Sheltered

by Debra Chapoton

  He heard distant beeping. At first he thought it was the microwave and his mother was up early. Then he heard it again and reevaluated the sound. Cement trucks beeped like that when they ran in reverse. So did other heavy machinery, like city snow plows.

  He stuffed the things he had pulled out of the box back in and closed the lid. He took a quick look around the storage room and spotted his old sled, imagined himself and Megan wrapped together on it, flying down the toboggan hill at the park. Then he spotted something better peeking out from behind the sled.

  ***

  Megan left Cori to stew in her room and went back down to get Emily. She found her coming out of Chuck’s room.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “He threw up. I walked him back to bed . . . covered him up.” Emily sounded stronger and definitely possessive towards Chuck.

  Megan took a quick look in the bedroom, watched the blanketed form rise and fall with regular breathing.

  She followed Emily up the stairs. “And what about you, Em? How do you feel?”

  “Emily. Call me Emily.” Her tone held unusual force, with a measure of resentment.

  Megan waited for an answer, but Emily said nothing until they reached the kitchen. She turned to Megan then, her eyes contrite, her mouth downturned. “I’m okay. Thanks . . . for last night.”

  “You should see someone,” Megan began. She reached on top of the refrigerator and pulled down the card she had removed from Emily’s jeans the night before. “Here. This was in your pocket. I know this lady. She can help you . . . you know . . . with your problem. You should call her.”

  Emily took the card with both hands and played with the edges, keeping her eyes down, mumbling, “Sure, okay.” She started moving away. “I’ll . . . I’ll just pray that she comes over. My, um, my phone doesn’t work.”

  Megan ignored the remark and continued, “Em, uh, Emily. You should give me your razors, okay? Will you give me your razors?” Her voice rose in the gentlest of ways, coaxing, as if she were speaking to a child.

  Emily tilted her head, strands of hair sticking to the corners of her mouth. She brushed them aside, wiped at her eyes, too, and answered, “If you leave.” She left a stunned Megan standing alone in the kitchen, quite taken aback. Emily hobbled to the first floor bathroom and locked herself in.

  ***

  It took Ben twice as long to make the short drive, but it wasn’t so bad that a school bus couldn’t have run its route. If the district had only delayed the opening of school by two hours they could have had most of their classes. The city was quite efficient in clearing away the excess snow, though there were great piles down the center of Main Street, making the left turn lanes non-existent. Traffic moved slowly even where it didn’t need to.

  He parked in front of the house and got out, laden down with boots, skates, and the shovel. He left the shovel outside but tossed the other items down on top of the mess of shoes and boots at the kitchen entryway.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” he sang out as he entered. “Santa is here.” He hung his coat on a peg and entered the kitchen to find Megan coming in from the dining room. He gave her the biggest smile ever. It was easy – as soon as he saw her he felt good.

  She smiled back and then her face grew grim.

  “How’s Emily?” he asked. He crossed the kitchen and the two of them gravitated to the living room as they spoke.

  “Better. She slept on the couch. You’ll never guess who stood guard over her all night.”

  “Cori?” Ben was incredulous. He sat on the couch and Megan sat next to him, her left leg curled underneath, her knee touching his.

  “Nope, though Cori and I stayed up late talking. She’s not so bad.”

  “So Chuck watched her all night?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s unbelievable. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

  “That’s debatable. Cori discovered a secret passageway that Chuck has used to go from his room up to the attic. She thinks he’s been spying on her from there.”

  “What!” Ben half rose from the couch. He was ready to check out Chuck’s room for himself.

  “Wait, sit down. I’ll show you later. He had a . . .an episode. Not the epilepsy thing, but Emily said he threw up. He’s sick or something.”

  “And where are Emily and Cori now?”

  “In their rooms.”

  “So . . .” Ben leaned back, grinned. “We need some stress relief around here. Wanna go skating?”

  “Oh my gosh, Ben, besides the fact that I don’t own any ice skates, how is skating going to solve any problems here?”

  He sat forward, grabbed her hand. “Come on. I’ll show you. I brought you some boots and some ice skates. Hopefully they’ll fit.” They both stood up. “We can walk to the park and that will give us time to talk out the problems. Then we skate and have fun. Come back . . . fix the problems . . . voilà. Everything’s back to normal.”

  His innocent desire beamed like sunlight. He squeezed her hand and leaned forward, bent closer and kissed her gently. Her lips were the softest he had ever felt. He opened his eyes and drew back a few millimeters, enjoyed her breath on his wet lips, and then kissed her again. She squirmed her hand out of his and put both arms around his neck. He, in turn, encircled her back with his arms.

  This is good, he thought. He put a little pressure on her back, wanting to tug her down to the couch, but she stood firm.

  “Ben . . .” she whispered.

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve never skated.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  He pulled back and grinned. “This is gonna be fun.”

  Emily knew the moment that Ben returned. She watched him carry some things to the house, heard the door close; she smiled when she heard him call out that Santa was here. He did that once before, in early December, insisting that she accept the gift he held out, not wanting her to wait until Christmas to use the mittens he knew she needed.

