“Me and my brother. We were supposed to stay here.”
“Okay, honey.” Her voice was even more impatient. “Where is
your brother?”
“With my dad.”
“But you don’t know where your dad is?”
“No.” He wanted to tell her that it was only meant to be a joke, a
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mean joke, sure, but only a joke. He wanted to tell her that he knew
he had done a bad thing. That he should never have pretended that
Dmitri had fallen through the ice.
Her dog was whining, pulling at the leash, wanting to continue.
She hushed her dog, then turned to Jesse. She seemed to be rolling
something over in her mind. “There weren’t any cars in the parking
lot when I got here, love.”
Jesse shrugged. What could he say to get this woman to leave him
alone? He didn’t want to tell the truth—that his father had threat-
ened him with a beating if he moved.
“I need to stay by this tree,” he told the woman.
“You know,” she said, “there’s another parking lot about a half
mile from here. I wonder if he’s there.”
“Please,” Jesse started, but the woman had decided that she had
solved the mystery.
“That makes sense,” she was saying. “Come on. Let’s get you
warm. I don’t think he meant to leave you out in the cold. You must
have gotten separated, yes? He’s probably somewhere on the trails
looking for you.”
Jesse considered this alternative reality for a moment—one in
which his father was calling his name, Dmitri perched on his shoul-
ders. Jesse! Where are you?
“My dad said he’d be back soon,” he told the woman.
“We’ll wait a bit in the car, get you warmed up. Then we’ll try the
other parking lot, okay? Let’s. Come on now.”
The woman’s dog was whining more forcefully, and Jesse saw that
the woman was getting impatient, both with her dog and with him.
He didn’t want her to be angry. He was so tired of people being
angry.
But he also didn’t want his father to hurt him. He felt certain that
the guilt of what he had done was punishment enough. But he didn’t
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know what his father was capable of. His father did not seem like
anyone else he knew. And now Jesse had broken a rule—a law, it
seemed—by pretending his brother had fallen through the ice.
Everything else he had ever done—every little cruelty—seemed so
small now. He wondered if his father might kill him this time. He
had felt before that his father hated him, but—after what he had
done—he knew if it hadn’t been true before, it was now.
“I can’t leave a little boy alone in the woods, do you understand?”
she said. Her voice was sharp, and Jesse winced.
“Okay,” he said, stepping away from the tree cautiously, as though
his father were around the corner, keeping watch. He took another
hesitant step. And another. Finally, he walked to the woman and petted her dog. It was a nice dog, with thick fur. The dog licked Jesse’s hand, and he smiled.
“My name is Vera,” the woman said. Her voice was softer, and
sweeter.
“I’m Jesse.” He felt better now that he wasn’t facing the tree, his
face bright red from the cold.
“Okay, Jesse, my car’s up here a hundred yards or so,” said Vera.
“Come along now.”
“We were going to learn how to shoot today.”
“Oh?”
“My dad said he’d teach us.”
“We’ll find him.” She put her hand on the top of Jesse’s head and
they walked along the trail that way, as though he were a little pup-
pet. “How old are you, honey?”
“Ten,” Jesse said.
“Just about all grown up.”
“Yeah.” Jesse felt his heart lift a bit.
“Here we are. Come along now.”
They reached the parking lot and she unlocked the car, held the
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door open for Jesse. “Hop on in. That’s it. Okay. Let’s get the heat
on.” It was a much nicer car than the one his father had. It was a nicer car than his mother’s. He had to step onto a running board to get
into the passenger seat. He was high up, way up off the ground, in
this woman’s beautiful car. The seat was leather, slippery and cold,
and he watched his breath leave his body in a narrow jet. In his
father’s car, the gearshift said “Toyota,” right on the knob. There
wasn’t a gearshift in this car. The woman had a fuzzy black steering-
wheel cover and the car was spotless.
The woman shooed her dog into the back seat and got into the
driver’s seat. She took off her gloves and Jesse saw that her fingers were covered in beautiful rings. He had never seen rings like that
before; they looked heavy, expensive, unusual. One had a giant gem-
stone on it and the woman caught him looking at it.
“Look,” she said, waving her hand in front of his face. The gem-
stone glowed a blue-green colour. “Now look again.” She put her
hand down by his feet, out of the light. The gemstone was dark red,
almost purple.
“How does it do that?” he asked. His mother wore a thin gold
wedding band and that was all.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s my favourite thing in the world.”
