to listen, every muscle in her body tensed, but all she hears is the wind through the trees.
Whatever made that noise is either hiding or gone.
“What are you doing?” Geoff’s voice startles her. He’s standing at the edge of the woods, looking in at her.
“I heard something,” she answers. “It sounded big, like a person.”
“There’s nothing in there.”
“How can you be so sure?” Alice asks. “I definitely heard something.”
“Are you okay, sweetie?” He’s looking at her with honest concern, and she can’t remember the last time he called her that. He must be seriously worried about her. She can’t really blame him; twice now she’s come in here claiming that something is here that isn’t. Maybe she is losing her mind.
She forces a laugh and starts toward him. “I’m fine. Honestly. It was probably just a squirrel or something, but I thought I’d check. No big deal.”
He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, letting him lead her out of the trees.
Beverley
She can tell Alice is annoyed at her, but her daughter is too sensitive.
Her whole generation is too sensitive. Beverley just tells it like it is, so how is she the bad guy?
Going into the bathroom, she touches up her lipstick, something Alice should do more of.
It may only be a dinner with her grandchildren, but she still wants to look presentable.
In her kitchen, she debates whether to make herself a cocktail to take with her, or drink Alice’s wine instead.
She decides to save the cocktail for later and drink the wine.
“Bye, my lovelies,” she says, scanning the room for her cats as she heads for the door.
Flame, her calico, is there on the chair with Dusty, the gray one, curled up beside her.
Soot, her deaf black cat, is nowhere in sight.
She glances to the screen door and, with dismay, sees that it’s partially open.
Alice must not have pulled it tight when she left.
She curses her under her breath. Pushing the door fully open she catches sight of the cat out on the lawn, sniffing his way toward the woods.
The sun has almost set, and deep shadow is spreading across the back lawn.
“Goddammit!” Of all the cats to get out, he can’t hear her call. She’s just down the steps of the cabin porch when Polly pops her head out the back door of the house.
“Dinner’s ready, Nana.”
Beverley waves to show she’s heard her. “Okay, give me a minute. Soot got out and I just need to get him back inside.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, too many people will scare him. I’ll sneak up and grab him, won’t be a minute.”
Polly shrugs and stays by the door, watching.
Beverley tiptoes up behind the cat. She’s sure she’s got him, but then he bounds forward, putting more distance between them.
“Actually, Polly,” she calls out, “can you open a can of tuna and bring it to me? He’ll be drawn by the scent. I can’t let him go into the woods or I’ll never get him back.”
Polly ducks back inside and Beverley feels a flash of gratitude for her.
She’s not a bad girl really, just a bit self-centered and sneaky.
She moves cautiously to try to close in on the cat, but the array of scents pulls him in all different directions.
Soot is now only a few feet away from the opening in the trees.
Beverley looks back at the house, hoping to see Polly appear with that can of tuna.
Her gratitude quickly turns to annoyance. How hard is it to open a can of tuna?
Beverley gets down low and creeps toward the cat, close enough to touch the tip of his black tail, but then he’s off again, running full-speed into the woods. She cries out in frustration. She straightens up to follow and jogs as fast as her creaky knees will allow.
“Kitty,” she calls out, even though he’s as deaf as they come. She moves farther along the path, deeper into the trees, scanning the landscape wondering how she’s ever going to find him.
She’s ready to go back and get the tuna herself when she hears a meow. It’s faint, coming from up ahead, but she’s sure she heard it. Then again, louder this time. She quickens her pace, though the woods are unfamiliar and the ground is uneven.
Her foot catches on something and she pitches forward, landing hard on the ground, face-down.
She stays there for a few seconds, waiting for the wind that was knocked out of her to return.
She listens for more meows, but there’s only deep, unnerving silence.
Woods should not be this quiet, she thinks.
Putting both hands on the ground to push herself back up, she stops short when she feels a cool hand on the back of her neck holding her in place.
Polly
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the can opener,” she calls out as soon as she’s got the back door open, but her nana isn’t there. Polly looks across the lawn and thinks she sees a flash of yellow disappear into the woods. Her nana was wearing a yellow sweater, wasn’t she?
She calls out to Quinn, who’s in the kitchen behind her. “Come on. Nana’s gone into the woods looking for Soot. We should help her.”
Surprisingly, Quinn abandons his pasta and hops up without a fight.
The two of them jog across the lawn and through the opening in the trees but stop short.
It’s dark in there—night comes earlier amongst the trees.
Polly doesn’t see any more flashes of yellow.
They both call out for her and listen, too afraid to go any farther.
“What should we do?” Polly asks, secretly hoping that he doesn’t suggest going deeper.
“I have an idea,” Quinn says, turning back in the direction of the house. “I’ll get my drone and fly it above the trees and see if we can spot her that way.”
“Okay. Hurry. It’s almost dark.” He takes off, leaving her alone in the woods. She hears the sound of a branch cracking just up ahead. “Nana?” she calls out. “Are you there?” The wind picks up, moving through the trees, making a hissing noise in the dry leaves.