“I am. I’ve already talked to Grandma.”
“They’re both just using you to get Mom all riled up, and that’s the last thing she needs right now.”
“Well I’m sick of worrying about what Mom needs. I’m going to take care of what I need.”
“Auntie G will never let you go,” Holly said.
“That’s why I’m not telling her. I’m leaving tonight. Grandma Shea’s at the Irvine Hotel right now.”
Ame looked at her brother in the rearview mirror. She shook her head back and forth, and did her best to fight back tears. “You’re going to kill her. You’re going to send her right over the edge.”
“She’s already over the edge, Ame. She’s psychotic and I need to be around normal people. Normal people with money.”
“You’re such a selfish little fuck.”
“Maybe so, but this selfish little fuck is heading for the Windy City.”
Ame was disgusted with her brother, but she was also tired of being the grownup. She didn’t see how she could take care of her mother and keep Zach from running away to Grandma and Grandpa Shea if he was determined to do it. She turned to look at Holly. But Holly’s face was enigmatic. Ame took a deep breath and drove toward the Irvine Hotel.
“Give this to Mom,” Zach said as he passed an envelope from the backseat. “She’ll be all right. I know how to bullshit people.”
Ame grabbed the envelope, with tears rolling down her face and anger boiling in her belly. “You learned from the best.”
After he grabbed his bags and shut the trunk, Ame put the car in gear and roared out of the parking lot, just missing a rental with Missouri plates as it pulled in.
∞
Ame’s feet felt like lead as she walked toward the cottage. She hoped against hope that her mother was already in bed.
She wasn’t. When Ame opened the front door, she saw that Gretchel was curled up in the storybook chair, her long legs dangling over the side. Avoiding the inevitable, Ame clutched at a distracting detail.
“Who are the roses from?”
“A misguided admirer,” Gretchel’s face was impossible to read.
Ame tossed her backpack on the couch and sat down across from her mother. “You’re reading one of my Graham Duncan books? Good for you Mom. I think you’ll like him.”
Gretchel smiled at her daughter. “This is my book, Ame. Take a look.”
Gretchel showed her daughter the inscription, and enjoyed the look of awe it produced. “Where did you get that?”
“It was a gift. I lost it when you were a baby and I just found it today.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I didn’t know you read Graham Duncan,” Gretchel smiled.
“I love him.”
“Me, too. He’s my hero,” Gretchel said.
Ame couldn’t help but sigh. Why does nobody get the man’s point?
Gretchel’s smile widened. “I used to have the biggest crush on him. I would fantasize about what he looked like, and I imagined us running away together. I was just so enamored with his writing. It moves me in a way that’s difficult to explain.”
Ame sat on the edge of the couch. She silently cursed her brother. It wasn’t fair that she had to be the bearer of bad news, just when her mother was finding something to hang on to. “I hear he’s a bit of a nutter,” Ame said with an unhappy laugh.
Gretchel grinned, remembering someone else referring to her precious Duncan in the same way. “And quite horny, to tell from his writing.”
“There’s a myth that he has a birthmark on his butt in the shape of a phallus,” Ame said.
“I’d give anything to see it,” Gretchel smiled dreamily.
Ame laughed, and then let out a big sigh. She had dreamed of having this sort of conversation with Gretchel—easy, fun. The discovery that her mother loved Graham Duncan as much as she did should have been awesome. Instead, Ame was stuck with the role of unwelcome messenger. She stood up and handed her mother the letter. “Zach wanted me to give this to you.”
Gretchel ripped the letter open, and Ame crouched behind her to read along.
Mom,
I’m sorry for all the grief I’ve given you lately. Things are hard for me too. I’m not dealing with Dad’s death very well. I need to be with Grandma and Grandpa Shea for a while. I need to get in touch with his side of the family. I need to know why Dad was such a prick. Please don’t be mad, and don’t chase me down. Just let me go for a while, and I’ll be back when I’m ready. I need to be able to sleep, and I need to be able to remember Dad in a good way. I feel like every time you look at me you see him. It feels like your judging me. It feels like you hate me, because I know you hated him. Everything’s going to be okay Mom. Ame will take good care of you, and I’ll be back after I sort through things.
