by J. Bengtsson
Casey shook her head, clearly impressed. “Oh, man, Syd’s good.”
“Then she went in for the kill, telling me fumigators were going to have to come over and ‘tent my head’ before I’d be let out of quarantine. Yeah, so, long story short, that’s why I have no beard.”
“Oh, my god, that’s awesome. I love that girl,” Casey said through a bout of laughter, before catching my disapproving reaction. “I mean, oh, no, Jake, that’s terrible.”
“Thanks for your support.” I grinned.
“But you know, babe, it really is your own fault. You can’t let her win like that.”
“It’s not like I’m trying. She’s just got me wrapped around her finger.”
“Imagine what it’s going to be like when Lily gets old enough to manipulate you. You’ll be like a cube of butter left a second too long in the microwave.”
“I know. I’m doomed. At least I have the boys to level it out.”
“Ah, the boys miss their daddy so much. I miss their daddy so much. I just can’t wait for this whole thing to be over.”
“Me too. It’s weird – even though I see you guys through the window every day, I miss you more now than I do on tour.”
“This whole thing is weird. I hate that I can’t be with you – that I can’t kiss you. I hate that I can’t fly home to Arizona to see my parents. I worry about you. I worry about them. It’s exhausting.”
“How are Linda and Dave?”
“They’re doing okay. Staying inside for the most part. But Sydney and Riley are bored, and homeschooling is a challenge. You think you have problems with that girl? Imagine trying to help her with algebra.”
“Dave’s probably spending a lot of time in the bathroom right about now.”
Casey nodded. “I’m sure.”
“Speaking of the Caldwells,” I said, “I talked to Luke yesterday. Business is booming. I swear, this has to be the only time in the history of the world when being a generator salesman is a good thing.”
“I know. He can’t keep up with the orders.”
“I seriously think people have confused the coronavirus with a zombie apocalypse. They’re preparing their doomsday bunkers.”
“Maybe they’re on to something,” she said, attempting a half-hearted smile.
I could feel a heaviness coming off Casey, and that worried me. “You okay?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Yeah. I’m just feeling off, I guess.”
“Talk to me.”
“I have this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know we’re apart when you travel, but somehow this feels different. Ominous. I’ve been…” she hesitated before turning away from the screen.
“You’ve been what, Case?”
“It’s nothing. I’ve just been having nightmares.”
A chill rushed through me. “About what? The kids?”
“No, Jake, about you… not coming home to us.”
And then it hit me – the weight of what she was saying. “You’re having dreams about me dying?”
Her silence was my answer. And although that was the last thing I wanted to hear when I was sick with a potentially deadly virus, I needed to know what was going through her head and how she was coping.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Casey, just tell me.”
Our eyes connected, and I waited.
“We’re at your funeral,” she began, her voice barely audible. “The kids… they’re all lined up. Lily is wearing your baseball cap, the one she loves to steal off your head. Miles is standing there, his bottom lip quivering. He’s trying to be so brave for you. And Slater, he’s just completely lost it, screaming for his daddy. It’s awful. Everyone is crying… but not me. My fists are clenched, and I’m just furious. That isn’t how our love story was supposed to end, you know? We fought so hard to be together, and now that we have it all, it’s ripped away from us forever.”
“It’s just a nightmare. Why are you giving it any weight at all?”
“Because it’s playing into all my deepest fears.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I consoled her. “If there’s anyone more uniquely qualified to survive this thing, please point him out.”
“I know you're a survivor. You know you're a survivor.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “But does the virus know that? Have you told it you’re mine and it can’t have you, Jake?”
“Look at me, Casey. I’m tired and rundown, but I’m here and I’m strong where it counts.” I tapped my head. “Before you know it, I’ll be back at your side, and all this will be behind us. I promise.”
She nodded, but appeared unconvinced. “Finn’s brother Rocky is sick.”
“I know. He’s been in the hospital for a few days.”
“No, Jake. I just talked to Emma. He’s really sick.”
“Shit. Really?”
“This virus – it creeps up on you. Rocky had been having mild symptoms for about a week before things got bad enough for him to call Emma, and then, a few days after that, he’s in the ICU fighting for his life. And then I look at you, someone who's been having mild symptoms for a week... see where my mind is going with this?”
“I see where it’s going, yes, but that won’t be me,” I said. “And it won’t be Rocky either. I don’t know him well, but I know he's tough. He’ll pull through.”
“Tell that to all the people who’ve died. Being ‘tough’ doesn’t exempt you from this virus. If this thing wants you, it’ll take you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen to me,” I replied, the first flicker of anger jabbing through my calm exterior. “And you know how I know it’s not going to happen? Because the universe owes me, Casey. It fucking owes me.”
Casey’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting my outburst. Hell, I hadn’t been expecting my outburst. But this kind of talk pissed me off. I hadn’t survived a serial killer only to be taken by a faceless murderer. That wasn’t how my story was going to end… how our story was going to end. I deserved to grow old with my beautiful wife. I deserved to watch my kids graduate. I deserved the future Ray Davis had tried to take away from me all those years ago.
