“That sounds alright,” Jeremy said. “Do you want me to talk to him?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Violet said. “I’d rather leave it as a surprise and explain it to him in the car.”
Jeremy nodded in disheartened agreement.
Looking at the clock, Violet realized it was only noon. There was still so much more of the day, so much more time before they could get out for good. She didn’t know how to face it, so she excused herself from their little world.
“I think I’m going to take a nap,” she lied.
“Sounds nice,” Jeremy said, “Enjoy it.”
When Violet got upstairs, she stopped in Ben’s bedroom. “Did you miss me?” she asked.
The puzzled look he gave indicated that not only had he not missed her, he hadn’t noticed she was gone.
“I just drove to the corner store!” she said with the enthusiasm of a young girl who’d just received her licence. “And I convinced Jeremy to let me take you for a drive tomorrow.”
“Cool!” Ben exclaimed. Violet wondered if he thought she meant it; that it was a drive and nothing else.
“Ben, we’re going to drive home,” she said seriously, waiting for their escape to register. He paused, looked down at his hands.
“Which home?” he asked.
“Home, home,” she stressed. “Back home to mom. Where we’re supposed to be. And you’ll get to sleep in your own bed, play with your own friends, get back to the life you’re supposed to have.”
Ben surveyed the room. Violet prayed she wasn’t following his train of thought: that he already had a room, and toys, and people (albeit invisible ones) to play with. Their mother, though. He had been deprived of a mother, and that had to be something he wanted to go home to.
“I’ll bet mom will have some chocolate chip cookies waiting for us when we get home, Ben. She’s probably missed us so much. She’s going to be so happy to see us.”
Her words weren’t having the effect she’d been looking for. There should have been an eagerness there that she wasn’t detecting. She shouldn’t have to convince her little brother it was a good idea to leave their kidnapper.
“Violet,” Ben said in a voice smaller than his body, “What if she didn’t miss us?”
Violet’s heart rocketed into her throat, blocking her ability to breathe or swallow. She wanted to hug him, hold him tightly and assure him that of course, of course their mother had missed them. No doubt she had been searching for them everyday, wondering where they were, if they were alright.
But there was a tiny seed sprouting in her stomach that took root and twisted her insides every now and again when she allowed her thoughts to stray back home. It had been a long time. Much can happen in a year. What if they came home to find that their mother had already adopted two new children to take their place? What if she had given up, taken down all of their family photos, thrown away everything that reminded her of them? It might not have been something she had done out of indifference; it could have come from love and mourning. But it would mean they had been erased nonetheless.
Would Ben be able to enter a classroom with kids his age? Would he be held back? What about his friends, would they think he had changed? Maybe they would fear that he was cursed or tainted in some way. Whispers would undoubtedly tickle the back of his neck.
And how about herself? Would she still have a job when she left here? If so, she’d likely fall back into the same old schedule, working long shifts and doubles. No doubt she’d have to work additional hours to catch up on the time she had missed. She hadn’t spent a penny of her own money, minus the few dollars in snacks at the convenience store, in almost a year. At least she still had savings in her account to use until she started to bring in money again.
These were all things Violet worried about. Things that made Violet say to herself, One more night here, just one more night before we leave. She wanted to make sure they were prepared as fully as possible.
Instead of reassuring her poor little brother that their mother still loved them and wanted them home, she had allowed her emotions to map themselves across her face. It registered through her lips, her eyebrows, her eyes. Ben started to cry.
“She’s waiting for us, Ben,” Violet said, a lump of apprehension clogging her throat. “She’s waiting for us, just like she has been all along. And the sooner we get home, the sooner she can prove that to you.” She pointed at him. “So that means we have to get ready to leave. Okay?”
Ben nodded.
“You’re going to have to try really, really hard to seem like everything is normal. It’s okay to act a little excited, but remember that we’re supposed to be only going for a drive. We’re going to pack up the things we need to take with us, but Jeremy can’t know we’re packing. If he suspects something, he’ll spook and lock us up again. So you’re going to have to be selective, do you know what that means?”
Ben nodded unconvincingly, so Violet explained.