Please don’t forget that I love you,
Zach
Gretchel wadded up the letter and held it between her clenched hands as she stared up at the buck. Ame was afraid to speak. She walked around the chair and sat down at her mother’s feet. Ame was crying. Her mother was not.
“Mama, please say something.”
Gretchel continued to stare at the buck, saying nothing.
“Mama,” Ame pleaded apprehensively, touching Gretchel’s hand.
“Don’t touch me!” Gretchel screamed. Her whole body shook.
“I didn’t mean to...”
“Go to bed!” Gretchel bellowed. Ame burst into a full-blown sob. “Go. To. Bed!” Gretchel screamed.
Ame grabbed her bag and ran up the stairs to her room. Her mother had never treated her this way. Her first thought was to get in touch with Eli. She considered calling him, but something held her back. She sent a text instead.
Eli. Are you there? My brother left for Chicago, and my mom is going berserk. I’m sorry I keep forgetting to check in with you. I’ve been busy. I hate to ask, but can you please fly out to see her soon? Please. I’m begging. I need answers. I need to know how to help her. Nobody will talk to me, and I’m stuck dealing with the lunatic on my own. I’ll never ask another thing of you! Please.
Then Ame put in her earbuds, and tried not to notice that her mother was talking to people who weren’t there.
Gretchel was pacing the front room of the cottage.
Keep the heid, love, or the devil’s bride ‘il have you for dinner.
“Let her come. I don’t care anymore,” Gretchel said.
Dinnae get gallus on us, love. If ye do, yer jus scunnered. Hawd on, then. Chin up! Keep the heid en hawd on!
“I’m done holding on. I dare you, bitch, to show your face!” Gretchel yelled into the empty room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Irvine, 2010s
Eli had been traveling all day. After arriving at Lambert Airport in St. Louis, he decided to rent a car and drive the two hours to Irvine that evening. As he checked into the Irvine Hotel, he was exhausted, mentally and physically.
He had thought about getting in touch with Ame, but he changed his mind. He needed a decent night’s sleep before he made his next move. Eli switched off his phone while he was checking in. He didn’t expect to hear from his mother, but he didn’t want to deal with the guilt of screening her call.
Eli stepped into the elevator with another hotel guest. He got a glimpse of his face as they both turned to face the doors. It didn’t take him long to realize who he was looking at. He had seen this kid on Ame’s Facebook page. Gray eyes. Dark red hair. Unmistakable.
They were both headed for the seventh floor.
“Where you from?” Eli asked.
“What’s it to you?” the boy answered.
Eli had no reply. None he could possibly share at the moment, anyway.
After they both exited the elevator, he watched the boy walk down the hallway with a couple of duffel bags and a suitcase. Eli walked in the opposite direction. He let himself into the room and collapsed on the bed.
After all this time, he was finally go
ing to see Gretchel again. He had no idea what might come from this reunion, but he did know that he was about to destroy the quiet, steady life he had created for himself over the past seventeen years. He had ceased to be inertia’s bitch, and he was grateful.
Eli brushed his teeth. He splashed water on his face. He got ready for bed like it was any other night, and smiled at the contrast between his mundane actions and his inner agitation. As he pulled up the covers and turned off the light on the headboard, he tried to remember the last time he had touched Gretchel. The difficulty wasn’t that the memory was lost or buried; it was, rather, that it was so difficult to bear that he never let himself near it.
∞
Irvine, 1990s
Gretchel had risen early, as Eli knew she would. He didn’t follow her when she went for her morning run. He showered, shaved, and dressed. Then he sat on the cold sun porch and waited. When she returned, he watched as she threw rock after rock at the old truck in the Wicked Garden. The sight was slightly terrifying, but he didn’t try to stop her.
