by Nancy Widrew
“Are you hungry, little one?” she said. “Mommy will go eat your breakfast for you.” She rose, using her hands and knees for leverage, cognizant of the extra weight, and headed toward the kitchen. After downing a bowl of cereal and a big chunk of freshly made bread, she mixed another glass of powdered milk. While careful to drink the full amount, she crinkled her nose, gulping it quickly, having never adjusted to its watery taste.
She checked her watch, still ticking after all these months, unlike Jeremy’s which had gotten soaked at the Thanksgiving picnic. Time to get to work.
The first item on her agenda was the one she regretted the most: saying good-bye to her mushrooms. After reuniting with Jeremy, she had returned to Suburbia, instead of sleeping among her fungal family.
She walked along the narrow passage, hands out sideways gauging the thick earthen walls which glittered with golden flecks, reminding her of freckles. “Fleckles,” she said, pausing to laugh while making a mental note to check a dictionary to see if there was such a word. She flicked off a chunk of the glistening silt and considered wrapping it in tissue for safekeeping—for the day when this place would be no more than a memory. “No,” she said, concluding it best to leave all traces behind; instead she exhaled puffs of air against the fleckles in her palm, watching as they dropped to the ground.
She continued on with heavy steps, vacillating between fear and uncertainty. As she felt the power of once more becoming master of her fate, her body gained strength and she called out a “Yesss,” stretching the word, repeating it as she marched. With her arm and leg muscles contracting and relaxing, flexing and extending, she finished the walk exuberated, like a jogger out for a run and arrived at the garden before her assigned helpers, Rachel and Helene, arrived.
Following her suggestion at the last community meeting, two people regularly assisted, but Rachel often spent the early hours attending to the altar and cleaning up after the night’s debauchery, or perhaps mixing a new batch of royal jelly; as for Helene, she was probably in bed.
Karen lit all the lanterns. She hadn’t done this in months since she, without realizing it, had adapted to the darkness and found two or even one sufficient. Now, however, she wanted to see the garden the same as she did when Rachel first brought her here, and like the director of a play, she stood back to take in the scene, holding her breath as the lights shimmered off the walls. She looked again and realized it wasn’t only the lights shimmering, but also her mushrooms as they glowed like gems and danced with an élan vital, narrowing and stretching their length, insisting on her attention.
Karen began to sway in sync with the fungal dancers, her body turning in half-circles across the room. Feeling dizzy and afraid she might fall, she sat on the ground to witness the rest of this spectacle. For the first time, she understood Rachel’s religious fervor, knowing that no one could comprehend her connection to her special friends as they spoke to her in one commanding voice, resonating in her head.
Stay, they said.
“I can’t,” she answered.
Please, they said. We love you.
Karen covered her ears. “I love you too, but I have to go.”
No, they hissed, suddenly angry and sending out tiny shock waves to Karen’s skin. She ran her hands along her arms, the hairs stiff and fiery.
The mushrooms became alarmed and began to shrink in size, ashamed of their behavior. Still, they weren’t about to give up and called in new recruits from the beds below that tried a different tact, rocking and nodding their caps with the offer of initiation. Join us, they said, working their spell.
Karen wavered and once again the mushrooms grew tall, until—
“Enough,” said Karen, with a steadfast shake of her head.
They huddled among themselves, murmuring words she couldn’t understand. Then caps held high and staring directly at her, they tried one final approach, a play on her sympathy. We need you, they begged. Don’t leave us.
“I have to. I must. But don’t worry. Others will care for you.”
Defeated, they dropped down to size. It won’t be the same. It won’t be the same …
Karen wiped her cheeks and swallowed the lump in her throat. The effort did little good since she found herself whimpering, but hearing footsteps she grew quiet and sent out her voice. Finding its mark, it bounced off a small, solid object. A fraction of that energy returned as an image which she, in turn, interpreted as Rachel. The whole process took less than a second.
Hearing Karen’s cry along with seeing the numerous glowing lights just beyond, Rachel stepped up her pace. “Something wrong?” she asked, coming in from dark.
Karen thought quickly. “No. Just pregnancy hormones. I wanted to arrive early. Make sure everything’s okay.”
“And is it?”
“Uh, yes, although rows five and six look a little dry and we’re getting low on guano.”
Taking it as a criticism, Rachel scowled, although the attempt made her look more funny than threatening. “Well, if you had to work with Helene, you’d be behind too. Do you know what time she got here yesterday?”
Karen shrugged, asked the obvious. “What time?”
“Just before lunch. And then as soon as she got one little nail dirty”—she paused to raise a symbolic finger, sticking it in front of Karen’s face—“she said she was hungry. She’s thoughtless and lazy and makes it harder for everyone else. I’m sick of that woman.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“Are you kidding? Of course, I have. And you can see what good it’s done.” Rachel threw up her hands in exasperation.
“I’m sorry,” said Karen, patting her belly. “I wish I could do more.”
Rachel softened. “It’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. Just tell me what else needs to get done.”
“Um, beds one and two look like they need mycelium.”
“I was gonna do that today.”
“I can help with that; there’s not much work involved.”