  She went toward her door now, wondered what he had brought, and then heard Megan’s voice below. Oh no, he probably brought something for her. She scuttled back to her nest by the window and stared outside, was still staring fifteen minutes later when she saw them walk down the street, Ben shouldering a shovel like a fishing pole, his other hand knotted with Megan’s.

  She touched the skin on her arms, lightly at first, making it tingle. The image of Ben with Megan multiplied across her mind in broken mirrors, a repugnant picture that reflected her own self-loathing. She scratched at her scabs, felt the pricks of pain force away the tickling. How ticklish she used to be. She pinched her eyes closed, tried to remember her brother’s face, his laugh when she would tickle him under the arms or grab his foot and threaten to run her nails along his sole.

  As quickly as the image appeared in her head it vanished, replaced by a vision as real as any she’d ever had: she saw Megan in Ben’s arms.

  When she opened her eyes she saw a figure standing at her door. Her first thought was of the fat man that Cori had levitated, but this faceless intruder was smaller, and growing smaller as she blinked.

  “Who– ?” she started, but the figment waned to less than a shadow. Still, though, there was something at her door. Was this some dreamy fear come to haunt her waking hours? To taunt a rejected Emily?

  She rose slowly and held her hand out, tracking it back and forth as if she were swatting away invisible spider webs, feeling for a wisp of something real. Had she caught Chuck’s illness? Had some infection spread from her bloody razor cuts to her mind?

  The image returned, barred the door with its shadowy presence. Its face was more womanly now, friendly, motherly. Yes, she knew this face. Its pearly white skin so shocking against the ruby lips, the stringy hair a match to her own. Her mother. The woman who had abandoned her. The woman who had left town with her brother and told Emily she was on her own. The woman who gave her a hundred dollars and told her good luck.

  She stretched her f
ingers toward the face. It wasn’t so motherly now. She hated that face. So full of lies. But Emily herself wasn’t much different. She had invented crazy lies and told them all to Ben. So many hours he had wasted with her, searching for a family that Emily knew they’d never find, not anywhere near here.

  The hallucination faded then sharpened. The eyes began to blaze as she came too close. She drew her hands back to her own face and slapped her cheeks. Why is this happening? What’s wrong with me? Her mother’s eyes were scorching through to her soul, the light behind the eyes reflecting the red flurries of hell. The rest of her face was too white, the lines hard like drawn wires. The delusion grieved Emily; all around her fluttered a longing.

  And a deadly fear.

  “Mom?” Emily sank to the floor and watched the face change to a silhouette, fogging away with a Cheshire grin, and then, at last, evaporating.

  ***

  “There,” Ben announced when he finished shoveling a small area on the park rink. They were the only ones there, but their privacy wouldn’t last for long. The sun was out, the snow sparkled, and the temperature was a few degrees above freezing. Every kid in the area would be here before long. No wind, no wind chill – a perfect winter day.

  Megan was waiting on a bench he had brushed off with his gloves. Two pairs of skates, laces tied together, leaned against each other on the edge of the ice. Megan shivered, more with excitement than the cold.

  Ben planted the shovel in a mound of snow and motioned Megan to join him.

  “Don’t we need to put on our skates first?” She crinkled her nose and cocked her head, swaying a few strands of hair that stuck out from under her knitted hat.

  “This is how my dad started me out. Boot skating. It’s simple and you’ll get the feel for slipping and balancing and all that. Come on.”

  Megan’s first cautious step onto the ice was met with a huge grin on Ben’s part though she didn’t see it. She kept her eyes down, took a few more steps, and looked up.

  “Piece of cake,” she said. One more step and she slipped backwards. “Ow!”

  Ben was at her side immediately with apologies and strong arms. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess so.” She let him lift her to her feet. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I can be pretty klutzy.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never skated.”

  “Oh, I’ve roller-bladed, but this is so slippery.” She leaned into him and let him lead her around the rink.

  “Well, if you’ve roller-skated then you probably have the balancing skill already. It’ll just be the slipping and sliding that you’ll have to master.” He began his instructions, reaching back into his happy memories to teach her little tricks he’d learned. When he thought she was ready they returned to the bench and put on their skates.

  Ben knelt down in front of her to lace her skates as tight as possible. “They’re a little big, aren’t they? We should have brought extra socks.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Megan smiled. She held her arms out like a child waiting to be lifted up and Ben offered a strong and steady arm.

  She caught on faster than she expected, but she never let go of Ben. From clutching his arm to holding his hand to letting him push her with both of his hands on her waist, they soon found the small area he had cleared was too cramped. He encouraged her to keep practicing while he shoveled off a larger area. Neither of them noticed Cori when she tromped down the middle of the street on her way to town.

  ***

  Emily was still on the floor, her back to the window, when she heard the chimes. It took a moment for her to realize that the ringing was the front doorbell. Someone must have trudged up the sidewalk. Kids, most likely, wanting to earn some money by shoveling porches and driveways.

  The bell rang again followed by insistent knocking. Not kids.