“Not going to happen.” I repeated stubbornly, more for myself than anyone else.
“Okay,” she replied, her voice stronger than before. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
“Good. And the next dream you’ll have about me will have you writhing on your sheets.”
“Yes, please. I need a little somethin’ somethin’,” she grinned. “Hey, where’s Kyle?”
“Watching the news in the other room. Why? Do you want to have phone sex?”
“Not in your parents’ house, I don’t. Go to the back window.”
I got up and headed over just as Casey was walking up, dressed in tight workout clothes that clung to every curve. Her dark hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and it was bouncing like it lived a full and happy life.
“I look like crap,” she said. “Sorry.”
“No, you look hot as hell.”
“Okay, well, then it’s a good thing you can’t smell me.”
“I’ve temporarily lost my sense of smell, which is a good thing since I’m bunking with Kyle.”
She smiled, and I could see her fear had been replaced with longing. She was pining for me, and that was just another reason for me to come out of this stronger than before. Stepping up to the window, she spread her fingers and pressed them against the glass.
I followed her lead, my fingers joining hers. Even apart, we were together.
“Thank you for making me feel better,” she whispered into the phone. “I’m sorry I doubted you. And you’re right. The universe does owe you.”
“Actually, I take it back.”
“Take what back?” she asked, her face masked in confusion.
“The universe doesn’t owe me shit. In fact, it’s actively worked against me my whole life. Do you have any idea how many times it’s tried
to kill me?”
“Don’t say things like that, Jake,” she replied, her fingers falling from the glass.
“Hey," I called to her. "Come here.”
After a moment’s consideration, Casey fused our fingers together once more.
“Don’t you get it?” I said, leaning my forehead against the window. “I don’t need the universe’s help anymore. I’ve got something now that I didn’t have then – a reason to breathe.”
11
Finn
Lockdown – Day 17
“Indy?”
The soft voice filtered through my slumber. Resisting its pull, I grumbled something incoherent. Going on nearly two weeks of babysitting my relatives, I was looking the part. Showering had become an ‘every-second-or-third-day’ thing, and the skin I normally kept razor-smooth for my woman was now under a furry black animal pelt. How easy it would be to drift off to the dark side… but no. If I ever had hope of finding my way back to Emma and the girls, I had to fight the lure of the Perry clan.
Besides, I was needed here. While Rocky was fighting for his life in the hospital, it fell on me to ease the worries of my niece and nephew, who’d spent the past two weeks following me around like shell-shocked rescue pups. Who could blame them? Their lives had been filled with parental abandonment. Then once they got their dad back and life was finally normalizing, a virus threatened to take him away for good.
And now the pressure was on me to give them some emotional stability. Unlike my girls, who’d never known adversity, Nike and Posy needed constant reassurance. Even bathroom visits were spent entertaining them outside the door. It wasn’t until I sat my niece and nephew down and told them if anything happened to their dad, they’d have a home with Emma and me, that their minds were eased… and they allowed me a little room to breathe.
The last thing I wanted to do was think of a life without my brother, but contingency plans had to be made for if the unthinkable occurred. It was what Rocky wanted, and what Emma had promised him in the car ride to the hospital. I didn’t have to make such assurances. Rocky was blood. My allegiance was already in place.
Once Rocky fell victim to the virus, other family members followed. Two were treated and released from the hospital, while others showed mild symptoms and only needed to be quarantined. In an effort to isolate the sick, I had two motorhomes—with all the hookups and modern-day conveniences—brought into Perryland, which I had parked in front of the main house.
But, in a surprising turn of events, the healthy family members, including Grandma Gigi and Shelby, abandoned the house altogether for the comforts of luxury mobile living. And now the majority of the Perry clan were crammed into the motorhomes like hamsters crawling all over each other to make room in the wheel.
“Indy?” a voice whispered directly into my ear, as one of my dark curls was lifted off my forehead, stretched taut, and then released like a Slinky back into my face.
I knew who it was. Posy. And I knew what she was doing.
“No,” I answered.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” she replied, all innocent-like. I knew better. Posy was no longer the sweet, harmless toddler in riot gear. Now my little niece was a sassy ten-year-old with an appetite for destruction—and science was her new weapon. On the surface, it sounded like a positive hobby for a little girl to have, and if she were running experiments on oxygenation or comparing which cheese molded the fastest, I’d be all for her inquisitive mind. But Posy’s science was all about static electricity, dissections, and explosions.
“Look.” I opened my eyes. “I told you. I’m not buying you any incendiary devices today, and that’s final.”
“But they have curb-side pickup,” she protested.
“Still no.”
Posy sighed, acting as if I were being totally unreasonable.
“Mentos and soda is harmless,” she countered.
“Not when you pour diet soda directly into Mutt’s mouth and drop a Mentos in there. He could’ve exploded, Posy.”
“But he didn’t.”
“But he could have.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “What do you want me to say? Sorry.”