The woman unzipped her jacket, turned on the car, and blasted
the heat. Freezing air blew out of the vents, and Jesse moved his face away from it, dug his chin into his chest. The stereo had come on
and weird music was playing now, too loudly, violin and piano music,
people moaning in the background. It took the woman a long time
to turn it off. She kept pressing the volume button instead of the
power button. It made Jesse want to scream.
“I’m sorry,” she said to him. “I’m just so nervous.” She looked at
him, then shook her head. “Look,” she said, “let’s drive to the other parking lot, see if your dad’s there.”
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Jesse sat on his hands, which were raw and red from the cold,
and stared out the window of the woman’s car. His breath fogged
the glass and he fought the urge to draw a picture with his finger—
his father scolded him when he did that. But he couldn’t resist.
Quickly, hoping Vera wouldn’t see, he drew three vertical lines. He
pretended they were bars, and that he was being taken to prison.
Vera offered him a butterscotch candy and he sucked it slowly, let
it clang around in his mouth. He drew two more lines on the win-
dow. He listened to Vera tell him what a brave boy he was being,
how she would help him find his father, how the trails should be
more clearly marked. In the back seat, her dog panted out stale
breath. He was whining again, and the woman kept hushing him
/> in a stern voice.
“The good news is that there’s plenty of daylight left,” she said.
“We’ll find your dad and your brother, Jesse.”
“Okay,” Jesse said. He had an urge to wrench open the car door
and hurl himself out, then run into the woods. He felt strong and
self-sufficient. He felt as though he could be a boy who lived in the woods—he knew he could survive it. There was nothing more beautiful than snow falling in the forest. There was nothing more beautiful than the lack of sound—so quiet it was as if his ears were stuffed with cotton—and nothing more beautiful than the smell of damp earth.
Down a little road, and then they were at the second parking lot.
There was no one in sight. The woman looked at Jesse. “No,” she
said. “Well, all right.”
Her face looked suddenly exhausted, and she turned away from
him, looked out the window.
“Oh, I’m a fool,” she said, laughing as she turned back to him.
“What we ought to do is call your mother. Do you know your phone
number?”
He nodded.
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“Good,” she said. “I’ll find a quarter.”
She turned off the car and hopped out, dug through her pockets
and then looked under the seat. Jesse could see a quarter on the floor by his feet but didn’t say anything. He did things like that sometimes—
didn’t speak up, didn’t help people—but couldn’t say why, or what pleasure it gave him.
“If I had kids, I’d never let them out of my sight,” she was saying.
“Can’t imagine it.” Her face was flushed. “Damn it,” she said.
Jesse watched her as she tried to figure out what to do. She kept
twisting one of her rings off her finger—the one that changed colours—
then sliding it back on. She asked whether she had left her change purse at home. How would he know? He watched her rummage through her
jacket and produce a pack of cigarettes. She brought one to her mouth but did not light it.
“There,” she said, finally spotting the quarter. She asked for his
phone number, then shut the car door and walked to the pay phone, so
that Jesse could hear only the sound of the dog panting behind him.
“Good boy,” Jesse told the dog. “Such a good, brave boy.”
He reached behind him and stroked the dog’s ears, which were
thick and soft and slightly damp from the snow. He let his hand rest
on the dog’s head. The dog kept trying to lick Jesse’s hand and
finally Jesse let him. He held out his hand, and the dog’s big rough
tongue ran over his palm. “Good boy,” he said again. He tried to
imagine what would happen next: his mother would arrive in her
car, take him into her arms. She would be mad about him pretend-
ing Dmitri had fallen through the ice, but she would get over it. He
took a deep breath and let himself relax for the first time that day.
The woman tapped on the driver’s side window and Jesse
looked up. She was shaking her head and gesturing back at the pay
phone, the unlit cigarette in her hand. She opened the car door and
told him his mother hadn’t picked up. She walked again to the pay
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phone. Jesse felt his body tense. He leaned toward the open car
door, so he could hear her. She asked to speak to the police, and he
knew suddenly that his father was back at the other parking lot,
walking toward the tree, Dmitri behind him. He felt it in his bones.
If he ran fast enough, he could reach the tree. If he ran fast enough, he could catch up with his father and he wouldn’t be beaten. He
knew the trails well enough. In an instant, he was out of the car,
the woman shrieking behind him, the snow falling faster now, until
he was invisible.