“You can only choose a couple of things to bring home with you. Don’t worry about clothes or toys or anything. We’ll be able to get you whatever you need as soon as we’re home, and don’t forget that you have a whole room full of things waiting for you.”
Fingers crossed.
“Do I have to leave my Jeep?” Ben asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, Ben. You have to leave it behind.”
He hung his head for a moment, but he’d been prepared for that. He would have to leave behind his mud suit, too. He’d have to leave behind the days of driving in the dirt. It seemed to him that there was a lot he would be leaving behind; a lot that wouldn’t fit into a small bag he could carry on his back.
“You won’t miss it though,” Violet said. “You’ll be too busy enjoying all the wonderful things that were stolen from us. Just wait.”
She said the words and tried to convince herself of their truth.
“I’m going to my room now,” Violet said. “Jeremy thinks I went to take a nap. So as far as he’s concerned, I stopped in here to tell you that I’m taking you for a drive tomorrow. And it’s okay to be excited. If you’re looking forward to it, there’s less of a chance he’ll change his mind. He won’t want to let you down. But nothing obvious.” Kissing the top of his head, she felt the lump in her throat dwindle slightly.
Arriving at the doorway, she turned to look back, to give Ben an encouraging smile. But he was already off the bed and on his way out the door as well. He headed right downstairs.
He went straight to Jeremy, who was sitting at the kitchen table reading.
“Hey, Ben!” he said happily as the boy walked into the room.
Without a word, Ben threw his arms around his captor’s neck, buried his little head into Jeremy’s scrawny chest, and held on tight.
“What’s that for?” Jeremy asked, surprised. Ben didn’t shy away from Jeremy’s touch, but it was rare for him to show affection.
“Thanks, Jer,” Ben said simply. His words sounded sadder than he’d meant them to.
“Did Violet tell you that you’re going for a ride tomorrow?”
Ben moved his head up and down against Jeremy’s chest.
“Well, you’re welcome,” Jeremy said gently. He wrapped his arms around Ben and held on just as tightly.
Something was happening inside Jeremy, and he couldn’t put a finger on what. It was just above his stomach, just below his heart. It was something that had previously been hollowed out; heavy but void. Slowly, it had begun to fill up, like there was some small perforation where goodness was leaking in drip by drip. It should have felt heavier, but it didn’t. Instead, it felt ever lighter with each increasing drop.
On that day, with Ben’s arms around his neck and the woman of his dreams upstairs, the hollow expanse within him felt ready to burst, oversaturated with something unknown but so good.
“You’re welcome,” Jeremy repeated.
He missed all the signs. He didn’t expect a thing. Ben’s shaking, the tear
that snuck down his cheek, all went unnoticed. It was if they didn’t exist at all.
That was the last day that Violet and Ben spent inside of the house that was not Jeremy’s.
31
When Jeremy looked back on the last night they spent together, he recalled an ordinary night. A regular dinner, some pleasant conversation, a little bit of television after the clean up. Nothing strange. He didn’t see the unsettled way that Violet kept stroking her neck, tapping her foot. Or Ben’s big, sad eyes that avoided Jeremy.
Violet went to bed early. She said she had a headache. On so many nights, Jeremy replayed those last hours in his head. What could he have done differently? What should he have said? Could it have been as simple as locking them up in the basement for a day? Maybe they hadn’t been quite ready to be rid of their bracelets, the cameras, those burdenless burdens.
When Violet escaped to her bedroom, she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t have a migraine but her head ached with the thoughts ricocheting through the partitions of her skull. They bounced around ruthlessly, slamming into each other, breaking off into smaller, sharper bits. There would be no sleep for her that night.
Ben went to bed soon after Violet. He was worried he would slip up, say something he wasn’t supposed to and ruin it all. Watching television was simple enough; he looked at the screen and pretended to focus on the image in front of him. The only times he had to tune in were when Jeremy laughed or said something Ben should respond to.
Finally, he forced a yawn and headed up the stairs.
“You’re tired already?” Jeremy asked, surprised.
Ben wondered if he’d given in too soon; if it was too early to go to bed.
“I’m just going to read for a bit,” Ben lied.
