Marsha opened her mouth to speak but was unable to give the jumble of her thoughts voice. Instead she said simply, "We need to keep going." Then without waiting for her daughter's response she started down the path. Erin watched her retreat for a moment, and then caught up.
The ensuing silence weighed them down like an invisible anchor. As their tension increased, the sense of being watched grew exponentially. As the minutes dragged by, it was Erin who broke the silence first. "You were right."
"I was right about what?" Marsha's spoke with strained control.
"This place . . . definitely knows how to push my buttons."
"Yes," Marsha said slowly. "That was unexpected."
"After all these years, I never expected to have such a reaction over a simple pair of shoes."
Marsha shook her head. "It wasn't a simple pair of shoes. It was those shoes."
Erin moved without thinking. She grabbed her mother by the shoulders with more force than was necessary. "You don't mean . . .”
Marsha nodded. "They were the exact same pair of shoes."
"Mom, how do you know?" demanded Erin.
Marsha shrugged. "How do you breathe? How do you think? It just happens. Like that, I just know."
Erin's eyes bulged in horror. "But how can that be? I threw them in the garbage after . . ." She looked up at her mother, tears beginning to glisten in her gaze.
"This is a place of discarded things. If you throw something away, it is theirs for the taking."
Marsha looked off into the distance. "We should keep going. They’re trying to rattle us."
"It's working." Erin said following close behind.
"I know," said Marsha.
For some time they slowly continued on their way through the winding path in watchful silence.
"Momma?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Should we, I don't know, talk about that day when . . . you . . . when we fought?" Marsha continued forward for several steps contemplating her question. "Momma?" Erin prompted.
Marsha sighed heavily. "I don't know, Erin. This might not be the time. We . . . we have so much to deal with now."
Erin snorted despite herself. "Understatement if I ever heard one. But, seeing those shoes, particularly those shoes, stirred up so much. I feel something weighing on me."
Marsha sighed again. "I know. I can feel it too. I was hoping that we could leave it alone so we could focus on finding Evan. But I'm beginning to think that we won’t be able to until we deal with it. What you are feeling, that sadness and anger, that darkness that's boiling up within you, it fuels the power for the evil forces. I think they are using it to prolong our journey to your son."
"Wait a minute. You're saying that the powers that be are using that creepy feeling that I'm feeling to somehow power up this twisted water park?"
"Correct," Marsha said flatly. "I can still sense Evan's location, but from what I can ascertain, we’re not getting any closer to him."
"I don't know what to think about that."
"I believe I do. The fact is, what happened between us all those years before was my fault."
"What! Really?" Erin shook her head at this development. The imposing woman that she had once known had never admitted to any fault. She had maintained her dignified sense of self-righteousness literally to her dying day.
"Yes, and it was your fault too."
Erin looked at her indignantly. "How can you say it was my fault?"
Marsha responded calmly. "Do you really think either one of us could be considered blameless?"
“I was just a kid! I could hardly be-”
“You were fourteen years old.” Marsha interjected. “You were young, yes, but not innocent. You were just as responsible for your actions as I was for mine.”
“Could you really blame me?” snapped Erin.
Marsha's tone remained calm. “I don’t blame you Erin. As I’ve said before, I forgave you long ago, shortly after you stormed out, in fact. I had every intention of apologizing and working it out with you the next day, but . . .”
Erin nodded slowly, "It was too late by then. Far too late. Mom, how did we ever get to that place? You and I were so volatile towards the end."
“Yes, we were. I blame myself for so much of it,” said Marsha. “You were always so headstrong and independent growing up. Don't even get me started on how oppositional you were. If I told you left you would say right. Up, you would say down. No and . . .”
“I would always say yes,” Erin finished with a smirk. “Gee, I wonder who else we know that has such a lovely trait?”
"Yes, I wonder," Marsha smiled back at her daughter. "That was our trouble, we were so much alike. I was always trying to rein you, in instead of giving you the guidance that you needed. And the more I tried to control you, the more you would balk against it. Thus, we always found ourselves in an escalating battle of wills."
"Growing up, I saw you as such a domineering figure," Erin admitted.
"Well yes, but I don't want you to sell yourself so short. You were pretty formidable yourself. Your relationship with your father was so . . . effortless. I must admit that I was jealous of your relationship with him."
"I could see that."
"By the time you became a teenager, the rift between us had grown too wide for either of us to bridge easily."
Erin nodded somberly. "Then you were diagnosed with uterine cancer."
Marsha sighed. "After that, I was so scared and in so much pain. It was so confusing and paradoxical. I wanted to lash out at everyone, but I also yearned to be comforted at the same time. I know I was much harsher on you than anyone else."
Erin stared at her feet as she stepped over a small pile of leaves. "Yes, you were." Erin looked at the ground as memories of her mother's more brutal side flickered before her mind’s eye.
She remembered her mother yelling at her when she was six for not cleaning her room correctly. Marsha, once withheld a hug after Erin had accidentally cut herself when she broke a glass and spilled grape juice on the carpet. There were her mother’s innumerable complaints about the physical and emotional traits Erin lacked, taking for granted the ones that she did possess. The love Marsha showed always felt sparse and conditional.
