Things That Fall

by Mere Joyce

  Forrester shrugs. “No, not yet. But word gets around.” He ends the call to his voicemail and pockets the phone. “It’s a good offer. And nice that it’s quick. I’ll call the agent when I’m home and accept it.”

  “Just like that?” I ask, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I knew the cottage would be sold eventually. But while we’re all still standing within it? I thought we’d have a little more time — a little more distance before we had to say goodbye.

  “Yep, guess so,” Forrester sighs.

  We return to the business of cleaning, and in the space of a few minutes we’ve pushed everything out onto the back porch. Forrester does a final sweep of each floor before he joins us outside, the box containing Julie’s ashes held under one arm.

  “Well, that’s it, then,” he says, shutting the door behind him without another glance inside.

  “You’ll be back here, though,” Allison remarks, leaning against the porch door.

  “No, I won’t,” Forrester replies. He looks at us, his shoulders shrugging even before he speaks. “I’m leaving for a while. After I take Julie on her trip … I’m not coming home.”

  When we continue to wait for further explanation, Thomas takes up the narrative.

  “He’s coming with me,” the oldest of our group declares. “We’re going to leave later this week. Pack up, bring the canoe with us, travel while we figure things out.”

  “You’re not going anywhere for school? College or university or anything?” Eli asks, his eyes still trained on Forrester.

  “Not that it matters,” Forrester replies, “but I’m not even finished high school yet. Missing a couple of courses still. I’m eighteen, though … I don’t have to go back. Doesn’t bother me if I don’t finish. I can do that later, if I need to.”

  “You need to,” Hailey scolds. “You have to finish high school.”

  Forrester doesn’t seem convinced.

  “What I need is to get away from here,” he says.

  Hailey turns to Thomas with accusation in her eyes, and Thomas responds with a hard stare of his own.

  “School isn’t important for everyone, Hailey,” he says, his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans. “Some things matter more. Why should he stick around while a bank takes away his cottage? He doesn’t own anything, and he’ll be homeless by the end of the month. I don’t know if you remember, but his change in situation didn’t come with a warning. It’s not something he’s been preparing for.”

  “Shut up, Thomas,” Hailey snaps.

  Forrester intervenes before the two get overheated.

  “It’s okay, Hailey,” he says, his voice calm. “Thomas is right. I didn’t expect my dad to die. I didn’t want him to. I still don’t, and if he was alive, I would be glad to stay put and go back to school. But he’s not, and I can’t see spending day after day in a place I hate, trying to work part-time after classes to scrape by.”

  “But what about the money from the cottage?” Allison asks. “There will be enough from the sale to keep you going for a while.”

  Forrester shakes his head, the motion a surprise to us all.

  “I don’t get the money from the sale,” he admits. “At least not yet. Turns out, Dad had a plan … he was going to give me the cottage for my thirtieth birthday. The deed was in a trust fund. Now that he’s gone, whatever money is left over after the mortgage is paid will go in there instead. So, I’ll have a nice gift twelve years from now. In the meantime, I’m on my own. And that’s why I want to leave. If I go with Thomas, I can put distance between my dad and me. I might even go and visit my mom.”

  “So, you’re really leaving?” The question comes from Hailey, and after a second I realize it’s directed not at Forrester, but at Thomas. “Even with …”

  Thomas nods, leaving her words to sink away.

  “I’m going crazy here,” Thomas says.

  He’s not speaking to his brother, but nevertheless Nolan nods as well, their gestures identical. This must have been the ending Nolan suspected, even if it’s not the one he wants.

  Allison pushes herself away from the door and steps further out onto the porch. In the light of a momentary ray of sun, her blond hair appears almost white.

  “We shouldn’t spend any more time moping,” she says, her voice almost vacant. “We should enjoy the property until we’ve got to leave.”

  “That sounds good,” Forrester agrees.

  When he smiles, I think the expression’s genuine.

  I’m cold when we head down to the fire pit again. I can’t believe only yesterday my cousins were swimming in the bay. Today I doubt even Thomas would make such a dive. The breeze is so chilled it smells sharp like snow, and I wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow I woke up to find frost on the grass in our backyard.

  I suck up my discomfort, huddling into myself until the fire’s started and I can inch close to the flames.

  “What are we having for lunch, then?” Forrester asks, stoking the fire with expert ease.

  “S’mores,” Hailey says, grinning, already digging for supplies.

  “It’s way too early for s’mores,” Allison protests.

  Hailey shakes her head, her black braid flying.

  “It’s never too early for s’mores,” she replies. “And I didn’t get any last night. You don’t come to the cottage and not have s’mores.”

  “Agreed.”

  I smile, taking a bar of chocolate and ripping into the purple foil packaging.

  “The last s’mores,” Forrester says with a small chuckle. “And the last fire.”

  “Let’s make it a good one, eh?” Thomas nods.

