Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  From upstairs, she could hear Bri as she dashed around her room, collecting her things for the overnight. The distant, thumping sound reminded Julia of the time last fall, after they had first moved in, when she’d heard rats scampering around inside the walls.

  God! she thought. That feels like years ago.

  She shivered at the memory.

  Of course that thought stirred other memories … of the day she and Frank had met Frenchie down by the harbor … of how happy she was, watching Frank and Bri play checkers … of the pure joy on Frank’s face when they attended church with him on Christmas Eve.

  Before long, Julia’s eyes were brimming with tears.

  And now look at us, she thought, not caring as the tears carved slick tracks down her cheeks.

  Frank is dead … Bri, although she had made one new friend, is still lonely and homesick for Vermont … and John is depressed and quietly fuming with repressed anger, and he’s drinking too much and talking about selling his father’s house …

  “And what about you?” she whispered, cradling her head in her hands. Her breath was sour as it rebounded into her face from her cupped palms. “What the Christ are you going to do about it?”

  Emotions twisted and coiled inside of her … especially when she thought about the baby growing inside her.

  Who do I have growing inside me? she wondered, gently rubbing her lower stomach with both hands.

  For the second time in my life … I’ve got new life growing inside me … and what am I going to do? …

  She found it terribly sad that she was so scared she didn’t dare tell her husband that she was carrying his baby.

  But no matter how much she thought about it, she had no idea what she was going to do.

  Maybe John was right, and they should sell the family home. Back in Vermont, they had jobs and friends and schools and doctors and … everything. They could pick up right where they left off, as if this time on Glooscap Island had been nothing but a short, sad interlude. But now that Frank was dead, she realized she hadn’t planned anything beyond that. Foolishly, she had assumed that Frank would need their help for a long time, and they would be there to give it.

  So … now what?

  No matter what they did, she had the gnawing fear that their lives would never be the same again. Even if they packed up this weekend and moved back to Shelburne Falls, they had lost some things and misused and misplaced others … like affections and emotions. Even more importantly, they were going to have a new baby in their lives. They could never go back to the ay things were after that.

  So far, John didn’t know he was going to be a father for the first time in his life. As much as she despised her own reaction, Julia cringed whenever she thought about telling him she was pregnant. The way he had been acting lately — God! If he’s drunk already at noontime! — she dreaded to find out how he would react —

  With anger? … Hostility? … No doubt!

  Certainly not with joy!

  It cut her to the quick when she realized a negative reaction was all she expected from John.

  When she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was alone, far out to sea, being tossed back and forth by towering waves. The memory of her seasickness the day they had gone lobstering with Randy came back.

  That was exactly how she felt now.

  “It’s the pregnancy,” she whispered softly. “That’s what’s screwing me up! I’ve got to get a doctor’s appointment and get a grip on this.”

  Even as the words came out of her mouth, washing over her hands cuped over her face, she knew that wasn’t it at all.

  She jumped with a start when Bri came clomping down the stairs. Breathless with excitement, she entered the kitchen, her suitcase dragging from one arm and her rolled-up sleeping bag clutched under the other.

  “I’m ready,” she chirped, but then she noticed her mother’s expression and pulled up short.

  “Mom? … Are you all right?” Her face wrinkled with concern.

  Julia forced a smile and nodded.

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “I was just missing Granddad, and ... well, it’s that time of the month for me, so I guess I’m a little on edge emotionally.”

  The lie tasted like acid in the back of her throat, and she thought bitterly, Boy, are you getting good at this lying … It’s downright habitual …

  Bri’s mouth was set in a firm, straight line as she nodded her understanding.

  “Yeah,” she said, “I know exactly what you mean. I’m still not used to Grandad not being here.”

  “Come on,” Julia said. “Let’s not keep Kristin waiting.”

  She picked up the car keys and headed to the front hall closet for her coat. On her way, she paused and looked into the living room. She almost said something to John about where she was going, but even from the side, the scowl that darkened his face forced the words back down her throat. Without another word she walked out to the car with Bri a few steps ahead of her.

  II

  On the drive over to Kristin’s, Julia wished she could tell Bri that there was more to her emotional state than missing Frank or having her period. She was dying to tell her that she was pregnant, and Bri would have a new baby brother or sister in nine months, but she held back because of her personal vow that John would be the first to know … when — and if — the time was ever right.

  When she got back to the house, John met her at the door.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he shouted, his face flushed with anger.

  When Julia told him, he snorted, refilled his glass from the bottle on the counter, and without another word, walked unsteadily back to his place on the couch, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

  And that’s how they spent Saturday night and most of Sunday — John putting the whiskey away until he ran out, then starting on beer; and Julia sitting by herself, usually in the kitchen or silently in a corner of the living room, wishing she could get through to John but knowing she couldn’t … not until this black mood passed … if ever …

  Bri called on Sunday afternoon and asked if she could spend another night at Kristin’s. She could go to school from there. Julia readily agreed.