"Even then I realized my mistakes, but I didn’t know how to fix them. I knew I had to try something . . . anything. I think I knew on some level that my time was growing short. That’s why I tried to reach out to you on that fateful autumn day."
Erin cringed as the memory struck her.
"It didn’t go as I had intended," Marsha said with quiet remorse.
"I remember," Erin choked. Her mind drifted back to fifteen years before on a day she had tried not to contemplate at all. The memory had become an itchy scab, and her thoughts picked at it so much that it had become a hard jagged scar that marred the reflection of her self-worth.
"I remember looking in my mirror wearing that skimpy swimsuit and those shoes. I thought they made me look sexy. I stared at my butt thinking I looked like I was at least twenty years old." Erin blushed as she spoke.
"That was the problem. You were only fourteen years old, you were my baby. You shouldn't have looked that old. You simply did not have the emotional maturity to handle that kind of attention," remembered Marsha.
"Well of course I know that now, but then I thought that I could handle anything that life threw at me. Boy was that theory disproved in a hurry."
"I think my biggest mistake that night was not giving you the simple courtesy of knocking before invading your space. If I had just respected your need for privacy, I think much of what followed could have been avoided."
Erin thought about it. "You're probably right."
There was her fourteen-year-old self, admiring her blossoming feminine form in the mirror.
Before she could react her door had creaked open, putting her on full display. “Young lady!” her mother's voice screeched. "Just what do you think you are wearing?"
Marsha in
ternally grimaced. The harsh words had rushed out of her unbidden and unwanted, but the reflex took over before her desire for self-control and understanding could rein them in. It occurred to her to quickly apologize before this escalated, but she banished the idea as a weak sentiment.
Erin whirled around, grabbing a towel to hide herself from her intruder. Recognition gave way into embarrassment, anger, and unrepentant resentment. She was having a private moment admiring her growing beauty. How dare her mother barge in and ruin the sanctum of this moment?
Marsha balked, her desire for increased understanding now obliterated as her own rage countered that of her daughter's flush of anger. "This is my house, never mind what I'm doing in here! What are you doing wearing . . . that?"
"It's my room and my body! I can wear whatever I want in here!" Erin screeched back.
"You will not wear that in my house!" Marsha snarled. "I won’t have any daughter of mine going around acting like a common street hooker!"
Erin's eyes bulged. If words could scald, she would have melted to the floor. In truth, a vital part of her did. Was that really what her mother saw when she had looked at her? Did she see a piece of human trash instead of a young girl who was growing to beautiful woman? Tears began to burn at the edge of her vision. Rage took rabid control over her being and she willed her eyes dry.
“Better to look like a whore than a holocaust survivor!” she snapped back acidly. “What's the deal with the wig, mom? You're not fooling anyone!" Erin flung her hands to her mouth as she gasped at the severity of her reaction. Did she really just say that? They both froze as they stared at each other.
Marsha sagged back against the doorframe as if she were physically struck. She stared down at the floor. Self-consciously, she touched the wig on her head as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
Neither said a word as moments stretched before them into what felt like an eternity. In that time, Erin became very afraid. She could feel that the invisible, once precious tether between them had snapped. They were now cast adrift from one another, the tides of their hearts drawing them apart.
When Marsha finally looked up at her daughter, the anger she had felt only moments ago had vanished. Her face was gray and her lip trembled as she looked at her only child with soft wet eyes. Erin could recognize her mother’s broken heart in her eyes. “Momma, I . . .”
Marsha held up her hand, “Don’t.” She let her hand fall in defeat, “I don’t know who you are.” Her speech was low as if it cost something to speak. She shook her head. “I don’t think I want to know.” Holding the doorframe as if she no longer had the strength to support herself, her mother turned and walked out of the room without another word. Moments later, Erin heard the soft click of her parents’ bedroom door.
Erin gasped as the scene ebbed away. “What was that?” She looked around wildly as she was back in the twisted water park. Marsha was looking at her with sadness and concern. “That was a remembering. It takes you back to re-experience a moment from the past.”
Erin burst into tears. “There aren’t many times in my life that I want to experience less than that! How dare they put us through that!”
“They didn’t, Erin,” Marsha said slowly. “I did.”
“You! Why would you do such a thing?” Erin cried.
“It wasn’t easy for me, either. I experienced it just as you did. Exactly as you did. I’m sorry, I had no desire to put either of us through that again, but it was necessary.”
"Necessary? How was reliving the most painful moment in my life necessary? Do you know how many times I’ve wished I could take back those words, how many times I’ve wished I could apologize to you? How I wanted to tell you how truly sorry I was the moment those words came out of my stupid mouth? Why mom? Why did we have to relive that, right up to every excruciating detail?"
Marsha didn’t meet her eyes. Instead she stared up at the faded orb of the sun as it descended below the top of the nearest tower slide. “I’m sorry I had to. Time isn’t on our side, and we would not be able to move on until we faced it. Now, please remember what happened next.”
