Chapter 44
By the time they got home the air was so oppressively heavy it dragged the sky closer to the ground, a blanket of gray cloud trapping in the endless heat and running it through with damp.
When Anna had gotten out of Mom’s car, the pressure was so bad she thought her ears might pop.
It was like walking through sludge. Somewhere in the distance thunder had gently rumbled an answer to some other town’s prayers, but not theirs, and by the time Mom served up dinner, the pressure was filling the house too.
Every mouthful stuck in Anna’s throat. It was obvious Mom was hurt that Lucas hadn’t shown up, and Anna knew her threat against him had made him ghost Mom. She didn’t feel bad about that—she didn’t want him in this house ever again—but seeing Mom upset was like a rat in her guts.
They were at the kitchen table, eating quietly, the occasional clink of cutlery against crockery cutting into the silences between bites of struggling conversation now that Caroline had said all she could about the baby calf, and they had surrendered to the awkwardness.
Mom had drunk half the bottle of expensive red wine she’d obviously bought thinking Lucas would be eating with them.
As Anna watched she poured herself some more, chirping on about the hospital and TV shows she’d been watching as if nothing were wrong, but the tell was in the way she’d kept her phone close by and kept glancing down at it.
When did Mom become so easily broken? A man she barely knew had walked away after one date and she looked as if she might shatter.
Any exhilaration Anna had felt when she’d dealt with Lucas was gone.
The carbonara tasted sour in her mouth. The bacon was too salty.
The egg and cream cloying. Everything too much, her greasy guilt refusing to allow her the pleasure of the meal.
“Can I go upstairs, please?” Caroline asked, hopeful. “I have homework.”
Mom nodded, and Caroline was away like a bullet. Anna figured that was the cue for them all to disappear to their corners of the house.
“That was lovely, Mom.” She got to her feet and picked up her plate and the empty dish. “I’ll take the trash out. It’s collection tomorrow.”
“Great,” Mom said. “That’s great.” Her smile was too big. Abandoned. Anna couldn’t look at her. Lucas was a creep and had to go, but that didn’t make her feel any better about what she’d done. Why did Mom’s pain have to be so bright?
She grabbed the trash bags from the kitchen and threw them in the carts outside before wheeling them down to the edge of the road.
She lit a cigarette and stared into the quiet, trying to let the tensions of the day go.
She didn’t want to think of the blood in the basement.
Of the sheriff questioning Lucas. Of Mom’s hurt.
Caroline’s period. Dead girls. The thing.
It was all knotting together, becoming one bloody mess tangled inside her.
She had to think clearly. This article wasn’t about her.
It was about the town. The murders. Grief.
The sun burned red and orange into the horizon as it dropped, cutting slashes of deep color across the sky as if the whole universe were ablaze.
The nights were suffocatingly dark here, but the sunsets could be glorious.
Almost enough to make her believe in Grandma’s god.
In a divine purpose. They made her feel small, and somehow that made her feel safe.
She thought of Jamie, who’d probably sat outside his pathetic room in the abandoned motel and watched these sunsets, alone and high.
Thinking of Lila. Neither of them would ever see a sunset again, and the thought of Jamie dead made her want to cry, which was stupid, because he was a stranger.
She smoked harder and headed back to the porch, where she stubbed the butt out and tossed it into the empty tin can. It was nearly full again, butts smoked down to the edge of the filter. She was sure she’d only emptied it a couple of days ago. Maybe Grandma wasn’t the only one losing her mind.
When she came back inside, she helped Mom with washing up, noting that she’d kept her phone on the drainboard just in case Lucas messaged, and they worked together in what would have been an easy silence if it weren’t for the weight of the secrets between them.
“I’m going to my room.” Grandma peered into the kitchen. “If you could bring me a glass of water, Claire, dear, that would be wonderful.” Grandma had a way of phrasing things politely, but her tone was definitely a command.
“Sure.”
“Grandma said the police were here?” Mom said.
Anna’s heart thumped, but she shrugged, feigning confusion. “Not as far as I know.” She let her hair hang over her face as she dried the pasta pot, knowing that Grandma had probably heard her response.
“She said something about the basement?”
“I think maybe she had a turn.”
“Yeah. I wondered if that was it.” She pulled the plug, letting the water drain out, before turning to Anna with a surprisingly warm smile. “Thank you for taking Caroline to that farm today. That was very sweet of you. She adores you, you know. She’s still a little kid.”
“Not such a little kid. She got her period today. At the farm.”
“Oh, Christ.” Mom leaned back against the sink. “I’ll go talk to her. Can you do Grandma?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.” Without warning, Mom gave her a brief hug and kissed her forehead.
“I’m proud of you, Anna, I really am.” By the time Anna had recovered from the shock of it—physical contact was not something they had done much of since the thing—Mom was gone, and Anna was left with her gnawing guilt and a pang for the time she would have hugged her mother back.