  Cori was probably going to ignore it and Chuck, well, Chuck wasn’t going to get out of bed today.

  Three more knocks.

  It was up to Emily to go to the door. She tried to control her steps down to the living room, swayed and leaned and almost bent over double before she reached the front door.

  She could see the back of a brown hat through the window. And then the lady turned.

  And saw Emily.

  It was the lady from the store, the one who gave her the card, the lady that Megan knew. Emily suffered two disconcerting emotions before making a deliberate decision.

  She opened the door.

  “Oh, hello! I recognize you,” the lady said. “Do you live here, too? I’m here to talk to Megan. May I come in?”

  Emily stepped back and allowed the smiling steam roller of a woman to stomp forth.

  “Well, I’m Mrs. Beridon and like I said I’m here to speak with Megan.” She pulled her gloves off. “Are you all right, dear?”

  Emily inched back further, answered with an ambiguous shake of her head. She strained for an honest word.

  “Is Megan here now? I know there’s no school so I was sure I could catch her. They didn’t call her in to work, did they? That doesn’t seem likely.” Mrs. Beridon droned on. Her words buzzed out of her mouth like sharp teething grinding on bones, her eyes flitting around corners, seeing through walls.

  Emily’s slow denial didn’t faze Mrs. Beridon. The woman kept speaking, “I have some news for Megan. It’s important. Is she here?”

  “No. Gone.” Emily’s elevated gaze fixed on the snow outside the dining room window.

  “Oh . . . well, does she have her phone with her? I don’t have her number.” She started digging through her purse for paper and pen. “Maybe you could tell me her phone number?” She found what she needed and waited for Emily to rattle off the numbers.

  Emily put her index finger between her teeth and chewed on a nail. Her sleeve slipped down a tad. She dropped her hand and tucked both fists under her arms. “I . . . don’t know her number.”

  “Hmm. Well, is it written down somewhere?” Mrs. Beridon took an optimistic step forward, looked toward the kitchen.

  Emily shook her head with troubled detachment, the corners of her mouth drooped and her eyes remained dispassionate. She saw Mrs. Beridon move toward her, drop her purse and use both hands to hold her up; she heard the subdued tones of reassurances, but they were phrases that meant nothing to her brain. She could not translate the syllables that tumbled from the woman’s mouth, yet she knew they were spoken in her own language, not some foreign tongue. But not a single word made sense.

  Not a single word . . . but now she felt, for an instant, the strength that squeezed her shoulders. The woman was pulling her and making her stumble toward the living room. She focused on the winter coat, the third button, the four tiny holes, the frayed end of a thread. She was seated now, felt a shaking on her arms, knew her head was bobbing, but she saw nothing. All was black. All was silent.

  ***

  Mrs. Beridon prayed for help. If only she could remember the girl’s name. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and imagined the name tag clipped to the clerk’s shirt. Emily!

  “Emily!” She shook her harder. “Emily! Stay with me.” She grasped her arms harder and looked around at the dingy green walls, wondered who else lived here. She called out for help, but the hum of the refrigerator was the only answer.

  ***

  Megan fell into the snow bank, laughing. This was the best day of her life. The. Best. Day.

  Ben skated away as if he were chasing a puck. He weaved and dodged around imaginary opponents, skated backwards, stopped so sharply he sent flares of ice chips flying, and then raced back to where she sat beaming at him.

  He flashed a one-dimpled smile back, tried not to give her the full grin, and then twisted himself as he plopped down into the snow next to her.

  “Wow,” she fawned, “you should play professional hockey.”

  The full grin escaped. “Yeah, right. I’m not even good enough to make a college team.”

  “I think you are.” She crinkled her nose at him, no lo
nger self-conscious of her freckles. She wished he’d move closer and he did. Pin pricks of exhilaration danced through her body. He was going to kiss her again. Each time today that he kissed her she had willed away the old stabs of fear, evicted them by design, and allowed herself the carefree thrill that erased all thought. Each time the kisses had multiplied, the brief interludes had lengthened, and the excitement had added to the glorious day.

  He kissed her.

  Time stopped again. His touch warmed her, spiked her erratic pulse, and melted her fears. His lips brushed hers with no more insistence than a feather and yet there was a restless pleasure that electrified her and stirred more than one emotion. The cold silence framed them in a motionless picture.

  Ben pulled back and gave her a toe-tingling smirk.

  What? she mouthed. He pulled her into a hug and whispered in her ear. She memorized the unexpected words: you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. His breath was like licks of flame on her neck, potent and completely unnerving.

  She pulled back and looked in his eyes; one pesky dimple made another brief appearance. She was completely smitten. She realized how much she cared what he thought, how important he had become to her, and how much what he had said meant. She stared into his eyes and wondered if he could see to the very depths of her soul, too.

  She whispered back the same phrase, he was the best thing in her life, too, and then shivered at the realization that she had so quickly and easily put him above Simon.

  “Are you cold?” Ben wrapped his arms around her. “Maybe we should skate some more. Come on, one more time. You’re getting really good at this.”