  “Make sure you come home right after school, though. ‘Kay?” she said.

  All she could think was she didn’t want Bri to see John in his current condition. He would have to stop drinking tonight so he would be able to go to work in the morning. If he didn’t pull himself together soon …

  Well, she wouldn’t think along those lines … not until she absolutely had to.

  Just like on Saturday night, on Sunday night Julia went to bed at her usual time. When she tried to coax John out of his sullen rage, he flared at her and told her to mind her own damned business and leave him alone. Both nights he fell asleep — passed out — on the couch and woke up — came to — sometime early in the morning and crawled upstairs to bed. Both nights Julia, who had finally drifted off to sleep, woke up as he was climbing under the covers, fully clothed. She feigned sleep and lay there in the dark, staring at the gradually lightening ceiling.

  Over the weekend, Julia cried silently to herself more than she had since … probably since her parents died. One thing she and John had always prided themselves on was their communication — both physically and emotionally. They had always been able to talk things through and express themselves with each other.

  But not anymore, Julia thought as tears burned her eyes.

  Not anymore!

  It’s over, you know, a thin voice whispered to her in the dark. If he keeps this up much longer — any longer, you’d better buck up and face it … It’s all over!

  III

  “I feel like such an asshole,” John said.

  He sat at the breakfast table, listlessly stirring his scrambled eggs with his fork and trying to look Julia in the eye. She sat across from him but also kept looking away. Through the kitchen window, the early morning light was thin
and gray. Specks of snow were spitting out of the sky.

  “You were an asshole,” Julia said, her brow tightening as she finally looked at him. “And if you want the goddamned truth, you had me scared out of my mind all weekend.”

  “I — I don’t know …” he said, but then he shook his head and winced from the sudden jolt of pain that shot sparkling light across his vision.

  “You deserve every bit of that hangover,” Julia said. Even though her voice was mild, John knew she meant it.

  Trying not to make any sudden moves, John nodded his agreement.

  “I know ... I know … It’s just that I — I don’t know … once I started drinking at that damned party, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. Look, I jumped down into the well … maybe … I guess I was thinking if I wallowed in it long enough, I’d work come out the other end.”

  “And? … Did you?”

  “I don’t know … I think so.”

  “You better.”

  John’s smirk looked pained, and he narrowed his eyes.

  Should I tell him about the baby now? Julia wondered, feeling a sudden buoyant rush in her lower abdomen.

  Maybe while he’s feeling repentant … this is the best time to hit him with it.

  She cleared her throat but couldn’t do it.

  “You want to talk about it?” she asked, pushing aside — for now — any thoughts of telling him. “What was getting to you so bad?”

  John shrugged and again squinted with pain. His hand holding the fork dropped to the table. His gaze drifted past Julia to the living room doorway. It struck him as strange how overpowering the idea was that, any second now, his father would come rolling into the kitchen in his wheelchair.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his voice hushed. “I mean … everything seems to have piled up all at once ... my father dying, stuff at work — and … just everything.” He almost mentioned his suspicion that she and Randy were having an affair, but he let it drop. The idea seemed ludicrous in the daylight.

  “You feel good enough to go to work?” Julia got up from her chair and, leaning over the sink, looked outside. Since she had last gotten up to check, the gray clouds had thickened and lowered. “The TV news says we might get a pretty hefty storm this afternoon and on into tonight.”

  “I’ve got to get to work,” John said even though he knew Barry wouldn’t mind if he took off a few days — hell, he had practically insisted he take some time off.

  “Pay attention to the forecast, and if it starts getting bad, come home early. No way do I want a repeat of what happened the last time.”

  Neither do I, John thought with a sudden cold rush of panic. He managed to keep his voice even when he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  He got up from the table and came over to her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her tightly against him and gave her a long, lingering kiss. When they separated, he smiled at her and asked, “Forgive me? … Please?”

  Although he was looking right at her and smiling, it was as if there was a thin curtain behind his eyes, veiling his true feelings. His face was as thin and insubstantial as a plastic Halloween mask. And as warm and strong as his embrace was, something about it made her feel cold inside … cold and trapped and desperate …

  “Well?” he said. “Am I?”

  Not really feeling it, and thinking that she wasn’t going to let her guard down that easily —

  Not yet, anyway

  — she nodded and said, “I guess so … But if you ever —” She grabbed him by the arms and squeezed as hard as she could. “If you ever do something like that again …”

  “I know … I know. God, don’t shake me like that! My head is killing me.”

  When he looked up at the clock, his eyes widened.

  “Holy shit! I’ve gotta get a move on.”

  He started toward the closet for his coat, then stopped short.

  “Hey. I just noticed … Where’s Bri? She already leave for school?”

  “She spent the night at Kristin’s and went to school from there.”

