by Marie Snow
“You a snowbird or settling down here?” she asked, and I frowned, feeling my brow crease in confusion.
I’d been called many things in my past, but snowbird wasn’t one. Stillwake, although part of a larger city, was intimate. I might not have known my father, but the town sure did, and they didn’t let me forget it. Some called my father a hero. Some believed that he was a killer and my mother covered for him. There was always talk. I never asked my mom for details. I didn’t figure that was a conversation either of us truly wanted to have. But regardless, the town called me a variety of names both before I went into the hospital and especially after I got out.
“A what?”
“A snowbird?” I nodded at her question. “That’s what we call out-of-owners that come here for the winter months,” she explained.
“Not passing through. We just moved to Liar’s Island. We’re renting a place out on Swallow Lane, right by a lake.”
She nodded as if she knew exactly where I was talking about. “Nice neighborhood. I clean houses there sometimes,” she said as the pump kicked off.
“You work here and clean houses?” I asked as she replaced the nozzle.
“I work here but help my mom on the weekends when she cleans,” she replied carelessly. “That’s thirty-two dollars.”
I dug out my wallet and handed her the money.
“That’s a lot of working for one person,” I pointed out needlessly and realized this was the most conversation I’d had with anyone in a long time. But with her, it came effortlessly. I actually… enjoyed it..
“Got things I want in life and can’t afford school, so work is all I got.” She shrugged when she said that.
I found her answer direct and frank in a way I hadn’t really seen from another person before. I liked it. My entire life people avoided things around me or tried to make it prettier—nicer than it was. They were afraid of me and how I’d react. But this girl was a breath of fresh air.
“Good to have a plan.” I pushed away from the car, and I tried to figure out if I could get away with driving around the island for a couple more hours before I had to pick up my mother.
“You have a name, Snowbird?”
I shook my head, but it wasn’t in response to her question. I resisted the urge to laugh. Something about this girl made me feel better—even if I didn’t know why. It truly confused the hell out of me.
“Matthew Landry,” I muttered.
“Hey, Matthew. I’m Jenny Kyle,” she said as she held out her hand to me.
I stared at it for a minute. I knew that I probably looked like I was an idiot and seemed awkward as hell. Jenny had no idea that I didn’t touch people or like to be touched. She couldn’t know that I hadn’t touched another person voluntarily since Sofie… not once, not even my own mother.
Clenching my teeth, I reached out and took her hand in mine, which surprised me further.
“Do you know where a snowbird that’s not really a snowbird might find a job around here?” I asked, letting my hand slip from hers and curling my fingers into my palms. I noted the surprise that registered on her face, but it was quickly replaced with a smile.
“You need a job?” I nodded. “Come on inside. I’ll let you meet my boss. Pretty sure I can hook you up.” And then she was leading the way, and for a second I just stood there, feeling this tightness in my chest.
I shook off the feeling and followed her inside, and as I did, I regretted taking Jenny Kyle’s hand almost as much as I regretted asking her boss for a job.
3
Michelle
I stood in the center of the greenhouse and closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of flowers and dirt… of life.
It had been a long time since I’d felt a modicum of peace, but as I felt that thick humidity press down on me, felt the rays of the sun come through the domed roof above, and was surrounded by things that reminded me of the man I’d once loved, it felt like I did feel a sliver of contentment fill me.
“Excuse me?”
I opened my eyes and turned and faced the customer who’d called out to get my attention. I smoothed my hands over the green apron I wore, Eco-Island Landscaping embroidered on the top left-hand corner.
“Do you know anything about these?”
I walked up to the older woman and looked down at the plant in reference. I wasn’t an expert in all things plants, but I knew enough about them after years of working in a few landscaping and gardening businesses. I was definitely educated enough to help her.
“These are called String of Dolphins. They are on the rare scale for the greenhouse, so you’re looking at them being a little more costly, but they are relatively easy to care for. I personally think it’s one of the more underrated, beautiful selections.” I picked up the little pot, this particular one as tiny as it was pretty.
I spoke with her a bit more about it, relaxing even more as I felt in my element. Once she took her plant up to the counter to purchase it, I went over to the potting station and started transferring seedlings into bigger containers.
I glanced up and was able to see part of the outside of Eco-Island Landscaping. Not only did they have a greenhouse to grow their own plants, but they offered professional landscaping services with said homegrown plants. It was a one-stop place for Liar’s Island residents.
I could see the rockface signage right out front, the manicured lawn surrounding it, and the perfectly placed flowers and shrubs purposely planted in eye-catching patterns and designs. It was possible that it hadn’t been such a great idea working at a place like this, one that had me drowning in memories from Stillwake.
Maybe I was just a glutton for punishment.
Before I knew it, the hours passed, and my workday was coming to an end. I checked my watch, knowing Matthew would already be waiting outside for me.
