The Hunger Moon

by Suzanne Matson

  “I’m in the shower,” Bryan shouted over the water. “Take a message.”

  A second later she returned to the door. “It’s somebody named June. The message is that if you don’t talk to her now you’ll be sorry. You want me to hang up on her?”

  But Bryan was already out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself and running past Melissa for the phone, leaving wet puddles in the hall behind him.

  Melissa said, “I hope you’re going to clean that up!” and disappeared down the stairs.

  Bryan stopped to catch his breath before he spoke.

  “June?”

  “Yes,” June said.

  “I’ve been leaving messages for you all week,” he said. “Are you with Renata and Charlie? Where are you?”

  “I got your messages. I’ve been traveling with them, but Renata sent me home because it’s the end of my school vacation. I know where she is now, but by this afternoon she’ll be gone, and I don’t know where she’s headed next. You don’t have much time to catch up with her.”

  “Where is she? Just a minute; do I need to write this down?” Bryan clutched his towel with one hand and cradled the phone with his ear, looking frantically around for a pencil.

  “I need to ask you some things first.”

  “You just said we needed to hurry.”

  “We do, but I’m not telling you where she is until you answer my questions.”

  He forced himself not to shout at her. “Go ahead.”

  “Do you love Renata, or just Charlie?”

  “What?” His voice rose incredulously. “What kind of a game is this, June?”

  “I need to know. Renata thinks you don’t care about her.”

  “Of course I care about her,” Bryan sputtered. “But she’s made herself a little bit difficult to like these days.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “What is this?”

  “Yes or no, and don’t lie,” June warned. “Miriam told me I have a psychic nature, so I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

  “Who the hell is Miriam?”

  “Yes or no.”

  “I’ve had some dates. There’s nothing wrong with that. Those were the rules that Renata wanted—both of us free.” Bryan was getting angry and feeling chilly. There was a slippery pool of water around his feet. Melissa came up the stairs pointedly offering him a sponge. He glared at her until she retreated.

  “So, do you love Renata, or not? Tell the truth.”

  The truth. He had driven across the country to find out what Renata was hiding from him; he had found out, and fallen in love with his son; he had alternately been drawn to Renata and been made furious by her. At the moment he was furious. She had stolen his son from him, twice. This time he was aware of the loss; it felt like something ripped right out of his gut. Did he love Renata? He wanted to strangle her. She had treated him like dirt. He knew June wouldn’t be satisfied unless he said yes. He said yes.

  “Why do you love Renata?”

  “June, this is crazy.”

  “It’s not crazy, because I do love Renata. She’s my friend. Do you think I want to ruin her life by letting you know where she is before I’m sure of your motives?”

  “I’m Charlie’s father,” he said belligerently. “How about not ruining my life? And don’t forget Charlie’s.”

  “I’m hanging up now,” June said. “I didn’t call you to argue.”

  “Okay, okay, hang on. Why do I love Renata, that’s the question?”

  “Yes.”

  Bryan tried to remember how they were in California. The way she would stretch herself coming out of sleep and open her eyes smiling when she found him already awake, watching her. How, in the middle of the night, when he awoke with a jolt, his heart pounding, he could encircle her with his arms and go back to sleep almost immediately. He had been to bed with other women, lots of them, both before and after Renata, but she was the only one he had missed when she was gone. Hers was the only face he could recall in perfect detail. Hers and now their son’s.

  “June?” When he spoke again his voice was changed. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Please.”

  IT WAS SEVEN-THIRTY WHEN HE HUNG UP. June had told him he had four, maybe four and a half hours to get to them at the motel in Maine where they had spent last night. “I’m sure they won’t check out until after Charlie’s morning nap,” she had said. “He wakes up at eleven-thirty. They’ll be gone by twelve, at the latest.”

  As he threw on his jeans and sweatshirt, his mind raced. He could call ahead, speak to her. But he knew her stubbornness. Knew she’d bolt. He could call the motel manager, ask them to detain her in some way. But that would only make him seem suspicious; they’d probably warn her and she’d leave. He had no choice but to get there in four hours.