  “Oh, yeah ... right,” John said, but his face betrayed that he had no memory of it. He headed for the closet again, saying, “I’ve really got to get going.”

  “Just remember what I said.” Julia shook a warning finger at him as he shrugged into his heavy coat and went to the front door. “If this storm picks up, you get your ass home, pronto!”

  “Don’t worry. I will!”

  IV

  After a minimum of socializing at the coffee urn, where most of the conversation revolved around what everyone had done over the holiday and how drunk some people — especially Barry — got at the party, John managed — with some effort — to throw himself into work, Barry interrupted him briefly to apologize for acting like such an idiot and embarrassing him, but John dismissed him with a wave of the hand, joking that it was exactly what he had expected. John started to feel better simply because he concentrated on a sewer design. It was some kind of refuge from the steady hammering pain in the back of his head that was gradually diminishing.

  By the time lunch rolled around, John noticed that his headache was little more than a dull roar. He was beginning to hope that — as he had told Julia this morning — the worst was over. He was clearing his desk, preparing to leave for lunch, when his intercom buzzed.

  “Yeah?” he said, holding down the TALK button.

  “There’s a Mr. Chadwick to see you,” Ellen, his secretary, said. “I don’t see his name on the appointment book.” Generally Ellen’s voice sounded only slightly tinny over the intercom, but when she said the name Chadwick, her tone suddenly took on the sharp whine of a dentist’s drill.

  John stared long and hard at his finger depressing the button. The fingernail had gone white. He could easily tell Ellen to tell “Mr. Chadwick” that he was busy or that he had left early because of the storm, but then he thought, What the hell? … If we’re really going to clear the air, I might as well start.

  “Uh, tell him I’ll be right out,” John said.

  A few minutes later, John walked into the outer office and, smiling, greeted Randy with a hearty handshake.

  “So, what brings you into town on a day like this?”

  Randy scratched his head, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

  “I had to pick up some engine parts for my boat at Harris’ ‘n I thought I’d swing by ‘n’ see if you were free for lunch. Should I have called first?”

  John considered and then shook his head, forcing himself not to wince when the echoing pain snapped like a string of firecrackers behind his eyes.

  “Oh — no, not at all.” He glanced at his wristwatch, “Let’s zip over to Carbur’s? That’s not far.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Randy said. “You’ll wanna grab your coat. The snow’s starting to pick up.”

  They left the building and walked side-by-side up Fore Street and over to Middle Street. Thick flakes of snow were blowing at an angle, straight into their faces. Already the sidewalks were slick with a few inches of freshly fallen snow. It was marred by a few recent footprints. The wind whistled down the street, and from somewhere there came a low, vibrating hum.

  John and Randy barely spoke as they crossed the street and entered the restaurant. The whole time John was thinking, This is it! … I’m gonna confront him and find out once and for all what the hell’s going on with him and Julia … but he smiled and chatted pleasantly to the waitress as he and Randy sat at a window table and ordered their drinks. As much as he wanted — needed — something strong, John satisfied himself ginger ale. The last thing he wanted to do was cloud his mind.

  “So,” Randy said, leaning back and sipping from the beer he had ordered, “how’ve you folks been doing? Is everyone — you know — okay?”

  “Sure,” John said. “As well as can be expected, considering what’s happened.”

  Randy nodded.

  “I know it can be tough.”

  John noticed
that Randy kept shifting his eyes to the side, never maintaining eye contact for more than a few seconds. The dark weather outside made the soft orange glow inside the restaurant feel warm and comforting, but icy tension filled John’s stomach as he watched his high school friend and waited for an opening to pounce.

  “Actually,” John said, “we’re been thinking about moving.”

  “Off the island?” Randy’s face registered genuine surprise.

  Is that a trace of disappointment on his face? John wondered.

  “Back to Vermont,” John said.

  “Christ!”

  “We only came to help my dad, and now that he’s gone … why stick around?”

  Randy stroked the side of his face, his beard stubble making a harsh sandpaper sound.

  “I thought you guys liked it here,” he said. “‘Specially Julia.”

  Hit him with it now? John thought, his stomach tightening. Ask him straight out if he’s been fucking her?

  But even as the words were forming in his head, the waitress arrived with their sandwiches. Both John and Randy sat in awkward silence as she placed the dishes in front of them, asked if they wanted refills, and left.

  No … Not yet … Better to hit him with those notes about Abby first …

  John waved his hand casually above his head, then took a sip of ginger ale.

  “Nothing but a bunch of rotten memories in that house for all of us, now. I said it right after high school and I’ll say it again now — I can’t wait to get the fuck off that island!”

  Randy leaned an elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. Now — for the first time — he looked long and hard at John as though trying to fathom him. After a moment, he took a bite of sandwich and chewed thoughtfully before speaking.

  “I guess I don’t understand you,” he said, shaking his head.

  “What do you mean?”