After taking off my apron, hanging it up, and saying goodbye to the employees I passed, I grabbed my purse and light jacket and headed outside. But I didn’t see my Prius, which had my brows pulling down low and confusion setting in.
I looked at my watch again, knowing Matthew should’ve been here by now. But maybe he got a job and got held up? That had a little bit of hope rising in me, knowing that my son needed this for socialization and his mental well-being.
I walked over to the little bench that sat between two flowering bushes, and took a seat, pulling out my cell phone. I contemplated calling him, but decided I’d give him a few minutes, preferring not to have him distracted while driving, especially in this new area.
So, I just sat there and looked around, feeling the breeze on my face, the sun warming my skin. The minutes started dragging by, and the longer I waited, the more time passed where Matthew wasn’t here, the more worried I became. It shouldn’t have taken this long. The island wasn’t that big, and aside from job searching, he’d had no plans.
His schedule was pretty on track, precise even. He’d always been on time to appointments, not even a minute late. It was part of his personality, almost an obsessive quality.
I grabbed my cell phone again and looked at the time. Twenty minutes had passed since I’d gotten off work. I dialed his number, putting the phone to my ear and listening to it ring. But once voicemail kicked on, my heart started pounding a little bit harder, that worry and concern mixing together until I was drowning in it.
I stood and started pacing, calling his phone back-to-back, worrying my bottom lip, and feeling my fingers tighten over the cell hard enough I wondered if I was able to break it.
And just as I was about to call him once more I saw my Prius pull into the parking lot. I breathed a sigh of relief and shoved my cell in my purse, that worry starting to fade, only to be replaced with annoyance and anger.
He pulled the car up to stop at the curb. I opened the passenger side door, sliding in and shutting it behind me, the silence thick.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said right away, and I looked at him.
“I tried calling.” I said matter-of-fa
ctly, my voice a little harsh and curt. His brows furrowed and he shifted on the seat so he could reach for his cell that was shoved in the front pocket of his jeans. He looked down at it and then showed it to me.
“The battery must’ve died.” He set his cell in the center console and put the car in drive, pulling away from the curb and back toward our place.
We were silent for long moments, but I felt something was off, different with Matthew. I looked at his profile, this almost easiness seemed to have overtaken him.
Him. No, not an easiness, but as if he wasn’t weighed down as much as he had been.
“I got a job,” he finally said, breaking up the silence.
Ah, so that had to be it. “That’s great, Matthew. Where at?”
“Kelly’s gas station. Jenny, the girl who pumped my gas, was able to get me a job. I don’t even think they were hiring, but she’s close with the owner.”
I felt my forehead furrow at the way his tone changed when he spoke about this Jenny girl.
“I start this weekend. I got a good feeling about Jenny and the owner, so I hope it’s a good fit,” he said that last part as if he were trying to convince himself of that fact.
“We’ll see,” I murmured and looked out the passenger window. “You don’t have to make anything permanent. If it doesn’t end up feeling right, there’s always other avenues.” I felt him glance at me but kept staring out the window.
“Yeah,” he said softly, and we were plunged into silence again.
I could have chalked up the change in his voice when he brought up Jenny to the fact she was new to him and he’d obviously felt comfortable enough around her to have an obvious conversation about getting a job. He’d been in the hospital for years, isolated himself, pulled away from people. All of this was new and exciting. But I couldn’t help that tingling feeling in the back of my neck.
I looked at my son again. I didn’t want him to go down that same path where his heart was ripped from him in the worst possible way. I didn’t want another Sofie situation where it broke him in two.
I was his mother and I had to protect him. I needed to always be there for him. He was all I had.
4
Matthew
“Here’s your medicine, Matthew.”
I’d been lying on the bed in my room staring out the window when my mother came in, glass of water in one hand, my drugs in the other. But I didn’t focus on anything but what was happening outside the window. There were some people on a pontoon out on the lake. I couldn’t see a lot because it was dark outside, but I did see the lights strung along the side of the vessel, watched as they reflected and glimmered in the water. I couldn’t hear, but I imagined they were laughing and carefree.
What would that feel like?
I’d never had it. Not really. Maybe I’d experienced something like that with Sofie. But now that I thought about it, it never felt… authentic. I’d always felt this heavy weight on me, even as a child.
My gaze moved back from the water to the shadows moving around on the boat. There must have been at least four people aboard the pontoon. They were probably friends, close family. That’s something else I’d never had. All I’d ever had was my mother. I’d both loved and hated her for that.
“Did you hear me, Matthew?”
I turned my attention, regretfully, back to my mother.
“I thought the doctor said I didn’t need the medicine unless I began having the blackouts again.” I didn’t phrase it like a question because we both knew that's exactly what had been said.
“This is just to help keep you calm so that we can try and prevent those episodes from happening in the first place, Matthew.”
I felt this bitterness welling inside of me, but I swallowed it down. All I had was my mom. I’d put her through hell. I was horrible for resenting her.