  RENATA WATCHED JUNE’S BUS ROLL AWAY and felt like some part of her was leaving with it. Now she and Charlie were adrift, but without the same sense of adventure Renata had felt last fall; now she was running. She didn’t let on, but when June was trying to persuade her to go back to Boston, she almost said yes. She would plead with Theo for her job back, and she would sit down and hash it out with Bryan. Then she remembered his voice, cold and punishing, talking about lawyers and custody. That gave her the strength she needed.

  She hoped she did the right thing in sending June away. Surely she would go back to school and get over this slump. Renata had cautiously suggested that June find a counselor to talk to, maybe one at school. But June had said she was fine, in that brittle, irritated tone of hers that reminded Renata that the girl was still, after all, just a teenager, volatile and contrary. Maybe Renata should call her mother and tell her how thin June had gotten, and suggest that she be seen by a doctor. Or would her mother resent the interference?

  Renata passed by the Cuppa Coffee and thought about swinging in for breakfast. But she had some muffins in her motel room; she would eat those. By the time they got to the room it was just seven-thirty, and Charlie wouldn’t need a nap until ten. She dreaded making him sit confined in his car seat for long distances again. She decided to let him play in the room until his nap time, then load him into the car and drive while he slept. By the time he woke up they could stop somewhere for lunch and a stretch, and then she could drive again during his afternoon nap.

  After packing up the car, Renata put Charlie in his stroller and wandered down to the harbor. It wasn’t warm, but with the sun out everything was brightly colored. The waves had been the color of lead; now they were a deep sapphire. She picked Charlie up and pointed out the gulls and fishing boats and orange buoys. He took it in somberly. Then he rubbed his eyes. Renata read it as a signal that they should be off. She went into the motel office to drop off the key, and the grandmotherly woman behind the desk exclaimed, “Oh, thank heavens!” when she saw her. “That girl that was with you—”

  “June? She left on the bus this morning from Rum Junction.”

  “She did? Well then, who was the girl who collapsed in the Cuppa Coffee ten minutes ago? They called and said she had one of our matchbooks in her pocket, and I was sure it was the girl who was with you because of the long hair.”

  “A girl collapsed? Collapsed how?”

  “They just said she was unconscious. Found her in the bathroom. The paramedics took to her to the county hospital, about twelve miles north of here.”

  “Did they check her name? Didn’t she have identification?”

  “Well, now, we didn’t get that far, because I thought I knew who it was. Let me call back and ask Irene at the Cuppa Coffee.”

  As she watched the woman talk, Renata rocked Charlie’s stroller and tried to persuade herself that June was on the bus, safely headed back to Boston. Why on earth would she have gotten off? There of all places, where she would be completely stranded.

  “So, it was her. Thanks a lot, Irene, and you take care now.” The woman hung up, nodding. “It was your girl, all right. They got her name
off her identification. And they didn’t know how she got there, because there was no car in the lot, so she must have gotten off the bus you put her on.”

  WHEN RENATA SAW JUNE, she was surrounded by apparatus. Tubes entered her arms and were taped to her nose. She had just been wheeled out of emergency surgery and was still unconscious. Her skin was tinged with blue, and the hospital gown revealed her to be appallingly bony. In the week they had been together, June had changed clothes in the bathroom and worn a large flannel nightgown to bed. By day, under loose jeans and bulky sweaters, it was impossible to determine how underfed she actually was. Now, Renata saw.

  Charlie had dozed in her arms while Renata sat through the surgery, and he was still sleeping when the doctor met her in the waiting area, dressed in his green surgical scrubs.

  “Are you family?” he asked Renata.

  “I’m a friend. We were traveling together. I’ve notified her mother and she’s on her way. What happened to her?”

  “She was hemorrhaging internally from the stomach. She was in real danger.”

  “But why? What caused it?”

  “Repeated vomiting. Years of it, I’d say. This young woman has a serious eating disorder.”