“I banged around the house grabbing my purse and stomping down the stairs in those stupid shoes. I don’t think I truly realized it, but I was hoping you would come out of you room to confront me about all the commotion I was making. I didn’t admit it myself for a long time, but wanted you to yell at me or ground me or something. I certainly felt like I deserved it. No matter how loud I was, you never appeared.”
Marsha nodded. “I heard you moving around the house, and I kept hoping that you would come to my room itching for another round. It wouldn’t have been that unusual for you. But you never did come. When I heard the outside door slam shut, I burst into tears.”
Erin averted her eyes. “So did I. I cried all the way to my friend’s house. Somehow I managed to bottle it all up by the time I met up with them. Then she and I and few more friends went to that stupid waterpark. What a dumb idea. It was so late in the season and so cloudy. The place was virtually empty and the water was so cold, and thanks to that stupid outfit and shoes I received more attention than I was in the mood for. I was miserable. No matter how I tried to distract myself, all I could think of was our fight. The guilt of it gnawed at me. Within a couple of hours I had decided to go home and apologize to you and beg for your forgiveness,” Erin admitted.
“That was what I wanted to do as well, but then I had an excruciating headache that came on and forced me into bed,” said Marsha.
“I remember. You were asleep when I came home that night. I told myself I would talk everything over with you in the morning, but . . .”
“Your chance never came,” Marsha filled in.
She shook her head. “No, it didn’t. I woke to Dad screaming. I rushed into your room and . . .” Tears began to fall and Erin’s face crumpled with remorse. “I saw the way he was . . . holding you. You were so . . . still, so pale, and I knew in that moment that that those were the last words I would ever say to you. It rocked me to my very core. I was sad and so very ashamed. I hated myself after that.”
“I know. For a long time after that, you went down a dark path. I know it was a very painful time for you. I would never choose for you to be here, and I’m truly sorry that you have to experience this. However, for whatever it’s worth, I am thankful to know that those will no longer be the last words that we will say to each other. I love you, Erin.”
Erin smiled and wiped her eyes. “I love you too, Momma.”
Marsha smiled at her then she looked away in concentration. “It looks like we managed to break the force’s spell. They can no longer keep us from reaching Evan.”
She clutched her chest. “They can’t?”
Marsha waved her to follow. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get my grandson. He’s much closer now.”
She urged her forward. “Take me to him!”
A moment later, they rounded a corner of one of the broken-down shops. It opened to an expansive leaf-strewn patio area. In the center of the patio was a huge pool with water just as putrid and bog-like as the lazy river that fed into it. In the dead center of the pool was a concrete island covered with random piles of rotting leaves and debris.
“There.” Marsha pointed at the concrete island.
Erin’s eyes focused. In the center of the island lay Evan’s very still form.
Chapter Six
The Island
"I have to get him!” She started forward, eyes locked on her son.
Marsha's iron grip slapped down on her wrist. “Wait!"
Erin spun around, looking at her mother with a mixture of confusion and defiance. "What are you doing?"
Marsha pointed at the murky water. "You cannot go into the pool all willy-nilly like that."
"I don't care about the gross water! I want my son!"
Marsha’s face softened. With a strained voice she said, "Erin. Honey. It's not the water. It's what dwells within its depths."
"What?” Er
in breathed as she fixed her eyes on the pool. At that moment, she caught the hint of a ripple as something moved below the surface.
"What was that?"
They’re same creatures that are hiding in the tea cups and lazy river. I told you this place is riddled with them. We have to be careful. Their evil touch feels just like the one of the shadow dweller I rescued you from. You can think of them as its spawn.
"So if they touch me, it will be like before? The pain will be the same?"
"Yes. And then they will drown you,” Marsha said grimly.
"So," Erin began, "how are we going to get my Evan back safely?"
Marsha shook her head sadly. “Not we, sweetie. You.”
Erin looked at her confused. “I don’t understand.”
The older woman sighed. “I can’t cross the border of the pool. Like the threshold of the doorway earlier, there’s an invisible barrier that I cannot cross. In order to save him, you will have to go to him on your own.”
Erin’s eyes bulged with mounting horror. “You won’t help me at all?”
Marsha shook her head. “I never said that. I’m going to do everything in my power to help you.”
“So how can I swim to him without those things dragging me or Evan under?” Erin asked. She looked up at the quickly darkening sky. The gray orb of the sun had sunk halfway down the skeletal remains of the tower slide. The shadows it cast merged with the surface of the water’s inky depths.
“We will have to be smart about it.” Marsha looked around. She pointed. “I think I have an idea.”
Erin looked over at where she was pointing and nodded. “I think I get what you’re implying. It’s not much, but it’s at least something.”
The two of them approached a small fenced-in area a short distance from the pool. Within it were piles of dilapidated and partially-inflated inner tubes. They began to quickly gather together the rings of faded blue and green flotation toys. They gathered them on the edge of the pool, after which they stacked them in an interlocking pile that made the semblance of a raft. The deflated nature of the tubes helped them to remain together.
Leaves and Shadows Page 4