I nodded my head, curls tumbling everywhere. “Yesss! I’ve been saying that for days.”
She waved me off. “Okay, forget about the Mentos. Let’s talk about the helium.”
“Nooo! No helium either. My god, creature. You scare me. There is no conceivable reason for you to have a canister of helium unless you have some newfound interest in balloon animals.”
She sat silently contemplating her answer.
“Posy? What do you need the helium for?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“See? Those three words coming out of your mouth are truly terrifying. How about you watch some TV?”
“Boring.”
“Play some basketball with Nike.”
“Boring.”
“Set off a nuclear explosion?”
“Now you’re talking.”
We both laughed. I opened my arms, and she crawled into them. “What am I going to do with you, Dr. Evil?”
She giggled.
“I know you’re bored. So am I. How about when this quarantine is over, I enroll you in science camp?”
She tipped her head to look up at me from her reclining position. “What level?”
“What do you mean, what level?”
“I don’t want to be stuck at some camp where all we do is watch plants grow. I want to be in the action. Do they have science boot camps?”
“You mean like tossing grenades into greenhouses?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
I tickled her side. “You’re truly frightening.
“You know what I really want?” she whispered, suddenly sounding shy.
“What?”
“I want to be like you.”
“Like me?”
“I want to be an actor.”
I ran her words through my head. Of course – it was the perfect solution for her. A way for her to harness all that pent-up energy. “You’d be an amazing actor, Posy.”
She lit up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yes. And I know what to enroll you in this summer.”
Posy climbed onto my stomach, using her sticky fingers to mold and manipulate my face.
“Tell me like a robot,” she insisted.
“Acting camp,” I replied in my best C-3PO voice. “Same one I did when I was a kid.”
Suddenly she was bouncing on my very full bladder. “Yes! I’m going to be just like you, only with better hair.”
Grabbing her wrists, I tipped her to the side. “Get off me, crazy kid.”
Before she could slide off, Posy bent down and kissed me on my nose. “You’re my best friend, Indy. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And when my daddy gets better, can I still come and see you all the time?”
“If you don’t try blowing me up, sure.”
Posy jumped off and ran for the door of the motorhome, turning to me just before exiting. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Grandma Gigi told me to come get you.”
“Okay,” I replied, sitting up and rubbing my tired eyes. “What does she want?”
“Shelby’s crying… and not just wah-wah crying. Like ugly crying—what nightmares are made of.”
Shelby? Crying? Posy’s words didn’t make any sense. Shelby made others cry, not the other way around. And then it hit me—Rocky. Something had happened. I shot out of bed and grabbed my phone, expecting to find a message or voicemail from Emma. Nothing. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or disappointed.
“What is she crying about?” I asked, already sliding my feet through the leg holes in my jeans.
“I don’t know, but she hasn’t stopped. It’s been going on an hour now.”
My god. Dehydration had to be setting in. My feet hit the linoleum floor before Posy even finished her sentence.
I found my mo
ther sitting atop an upside-down utility bucket, sobbing.
“Shelby? What’s wrong?”
“Stop calling me Shelby!” She halted her bawling long enough to snap at me. “I’m your mother.”
I took a step back. Technically, yes, she was, but my whole life she’d insisted I call her Shelby. What had changed since we’d parted ways last night, after watching that episode of Naked and Afraid?
“I gave birth to you!” she screamed.
In a toilet, I wanted to remind her, but wisely kept that to myself.
“I nurtured you!”
Aside from the few times she’d rolled over on me in her sleep, she’d never really been much of a cuddler.
“And… and…,” she sniffled. “I kept you safe from harm.”
Well, now—that was just a stretch. She did pull me out of that manhole once, but I’d argue she was the reason I’d fallen into it in the first place. I mean, who rides a bike with an unrestrained baby on her lap?
“I tried, Indy. I really did. I tried to be a mother, but I wasn’t cut out for it.” The sobbing intensified. What was happening? Had Shelby been possessed by a poltergeist? I glanced at my wide-eyed cousin Bucky, non-verbally insisting he call the exorcist I was sure he, or someone in the family, had on speed dial, but he just shrugged and grabbed another bottle of beer from his utility belt.
Shaking my head, I focused my attention back on Shelby.
“Okay, Mom,” I said. If placating her meant using her biological title, that was what I’d do. “What’s wrong?”
“I want to take it back,” she cried, smearing tears with the back of her hand. “I want to take all of it back.”
“I’m so lost. Can we back up? What started this?”
“You, Indiana Jones… and Rocky. I should have been a better mother to you. And your sisters.” She laughed miserably. “Do you know I haven’t seen them in over ten years? I’m not even sure how old they are.”
My god. The woman was serious. Shelby was… no, my mother was showing her first signs of remorse in her forty plus years of life. Who said miracles couldn’t happen? I’d been waiting to hear these words my whole life, if only to throw them back in her face. But looking at her tear-streaked cheeks and seeing her so broken changed my mind. Shelby might have been a colossal fuck-up as a parent, but she was my fuck up… and I chose to forgive.