  Not even Allison has anything to say against that. Hailey passes around the crackers and the marshmallows, and we each pick and choose our personal favorite chocolate to use. We compile our creations and argue over whether open-faced or two-cracker s’mores are the best. Eli doesn’t leave his first marshmallow in the fire long enough, and Forrester leaves his in until it catches bright with flame. Hailey gets chocolate all over her lips and doesn’t care. Nolan gets marshmallow stuck between his fingers and wipes the goo on his brother’s jeans.

  For the next hour, the final hour, we sit in the chairs we started this weekend in, eating and laughing and saying goodbye to the memories we’ll never again create here.

  Hailey

  WHILE WOLFING DOWN MY fourth not-regretting-a-moment s’more, I think about Forrester leaving with Thomas. I don’t like the idea of either of them being so far away from the rest of us. We just got them back, damn it. I can’t stand the thought of letting all this unravel again so soon.

  But I appreciate what Thomas is willing to do for his cousin. There are stories, folklore I’ve flipped through in the books I’ve started to collect, full of betrayal and comeuppance. People being cruel, and people being devoured by the wild for their cruelty. But there are stories, too, of families being strong, and of foundlings lost in the woods rescued by well-meaning wolves.

  Thomas isn’t a wolf. But Forrester is lost, and I’m glad he’s found someone to keep him company.

  “What are you going to do with everything left in the cottage?” Allison asks, looking at Forrester while she pulls gooey marshmallow from her twig and plops it in her mouth. “I mean, after the sale’s gone through,” she adds in a full-mouthed mumble.

  Forrester hunches his shoulders up and forward, the motion both defensive and careless.

  “Sell it all. Let the bank decide what to do with it.”

  “What about the painting?” Kayla asks.

  She sits close to the fire, trying to keep warm. The temperature has nosedived, the cold air nothing like the warmth of the rest of this month. The storm swept summer away, all right. I love it, but I’d be less enthusiastic if I didn’t have my shawl.

  Forrester’s surprised by her question. />
  “October Gold?” he asks.

  By the name I assume they’re talking about the painting in the basement. Kayla looked at it a lot last night and this morning. She must like it.

  Pictures of landscapes are okay, I guess, though I much prefer paintings of the night sky swirled with wind and speckled with stars. Still, the basement’s landscape caught my attention, too, even before we discovered Julie hiding in its backing. Reminded me of a picture in my parents’ room, except theirs is of a town, not the woods. I’m not sure why the two connected in my brain. Something familiar about the style, perhaps.

  “Is that what it’s called?” Kayla asks with a smile.

  “Yeah.” Forrester nods, before shaking hair from his dark eyes. “I only know because I saw the original on a field trip once. Most boring field trip I’ve ever been on, but cool to see the painting. I thought the name sucked, though. Spent the rest of the day trying to come up with a better one.”

  “And?”

  I quirk a brow and wait for his response, but he only laughs, the noise more breath than sound.

  “I didn’t come up with anything. That’s the day I realized I’m not a creative person.”

  “So, you’re just leaving everything behind?” Allison asks.

  She sticks another marshmallow on her twig and pokes it toward the fire. For arguing against the early sugar-invasion, Allison’s had twice as many marshmallows as anyone else.

  “Pretty much.” Forrester shrugs. “The bank will sell it, put whatever’s made into my account. There won’t be a lot, but at least I’ll have access to it now. It’ll be enough to help get me started. Whenever I decide what I want to start.”

  He’s quiet for a minute, watching as Runner and Star play near the docks. Star’s going to need a serious grooming session once we’re home. I’m dreading the ride back. My car’s going to reek of mud and wet dog for days.

  “Do you want the painting, Kayla?” Forrester continues once Runner’s circled Star twice, bolted away, and has flopped down on his stomach waiting for her to catch up with his long strides.

  “Seriously?” Kayla asks, her face bright. “I’d love it. If you don’t mind not getting the money for it.”

  Forrester smiles.

  “The bank won’t get anything close to its worth, anyway,” he says. “It’s yours. I’ll make sure it’s sent to you once the place has sold.” He looks up at the cottage now locked away from us. “I guess it won’t be long.”

  I follow his gaze and let my eyes sweep up to the attic, where Julie was tucked away for years, forgotten by everyone but Simon. Stories of rescued foundlings are nice, but the reality for those lost or defenseless is usually far grimmer.

  Forrester has found someone to take him in, but Julie never did. She couldn’t have had it easy, being surrounded by her half-brothers, so close to a family she couldn’t really call her own. I have no reason to believe Julie was anything other than gentle. I doubt she was capable of deception or cruelty. But in the end, she was left on her own, kept at a distance until she was dead and supposedly buried far from those who shared her blood.

  The s’mores congeal at the base of my throat as I stare at the attic window. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I have this weird thing about places being haunted. A spirit isn’t needed to make somewhere foreboding. All I have to do is look at the way my mother cringes when she hears talk of a reservation to know that.

  My soul aches for Julie, for the others like her, and for those treated far worse. I remember the hours I spent volunteering at the care facility, how disgusted I could sometimes be by the families who only pretended to care and the ones who didn’t even bother to do that. The world is full of love, but it’s also full of hate, and most disturbing of all is the abundance of indifference. My mother went through pain, but at least the pain taught her how to work hard to create a new life where pain is kept to a minimum. She holds hate in her bones, but at least when she smiles over her morning coffee as she watches my siblings getting ready for school, I know her happiness is real.