  RENATA DIDN’T LEAVE JUNE’S ROOM. Charlie was delighted with the shiny hospital equipment. Whenever the nurse was out of the room, Renata let him play on the vacant bed next to June. With its rails up, it was as good as a playpen. Then the nurse happened to come in before Renata could pick him up, but all she said when she saw Charlie on the bed was, “That little guy needs some toys,” and she came back a moment later with a small plastic pitcher and cup, and a rubber bulb syringe that Charlie immediately began gnawing on.

  “Don’t mention it,” she said when Renata thanked her. “I’ve got a ten-month-old at home.”

  Sitting and waiting, Renata recalled the time by her father’s bedside, and her detached, numb feeling then. Now she was locked to the sight of June’s small white face. Renata felt as if she were breathing for her, and somehow using a portion of her energy and health to supplement June’s own, to help lift her back to the surface.

  Around noon, June opened her eyes. Renata’s face was lowered to hers in an instant, talking in soothing tones, exactly the way she helped Charlie find his place back in the world after a deep sleep.

  “You’re okay now, June. Everything’s okay now. Charlie and I are with you. Your mom will be here soon.”

  June’s eyes widened. She moved her head in an agitated way. She made a dry sound with her throat.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” Renata crooned. “Your mom is so worried about you. She just wants to be with you and make sure you’re okay.” She stroked June’s hair and the girl drifted back asleep. When Renata heard footsteps hesitate in the doorway behind her, so unlike the busy, padded steps of the nurses, she assumed June’s mother had arrived. With Charlie in her arms, she turned, presenting a reassuring smile.

  Bryan smiled in a half-apologetic, half-pleading way and shrugged. Then he held out his arms, and she made him hold them there for several seconds before it occurred to her what she should do. She walked into them.

  IT WAS MAY, ALMOST TOO HOT to wear Mrs. MacGregor’s suit, but June felt that it would be lucky. She coiled her hair in a French twist, like Mrs. M. wore it in some of her pictures, and pinned the orchid Renata had given her to her lapel. She was the bridesmaid, but she was going to be holding Charlie instead of flowers. Renata’s sister, who had flown in from Oregon, would also be standing up.

  Since it was so warm, she didn’t need a blouse under the jacket. Instead she fastened a thin gold chain with a single pearl around her neck. Her mother had given it to her the day June came home from her first visit with the counselor. The counselor, a woman with glasses and cropped gray hair, was nice. She didn’t tell June what to do. Actually, she got June to do most of the talking. During their sessions she listened very hard; perhaps no one had ever listened to June quite so intently. When June faltered or struggled for words, she simply waited. Sometimes she had to wait a while. June was surprised at how much work it was to tell a secret.

  At the courthouse they were milling around a little frantically, waiting for Renata and Bryan to be called before the judge. Renata’s niece and nephew kept trying to make Charlie walk, which he was on the verge of learning to do himself, except that in their eagerness they kept making him lose his balance instead of letting him lean on their hands, the way he needed to. He didn’t mind, though; he clearly worshiped them, crawling after whichever one of them was nearest. June had been surprised that Renata’s sister looked so unlike her. Renata was tall and slender, Marcia petite and curvy. Renata had white skin and black hair, Marcia’s skin was pinkish with freckles, her hair coppery. Renata said that Marcia got all the Irish and she got all the Spanish in their blood. But for some reason you could see a real resemblance between their children. Even though Charlie looked a lot like Bryan, his eyes crinkled up in a smile exactly the same way his cousins’ did.

  Renata and Bryan both seemed jumpy. Though they were nervously smiling a lot, they couldn’t really look anyone in the eye. June supposed they had a lot of emotions to keep under control; anyone would, on a wedding day, even a couple who hadn’t had as peculiar a romance as Renata and Bryan. They were so beautiful, though, that June found it hard to take her eyes off them— Bryan with his blond hair and black suit; Renata in a short white shift, white heels, gold locket, nothing in her short dark hair at all.

  Their wedding day had turned out cloudless and sunny, with lilacs and azaleas blooming on every corner. June had decided to wear Mrs. M.’s suit the minute Renata invited her to be a bridesmaid. This suit had been picked out for Mrs. M.’s trousseau, and she had had a very happy marriage; you wanted to take advantage of karma like that. As June rode to the courthouse with Marcia’s family, she saw another good omen: above them a creamy day-light moon, round as a saucer.