Gretchel headed straight for the bath as soon as she got back. Eli heard water running. He entered the bathroom without knocking.
She was covered in a blanket of bubbles, but Eli could still see the soft, white skin of her arms and neck. He closed his eyes and stilled himself before he sank to the floor and leaned against the tub. “I need a drink, Eli. I need a drink, but I don’t want one. Do you know what I mean?”
He did, but he didn’t. Eli, his parents, and his grandparents had an easygoing relationship with mood-altering substances. Acid, mushrooms, pot—these were just a normal part of his life. But he knew enough to know that alcohol’s hold on Gretchel was something entirely different than he had ever experienced or seen.
He wanted to help her. He wanted that more than anything. He thought about the baby in her belly, and he accepted that she had already made a choice that did not include him. There was only one thing left that he could do.
“Do you believe in magic Gretchel?”
She looked at him oddly. “That’s a stupid question to ask a witch. You know I do.”
He nodded and pulled something from his pocket. It was the amulet his mother had given him. “I want you to have this. I don’t totally understand what it can do, but I know that it’s very old and very special, and I think that it might protect you and the baby. I hope it will, Gretchel. I want you both to be safe.”
Gretchel reached out her hand and took the necklace. “An amethyst. I've never seen one so lovely,” she said as she fingered the jewel. “Where did you get it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Do you know the story of Amethystos from Greek mythology?”
“Yes, I think I remember it. Amethystos was a maiden who refused Dionysus. He pursued her, and she begged the gods to save her. Artemis answered her prayer by turning her into stone.”
Eli nodded his head in agreement. “The name ‘Amethystos’ means ‘not drunken,’ Gretchel. She was able to resist the god of wine, and this stone is what she became. Even if you can’t believe in me, or yourself, I’m begging you to believe in this amethyst. I want you to believe that it will keep you safe. I want it to keep the baby safe.”
Eli took the necklace from Gretchel and clasped it around her neck. It rested between her breasts, just above the bubbles.
“Give me your hand, Eli.” She guided his hand beneath the bubbles and under the water, and pressed it against her belly.
He felt a kick, and a huge grin spread across his face. Gretchel smiled, too. Then she seemed to remember herself, and her smile collapsed. “I want to get out now. Can you please turn around?” Eli did as she asked and turned away, but the full-length mirror hung on the bathroom door exposed him to a vision that would haunt him for the next seventeen years. It was if Aphrodite were stepping out of the sea already pregnant with life. It was the most awe-inspiring thing he had seen. The most beautiful poem ever written could not do this moment justice, though for years he tried over and over again to form the words.
He watched her pick up a brush, and he covered his head just as she hurled it at the mirror.
“Take me back to Carbondale,” she commanded.
Eli waited until Gretchel had left the bathroom before he uncurled. He carefully brushed the broken glass from his sleeves, and ran his fingers through his hair. Silvered shards fell to the floor.
He stood in the hallway for a while. Gretchel had rejected him. He had given her the amulet. He didn’t know what else to do. He decided to say his goodbyes.
Gretchel was emptying dresser drawers, tossing everything into a duffel bag.
She was still naked.
She stopped and turned to Eli when he stepped into the bedroom.
Eli found that he had nothing else to say.
Gretchel stepped toward him and entwined her fingers in his hair. She pressed herself against him. “Oh, Hermes,” she whispered, “I am going to miss you.”
And then Eli was naked, too, before he even had time to think.
They were spread across the bed in a deranged bliss. He gently rubbed her belly over and over again. Her scars were stretched to silver slivers. There was a new mark right above her ribcage—fresh, jagged, different from the older scars. Eli tried to ignore it, but it was hard.
Tears began to fall down his face. “I love your baby, Gretchel. I love your baby and I love you. I want to protect you both, and I want you both to be mine.” Eli was sobbing now.
Gretchel turned to stone. “Take me back, Eli. Just take me back to Carbondale. I don’t want to face my mama or Miss Poni again. I’ve shamed my family enough already.”