“No. Definitely not. There’ll be plenty of time for you to help later.”
“Okay,” said Karen. “In that case, I’ll start my lesson plans for the boys, but first I’ll have my own talk with Helene.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“You’re probably right, but what the hell? I might as well give it a try.” She turned to go but shifted her weight to the other leg and raised a hand to her chin, hesitating. Searching around the cavernous space as if she had lost something, she scanned the mushrooms until she settled on one in particular with a large bulbous head. Karen mumbled, “You do understand, don’t you?”
Rachel looked up. “What did you say?”
Karen jumped, her cheeks turned pink. “Sorry. Just talking to myself. Guess I’d better be going.” This time she left without stopping.
#
Just as expected, Karen found Helene, all by herself, curled up under the covers. David had left earlier to help Rahm and Brian with the new trenches. Although he also had a reputation for self-indulgence, he couldn’t compete with Helene. No one could.
Compressing her mouth in a slit of annoyance, Karen reached down and yanked hard on the frayed corner of a blanket. Helene sat up immediately.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“Yes. What’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else by now?”
Helene grunted, grabbed the blanket, and pulled it up to her neck. “Since when do you make the rules?”
“I don’t, but I know what they are: no work, no food. I seem to remember Rahm saying that once. Maybe I’ll have a talk with him.”
Helene scrambled to her feet, fully naked, her slim body a sharp contrast to Karen’s round one. Each looked at the other, taking in the difference.
“Just ’cause you’re pregnant, you think you can do whatever you want. Well, I’ve got news for you, you fat cow.” She stuck out her tongue, almost adding a verbal childish taunt but reconsidered. “You’re rea
lly not going to tell him, are you?”
Karen, too amused with Helene’s antics to stay angry, said, “If I have to I will, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary. Rachel will probably do it first. Oh, by the way, I assigned you the best job this week: gathering the guano. Norman’s too busy to do it. You may get your hands dirty. Too bad!”
Helene curled her fingers, digging her nails into her palms. “Go ahead,” she shrieked. “Laugh at me. They all do. Why should you be different?” She let out a wail, catching Karen off balance.
“I wasn’t laughing at you,” said Karen, suddenly ashamed. “At least, I didn’t think I was.”
“I know what they say. I pretend I don’t hear, but I do. They all think I’m good for nothing but sex, but I’m not even good for that.” Her lips began to quiver as she stared at Karen’s belly. “One, two, three and you’re pregnant. I-I hate you.”
Karen blanched. “I don’t even want this baby,” she said, no longer sure if it were true. In any case, Helene was crying too hard to hear.
“I got my period this morning,” she moaned as if mourning the death of a loved one. “I’m sorry I ever came to this miserable place. If it wasn’t for David, I’d try to leave; even he doesn’t give a shit about me. No one ever has. It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” Slumping over, she scooped up clothes from a nearby pile and buried her face in them.
Taken aback, Karen sank down beside the troubled woman, who suddenly seemed more of an ally than a foe. “You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s not fair.”
Helene looked up, slowly breathed in and out, easing the tension. “What should I do?”
“Keeping busy works best for me.”
Helene’s mood shifted and she wrapped her arms around Karen’s neck, clinging like a helpless child. “I really don’t hate you,” she said. “And I’m sorry I called you a fat cow.”
“I know you didn’t mean it,” said Karen, returning the hug. “It’s too bad we met under these circumstances. Maybe somewhere, someplace else we could have been friends.” She pulled away and impulsively added a kiss to Helene’s face. As usual, Helene was too absorbed in her own problems to notice anything amiss, and Karen walked off with a good-bye under her breath, suspecting this would be her first and last heart-to-heart with Helene.
Rattled by Helene’s temperamental display, she stopped at her room for a break. She’s such a mass of contradictions, she mused, but then I guess we all are, me included. Finding the insight disturbing, Karen cleared her mind in the same way she smoothed the ground after a lesson with the boys. She had too much to do that morning than to dwell on issues without answers.
She checked the time and hurried off, not wanting to keep the boys waiting. After grabbing a large book from a pile near her bed, she placed it inside a satchel, which she had confiscated from a box in the storage area labeled “useful junk.” She looped the bag across her chest and headed in the direction of her school.
With the unpleasant task of spinning lies and manipulations now upon her, she forgot to pace herself for the uphill climb and, breathing heavily, stopped to lean against a stalagmite. She gasped when the top broke off and crumbled to the ground. It had been one of the beautiful, twisted kinds with branches running up, down, and sideways, with no thought to gravity. Knowing it would take many thousands of years for it to replace itself, she held her hand over her heart and apologized, but then reminded herself that this world, and all it represented, would soon be a blur.
In the near distance, she could hear Jon, sounding, thankfully, like a normal child playing in a schoolyard. Her face lit up at the significance, proud of the role she had played. His webbed fingers, however, and see-through skin were permanent, as well as his pointy rat nose, always twitching. Somehow she’d have to warn Janet to keep up the extra attention or risk losing him again. Fortunately, Randy showed no signs of gross metamorphosis.
Both boys ran up to her, excited and eager to please.
“We’ve been doing just as you told us,” said Randy.