  “Look, Jess, it’s the Milk Moon,” she said, pointing.

  “A Milky Moon?” Jess giggled.

  “May’s full moon—it’s called the Milk Moon,” June said. She liked the sound of it, as if all you had to do was reach up and tip it toward you for a drink.

  PRECISELY AT TWO, A BAILIFF OPENED the wooden door and motioned them into the judge’s chambers. June picked up Charlie, and brushed some dust from his hands and knees. He twisted around to see where his cousins were, then relaxed when he saw that they were still with him, filing in beside their mother, who was walking in behind the bride.

  THEY WERE IN THE JUDGE’S ANTEROOM, where the chairs had all been pushed to the perimeter. Renata was relieved to see that they wouldn’t be having the ceremony in the courtroom, where people were tried for crimes.

  Bryan stood alone; he had no best man. Marcia and her kids were to the left of Renata, as were June and Charlie. From his perch in June’s arms Charlie looked at her and clapped his palms over his eyes. Now she was supposed to say Where’s Charlie? in her most worried tone, looking high and low. When he didn’t hear her say it, he released his hands anyway, to see why she wasn’t playing, and she mouthed There he is!, opening her eyes wide to convey her relief and astonishment. He snickered and clapped his hands over his eyes again, but she couldn’t take her turn; the judge was beginning.

  It was a woman judge; Renata wondered if Eleanor had ever performed marriages. Probably not. Eleanor was responsible for dealing with the destruction afterward, holding children aloft in the net of her judgment while she weighed the heaviness of one parent’s failures against the balance of the other’s until she could determine how to put the children down in the least harmful spot.

  Renata looked down at her hands; remarkably, they were still. Inside she had been trembling since daybreak. Bryan, too, had tossed and turned last night, although he didn’t seem to have any nightmares. They were still with him, those dreams that he couldn’t remember upon waking, but which visited him once or twice a week with some kind of torment that he could never tu
rn into words. Since she had been sharing a bed with him again, Renata had realized that you could never be close enough to anyone to see inside his nightmares, just as you could never care for him enough to prevent them. What you could do, though, is be present outside them, waiting to welcome him back.

  The judge concluded her greetings. She had a kind face, and wore a wedding ring herself, a plain gold band. That was good. Neither Bryan nor Renata knew one damn thing about marriage, having had absolutely no good examples of it in their combined lifetimes, so it was comforting to think that this stranger saying words over them might shed some of her own steadiness their way. For her part, Renata had observed all the superstitions she could, except for the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding, which was impossible because Bryan had already moved in with them. But she had her something old—her mother’s heart-shaped locket, which had been empty until Renata carefully cut one tiny Charlie face and one tiny Bryan face from a contact sheet of prints and fitted them into the two halves of the heart. Her something new was her dress; her something borrowed was a Pocahontas sticker Jess had applied to the inside of her hem; and her something blue was her engagement ring. Bryan had sold four prints so far from his group photography show, and bought her the small sapphire ring from the proceeds.

  They were supposed to say the words. The judge told them what they were, and then Bryan began repeating them to Renata, looking straight into her eyes with no trace of irony. He was promising her fantastic things, improbable things.

  Maybe there were some futures that belonged to you once you had said yes to the initial premise. The first premise was Charlie. Or maybe it came earlier, the first night Bryan dreamed his motherless dream in her presence, and she held him afterward, not understanding a single thing about this man. Maybe it came even earlier than that: the day she bought herself a meal overlooking the ocean with her father’s birthday money, and a breeze picked up Bryan’s baseball hat and tossed it to Renata and she caught it without dropping it. But if you went back that far, there was no reason not to count the moment her father’s vision cleared for a moment between glasses of Scotch, and he went to the drugstore to pick out a birthday card covered with flowers that said “For My Darling Daughter,” and on the memo line of the enclosed check wrote “Gift.”