  Fuck. Never before has it occurred to me that, in some sick and twisted way, my mother is one of the lucky ones. She had the option of running away from the horror. She was capable of getting up, opening her front door, and leaving it all behind.

  People like Julie don’t have that option. Not everyone has the same ability. Some are too selfish — or selfless — to risk the unknown and go. Some aren’t brave enough or strong enough to even make the decision to leave. And some simply don’t have the physical, emotional, or mental capability to escape.

  I breathe in the cold air and try not to throw up, my no-regret lunch now taunting me with a heavy sweetness sinking hard into my stomach. I can’t look at the cottage anymore. Inside those walls exists a family, one alive and whole and happy. Out here, a brother and a sister are dead. Nothing is whole, and I’m so full of the wrongness of life I want to scream and kick and give every single asshole I can find a personal “fuck you.”

  The time has come for me to go home. I’m tired, and there’s a shitload of work I still need to do — starting with talking to my mother. I’ve never been grateful for the pain she endured to give me a happy life. But at the same time, she doesn’t understand the pain she’s inflicted by denying me the chance to know my own heritage. The Hacher family was nearly destroyed by secrets and silence. I can’t let that happen to the other half of my lineage, too. Fear be damned. I need to learn at least a little about the life my mother used to lead. And I need her to hear — without yelling or cursing or slamming of doors — why my identity will never be as one-sided as hers.

  So, we’ll talk. And when that is over, I will write my professor and make arrangements for the trip I’ve been too scared to take. Then I will mourn my aunt and use her memory to bolster my drive as I start making a better mark upon this shitty world.

  Eli

  Hailey’s the first to suggest

  leaving.

  I assumed she’d stay till the end, but in a few short minutes

  her attitude changes from easy

  to impatient.

  Something freaked her out, but I’m not sure what.

  Not that I mind.

  Dad’s not here yet, but I’m not waiting for Ali to leave before

  I head off.

  I want to get home

  with plenty of time to talk to Mom.

  Ali would kill me if she knew what I was planning.

  But I have new truths to live with,

  new memories to sort in my mind.

  I still don’t know why Dad yelled,

  why Mom cried,

  why they were both so miserable in the half-remembered

  vision

  Julie brought to light.

  But I understand she was the reason,

  and I can’t let the same thing happen to my future,

  can’t cause the family I may someday have

  the same kind of suffering.

  Which is why Mom and I

  need to have a conversation

  before Ali gets home

  and gets in my way.

  I should have been the first to leave.

  Everyone would have expected as much.

  I don’t know why I hesitated

  until Hailey moved toward the cars,

  calling her dog

  and hauling her stuff into the back seat.

  I’ve been looking forward to getting home all weekend.

  So why am I lingering still,

  taking my time getting my things put away,

  hanging around while Hailey hugs us all?

  I should go.

  I should get in the car

  and go.

  But I don’t.

  I wait my turn

  to hug Hailey,

  too.<
br />
  Fuck, what am I turning into?

  Looks like I’m going to

  miss these people,

  after all.

  Kayla

  “DO YOU WANT TO get together next weekend?” Hailey asks as she hugs me tight. The question’s unexpected, but it floods me with something like relief.

  “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

  I smile, breathing in the eucalyptus scent of her hair, the smell already a memory of its own.

  Hailey moves from me to Nolan, pulling him to her in a bear hug of an embrace. “How about you, want to join us?”

  Nolan laughs, giving in to the hug for a second or two before extracting himself.

  “No, thanks,” he answers. “I’ve got plans.”

  Hailey smirks, nudging Nolan with her elbow.

  “Yeah, so when am I going to meet him?” she asks.

  Nolan’s eyebrows shoot up beyond his fringe of hair, his cheeks tinging with pink.

  “Uh, never?” he replies, embarrassed worry already in his words.

  Hailey’s good at being a big sister. With a look and a nudge, she’s instilled more sibling terror than Thomas has provided all weekend. She’s also managed to keep things peaceful, even though Nolan has every right to glower and storm away from her. I’m impressed she’s so casual about what happened last night, and I’m astonished he is, too. More than anything, I’m happy they’re not letting it be an excuse to keep their distance. Eli was wrong. We do learn from our parents’ mistakes, at least some of the time.

  “Oh, come on, what are you afraid of?” Hailey asks, fully aware of Nolan’s discomfort and teasing him all the more for it. “What, is he hideously ugly or something?”

  “Oh no, Brandon’s gorgeous,” Thomas says.

  He slides behind Nolan, throwing an arm around his shoulder. Nolan’s skin goes from pink to red in half a second flat, and I have to retract my thoughts about Thomas not embarrassing his little brother.

  “Thomas!” Nolan groans, shrinking away from his arm.

  Thomas grins, reaching up to ruffle his brother’s hair.

  “What? I may not be attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his looks.”