∞
Carbondale, 1990s
The two-hour drive back to Carbondale was brutal. Gretchel held Eli’s hand the whole way. Every time they stopped for her to use a gas-station bathroom—which was often—she clutched his hand again as soon as she got back in the passenger’s seat. It was like she was on her way to the gallows, and she had to hold onto the last thing she had left in this world.
Gretchel became agitated once they got to Carbondale. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking you to the house on Pringle Street.”
She squeezed Eli’s hand.
“No! He’s waiting for me. If I’m late he’ll punish me. If he knows I’ve been with you he’ll kill me.”
“If he wants you, he’s going to have to go through me,” Eli said. He’d had two hours to think of something brilliant, and this was the best he could come up with.
Gretchel began to cry.
Eli didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want anyone else to hurt her, either, and he didn’t want her to hurt herself. He had no idea what he was doing. He kept driving toward the house on Pringle Street.
There was a black car sitting in the driveway. A very expensive black car. Oh, shit, Eli thought. What the hell is she doing here?
“Oh no,” Gretchel moaned. Eli glanced behind him and saw Troy getting out of his red convertible. He hadn’t noticed it parked on the street, waiting for them.
Eli turned back toward Gretchel. “The doors are locked. Do not get out of the car. Stay with me, Gretchel. I can keep you safe. I can take you away from here.”
Troy beat his fist on Gretchel’s window. “Get the fuck out of the car!”
She turned to Eli. “I have to go or he’s going to kill me. You don’t understand.”
“He’s going to kill you if you do get out,” Eli yelled as he opened his own door.
He circled the car and stepped up to Troy. “Back the fuck off!” Then he shoved him several feet across the yard.
“Look, hippie, Gretchel’s baby isn’t your problem. Just walk away and nobody will get hurt this time.” Eli looked around. All Troy’s friends had probably gone home for the break, too. He was alone.
“I guess that’s the difference between you and me, Shea, because I don’t see Gretchel’s baby as a problem.”
Troy threw a punch, but Eli backed u
p, and then surged forward, tackling him to the ground. He couldn’t help it. He had never been so furious. He was about to land a punch when two very strong pairs of hands pulled him away from Troy. Bewildered, Eli looked to his left and his right and saw a couple of extremely large men he had never seen before.
Troy stood up and brushed himself off. “Bodyguards? Who the hell are you, hippie?”
Eli struggled—adrenaline and anger had taken him over—but he wasn’t budging. “It’s time for you to move along,” one of the men said to Troy.
Troy looked at Gretchel, who was still locked inside Eli’s car, crying. “Get out!” Troy yelled, as he pounded on the window.
“Don’t do it Gretchel. You’re worth so much more than this,” Eli shouted.
Eli watched in horror as Gretchel opened the door, stepped out of his car and let Troy lead her to his. As walked away, she said, “No, I’m not worth more than this, Eli. This is exactly what I deserve.”
Eli watched her get in Troy’s car, and watched as they drove away into the dismal, rainy afternoon.
Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of being restrained. “Get your fucking hands off of me.” The bodyguards complied. Eli marched into the house.
His mother was sitting on the chronic couch. Eli could only assume that she had watched the scene in the driveway.
“Hello, Elliot. I flew in this morning, and I’ve been sitting on this sofa that reeks strongly of marijuana for a very long time. I haven’t seen you in six months, Eli. I allow you to go to school here, and all I ask in return is for you to come home for a few days, and you can’t even do that. Now I see why. A girl. The girl. I think I also understand why a bill from Carbondale Memorial came in the mail.”
“There’s a speeding ticket on its way, too,” he said, taking off his jacket, and hurling his car keys across the room.
“You’re going home. The fun is over, though it doesn’t appear to have been much fun,” she said.
All the fury drained out of Eli, leaving him looking very much like the devastated boy he was. “Jesus, Mother. I already knew you were obsessive and cold. I never realized that you were actually heartless.”
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