Karen knew what he meant. “If you want to read,” she had drummed in, “you have to see the small print. That means additional time with natural lighting.”
Unfortunately, in Jon’s case the improvement was slight. His vision had always been poor, with people and objects appearing in shadows. While the shadows had lifted a little, the results remained unsatisfactory. For Randy, however, his vision had progressed to the point where he could recognize everyone by their faces alone, although the features became fuzzy if he stood more than a few feet away. Sometimes he complained that it was more annoying than when he could barely see at all.
“Things may seem worse before they get better,” Karen explained, followed by a handshake and a hug. Randy flinched as his body warmed up, especially down below. Panicking, he pulled away.
“What about me?” said Jon, craving attention as well as assurance. Karen smiled, although the corners of her lips looked as if they were taped in place. “I’m proud of you too” she said, lifting him up and twirling him around. The arteries in Jon’s face and neck glowed, pulsing on and off, further lighting up the surroundings. He laughed and clapped his misshapen fingers. Karen laughed too.
“I’m afraid I didn’t have time to prepare a lesson plan today. So how about we do something special. Pretend it’s a holiday, of sorts. See, I brought your favorite book. Fairy tales.”
While Jon let out a whoop and twirled on his heels, Randy remained quiet, watching as Karen lowered herself to the ground, her unzipped hooded sweatshirt spread out below her.
“I’m, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I forgot to bring the pillows. But it won’t happen again ’cause I’ll look for some old ones today, right after we get back. We can store them here, along with the writing materials.”
“Good idea,” said Karen, motioning for the boys to sit down. They took their positions, one to the left of her, one to the right, each pressing in, trying to gain an advantage over the other, as Karen skimmed through the table of contents.
“No pushing,” she said, “there’s plenty of room.” She let each boy pick two stories from the anthology and despite the fact that she had read them all before, both boys, for different reasons sat quietly, enthralled by the works of the Brothers Grimm.
Randy, his education so lacking, had no idea that these stories were written for younger children and delighted in the tales of good versus evil and far-away places, and Jon, although he couldn’t see the pictures in detail, had an imagination capable of sketching the words. When she finished, Jon, of course, asked for more. “Soon,” she told him. “First I want to talk to your brother. Why don’t you play by yourself near the rocks? When we’re finished we’ll come get you.”
To Karen’s relief, he ran off without complaining. She muffled a sigh, telling herself to be careful since the hard part, the deceptive part, was about to begin. She remembered how she had warned Jeremy to keep Randy out of this dirty mess. “He’s only a child,” she had said, but now she, too, was about to betray his trust. Boosting her resolve with an inner pep talk, she forged ahead but couldn’t help noticing Randy’s eyes, so trusting and just beginning to reveal a window to the adult he would be.
“I asked Jon to leave,” she began, “because I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Unlike him, you’ve had major improvements since you started coming here. Your skin has a healthier tone and your visual acuity is growing in distance and detail. I know how much you want to read grownup books and you’ve been very patient and cooperative. Your brother’s sight, I’m afraid, will never be adequate, but you—you have a chance. A good chance, and I have an idea how we can hurry things along.”
“How?” he asked, after taking the book from Karen’s lap and holding it near his face. He moved the precious tome closer then farther away, trying to find the ideal spot to focus on.
Karen had an immediate answer, having rehearsed it in her mind. “I want you to stop using your voice to see. Totally. Even in the dark. I don’t mean
forever, of course. Just for a while.”
Randy sat back, alarmed. “But how will I get around? I’ll be blind.”
Karen pulled a candle from her pocket. “No you won’t. You’ll use this. I want you to depend only on your sight. When this candle burns down, get another from the supply closet. We’ll try the experiment for a week and see what happens.”
Randy’s mouth sagged. He hated the idea, but since he wanted to please Karen as much as he wanted to read, he promised to comply.
“Now will you do me one other favor? Go fetch your brother.” Without waiting for an answer, she lit the candle and placed the remainder of the matches in his pocket.
While he was gone, Karen wiped the sweat from her brow, relieved that she could dispose of the outward manifestation of anxiety so easily. Lying to Randy felt downright evil and soon he would comprehend how she had used him. She only hoped she wouldn’t be around to witness his face as it transformed from confusion to sadness and finally to anger as he fathomed her duplicity. He may even wind up hating me, she thought, and how could she blame him, knowing this might be the act which transformed his childhood innocence to grownup cynicism.
Randy returned with Jon in tow, followed, to Karen’s surprise, by Helene. “I brought your lunch,” she said, holding up a pail and looking among the faces. “Rachel told me to. She’s such a bully. She also said I should stay here until you finish your milk.” The last comment was directed toward Karen, who conscious of all the complications she had encountered in one day, drank it down quickly, not wanting to add to the tangled mess.
After Helene left, Randy made a sour face and placed his tongue between his lips, blowing out the famous Bronx cheer even though he had never heard of it or its other name, raspberries. “Helene’s right,” he said. “Rachel’s a bully; worse than my mom. I wanted to bring peanut butter and jelly sandwiches today, make them myself, but she wouldn’t let me. She said we should save the canned food for emergencies.”