Jesse had watched the Olympics on TV: he knew how to run. He
kicked up his legs, imagined there was a windmill beneath his
waist, a circular motion, both feet off the ground, his arms at ninety-degree angles, all the power coming from his shoulders, his feet
flexed up and then down each time they struck the ground; he imag-
ined he was moving the earth, kicking up a huge cloud of dirt and
snow to wipe out whoever was behind him. He would be a great
athlete one day, he was sure of it. He ran deep into the woods, past
the campground, until he reached the lake. He had a good sense of
direction and knew if he crossed the lake at this point he would meet up with the trail that led to the place where he had been standing. If he ran fast enough, he could reach it before his father and he wouldn’t be punished.
His heart was beating so hard that it seemed to be outside his
body. He stopped at the edge of the lake and wrapped his arms
around himself, sides heaving. He spat into the snow. He heard some-
thing behind him and spun to face the dog, the woman’s nice dog,
wide-mouthed, its tongue hanging out, snow balled onto its legs so
that it looked as if it were wearing white leg warmers.
“Go on,” he said, waving his arm in the direction of the trail.
“Get.” The dog stayed put, its mouth hanging open so that it seemed
to be laughing. Jesse heard the woman whistling for the dog. He felt
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a heaviness in his chest that he was not the runner he thought he was; surely he should be farther away, out of reach.
“For crying out loud,” he could hear the woman saying. “Slow
down.” He stared at the icy expanse of lake ahead of him. If he
crossed it, he’d be on the other side in a matter of minutes—and back to where his father had told him to wait. He could even see the hole
where his father had broken through the ice, in search of Dmitri. He
could run around it. Surely the woman wouldn’t come after him.
“Good, brave boy,” he whispered as he slid one of his boots and
then the other out onto the frozen lake. His legs were shaking and he clenched his fists, determined to make it to the other side.
“Jesse.”
He could hear the woman close behind him and the loud panting
of the dog.
“Stop that. Come back here.”
He shook his head, not looking at her, and continued his journey
across the lake, back to his life with his father and brother. He reached the spot where his father had broken through the ice. A thin layer had formed over the hole, and snow fell softly on it; soon it would be
covered. The paper boats were nowhere in sight. Underwater probably,
or pecked apart by birds.
“Everything is going to be okay, Jesse,” she called out. “I need you
to turn around and walk back to me.” Her voice was shrill, hysterical even. He hated the sound of it.
His father would be so angry, not only that he wasn’t waiting by
the tree but also that the woman had called the police. Jesse would
have to tell the police the awful truth: that he had pretended Dmitri had fallen through the ice. They would ask why. Because I was angry
with my father. Because I wanted to make him suffer. He would have
to say these words to the police in front of his father. Hi
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his father away. And then, once his father was out of jail? Well, his father—his father would kill him.
“Leave me alone,” he shouted back at the woman. “Please, I’m
fine,” he said. “Go away.”
He slipped and felt the toe of his boot plunge into the cold water.
He scrambled to his feet and stared at the long stretch of ice ahead of him. He couldn’t see the hole in the ice. It was snowing hard and he
was turned around, couldn’t tell which direction would lead him
back to the tree where his father had told him to wait. “Go away,” he said to the woman. He could not make his legs move in any direction. “Leave me alone,” he said. “Please.”
“Stay right where you are,” she said. “Don’t move. I’m coming,
honey. You’re going to be okay.”
He watched as the woman charged onto the lake toward him, her
dog behind her.
He put out his arms as if to stop her, but she kept coming for him.
“No,” he said.
Despite all the exciting stuff Jesse saw on TV or read about in
books, nothing exciting had ever happened to him. He would get sick
but it never turned into pneumonia. His mother complained of
a headache but it never turned out to be a brain tumour. She took a
corner too fast but they never crashed into another car, or ran any-
body over. The black backpack left at the bus stop in front of their
house never exploded; the knock at the door never ended in a home
invasion, everyone gagged and tied to chairs. The phone rang but
nobody had ever died.
The woman was one step away from him, and Jesse watched as
she put her foot down and the ice below shattered. Oh god, he heard
her say. She came crashing down, unsteady on one knee, teetering at
the edge of the hole in the ice, and she reached for him. She had him by his coat. He wrestled away from her grasp, terrified of being pulled Celo_9780735235823_4p_all_r1.indd 226
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into the water. One push. All it would take was one push. He closed
his eyes and pushed her as hard as he could.
“Don’t,” she said, but he leapt away from her, and then she was
underwater.
In an instant his father was beside him, shoving him out of the way.
How a Woman Becomes a Lake (ARC) Page 22