And yet I did.
“Put it on the nightstand. I’ll take it before I go to bed,” I told her, my gaze already turning back to the boat.
“Matthew,” she replied, a warning tone to her voice that I hated so deeply it made acid churn in my stomach each time I heard it.
“I said I would take it before I went to bed,” I barked, and it felt like my skin crawled, akin to the sensations that I always got right before a panic attack.
Earlier today, I had felt like I could at least pretend to be normal around Jenny. I thought I could fake it and have people think I could be normal.
“Take it now so that I don’t have that worry. You can’t work and create a life for yourself if you don’t apply yourself, Matthew.”
“It’s my life, Mother,” I replied.
“I’ve dedicated my life to making sure that you could stand on your own two feet, son. I’ve put you before everything, even my own life. Don’t you think you owe it to both of us to help me?”
There was so much I wanted to say in response, but instead I grabbed the small plastic cup she put my medicine in and swallowed it down. I didn’t bother grabbing the glass of water. I put the cup back on the end table and I frowned.
My mother had purchased the clear small cups like my nurses used to deliver medication in the hospital.
Who does that?
A sense of desperation swarmed me in that moment. I was trapped. I’d always been trapped. My body and my mind worked together to make me a prisoner.
And my mother?
She was my warden.
“There,” I muttered, and for good measure I held my mouth open and lifted my tongue so she could see that I had swallowed the medicine… just like the nurses made me do at the mental hospital.
“You don’t have to be like that, Matthew. It’s not like I take pleasure in this. I’m not the enemy. Surely you know that by now.”
Mom’s voice sounded so defeated that regret and guilt hit me quickly.
“I know that,” I responded dutifully.
“Get some rest, Matthew. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, and the light above went out when she clicked off the switch.
“Goodnight, Mom,” I answered in the darkness, but my gaze had already moved to the window. Outside they were still on the boat, still happy.
They were living. I wasn’t. But I wanted to. Once, I thought I could. Sofie brought that out of me. She paid the cost and what did I give her in return? Nothing. Because I couldn’t even remember what happened to her.
Every muscle in my body strained to focus on the lights that shined in the lake, the beams swayed and refracted as the waves moved. I wanted to stay awake and watch the lights. I wanted to pretend I was there with them, being normal, maybe even laughing.
Instead, the darkness claimed me as the medicine eventually pulled me under. I was helpless.
I always was.
5
Michelle
I’d seen the look of resentment in my son’s eyes, and the level of pain that gave me had me lifting my hand and rubbing the center of my chest. He was all I had, but when he looked at me like that, a part of me felt the burden of having a child who was mentally unstable, who’d been deemed a risk to himself and to society, which was why he’d been locked away in the first place.
All his life I’d been coddling him, keeping him close, always seeing my little baby who’d looked up at me with bright blue eyes full of wonder. The change hadn’t been something massive or alerting where it knocked me on my ass. It had been gradual, slowly shifting the little human I’d carried in my womb for nine months to someone who held so much darkness in their being that it sucked the air from a room.
I sat down on the glider that was situated on the little porch out back. The view was beautiful, with the lake in front of me, the sprawling grass stretched out to the water’s edge. The moon was high, the silvery glow casting light along the water, accenting the pontoon boat situated in the center of the lake. There were lights strung along the side, reminding me of what college kids might do to “spice things up” and make it a party boat.
I could imagine young kids out
there drinking and laughing, having the time of their lives, not having to worry about anything other than what was due for their next college class, or where they wanted to eat next weekend.
I felt another twinge of pain that Matthew hadn’t experienced any of that. He might have if things had worked out with Sofie, or he’d have thought he’d have that. I never thought she was the right fit for him. She’d been controlling, wanting things her way, wanting to steer Matthew along with her. I’d always gotten the sense she saw my son as an accessory.
Then the murder happened. When the body was found, Matthew in such a delirious state that he hadn’t known what was up from down. He’d been hysterical, and when they’d interrogated him, when he couldn’t answer the questions clearly, his ramblings sounding like they came from a mad man, it had almost been a closed case.
Did I believe my son was capable of killing his girlfriend?
I brought my wine glass to my mouth and took a long drink.
Maybe if his father hadn't been who he was that answer would have been easy, but given genetics, and how Matthew had done questionable and frightening actions as a child, I didn't know what the truth was. I was afraid to trust Matthew. I guess that’s what it all boiled down to.
I supposed anyone was capable of killing another human being and coupled with the right amount of damaged DNA… it could turn the sanest person a little insane.
My mind was in turmoil, then again when hadn’t it been? For over two decades, I’d been living on a tightrope of uncertainty, trauma and pain.
I leaned back in the swing and brought the glass of wine to my lips. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, but with the moving, the new job, and all the stuff going on with Matthew, sitting out here in the quiet with some alcohol seemed like just what I needed.