“Oh, alright,” Jeremy said. He wasn’t hurt or suspicious, just curious. “Goodnight then, sleep tight. See you in the morning, kiddo.”
Ben paused upon hearing the nickname. Jeremy had only called him that once before, when they’d been doing a puzzle together and Ben found the tricky piece they’d been searching for.
“Way to go, kiddo!” he’d said, and Ben had beamed with the pride and glory that he assumed went with the title.
Seven years, that’s how old Ben was as he walked up those stairs for the last time. A year older than when he walked in, but he’d aged so much more than that. He was old enough to realize it was the last time he would hear Jeremy call him kiddo. This was it. He also realized it wasn’t supposed to be something he’d miss. He should be relieved to be free of it.
But Ben would miss it. He would miss Jeremy, the outdoors, the unstructured. He was wise enough, now, to know he would have to swallow the feeling, chew it up and digest it, hide it away deep down so no one could see. It was a feeling he wasn’t allowed to speak of out loud because no one would understand; it wouldn’t make sense to them. He wasn’t sure how Violet felt. Maybe he could share the sentiment with her. She might hate him for feeling that way, she might yell and scream like she had done at Jeremy all those times.
“Goodnight,” Ben finally replied as he walked up the last of the steps.
“Goodnight, Violet,” he said to the closed doorway next to his. He heard no response, but she was sitting inside, alert, awake and wondering how the next morning would unfold. If it would ever come.
Ben fell asleep that night. He thought he might lay there for hours, unable to drift off from excitement or worry. But sleep claimed him quickly, as if his subconscious tried to save him with its murky depths.
And as for Jeremy, he fell asleep easily, lightly, happily. Blissfully oblivious.
The next morning was cloudy. Of course it was. Violet lifted herself out of bed early. Her plan was to make a big breakfast for the three of them before leaving with Ben.
First, she would say some goodbyes. Walking out of her room, she saw both Ben and Jeremy’s doors still shut, sealing them off in their sleepy caverns. She tiptoed down the hall, the stairs, out the back door.
As she looked up, Violet wondered if she had appreciated the trees enough. She wrapped her arms around the hearty trunk of an old maple. The bark scratched against her cheek, an ant roamed across her fingers.
She walked past the forget-me-nots, plucked one and stuck it in her hair. The Mouse House; her failed sign of sticks that she had envisioned would secure them safety and rescue. They had gotten one but not the other, and it hadn’t come from carefully arranged kindling. It was Jeremy who had kept them safe.
Violet let her legs collapse onto the lawn. She sat with her knees tucked beneath her, ignoring the dew that seeped and expanded through her clothes, clamming her skin. She remembered.
About a month ago, she’d been outside doing some gardening. Picking some herbs for that night’s meal. The sun had been out in full force, and Violet could sense the rays sinking into her skin. She could feel their weight. But purple clouds billowed in, rolling across the sun’s path without warning. Big, fat drops began to fall, so substantial that they made a noise upon hitting her skin. Holding her arms up, hands out, she collected the drops in her palm. Her chin was raised, her eyes closed to shield them from the downpour. She had stuck her tongue out, like a little girl catching snowflakes. Violet lapped up the raindrops hungrily, swallowed them and swore she could taste what made them rain, not just water.
Looking back towards the house, Violet had seen Jeremy open the back door suddenly. He ran outside carrying something in his hands. As he neared her, Violet noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes and that he had a closed umbrella hanging by his side. A present, not a tool.
Violet lowered her hands and stood waiting for him to get to her. He was a little out of breath, more pink than normal.
“Here,” he said and swallowed loudly as he opened the umbrella and held it out to her.
“Jeremy,” she laughed, “What are you doing? Where are your shoes?”
He looked down then, as if he hadn’t realized he was missing them. Maybe he wasn’t. “Oh,” he replied bashfully. “Well, it started to rain. I wanted to protect you.”
Protect, like the rain would slice into her skin, dissolve her flesh beneath its soggy blanket. As if she would be forever scarred without the saving grace he had provided.
She could have teased him for that, told him she didn’t need or desire any shelter from the falling drops. She hadn’t, though. She had stuck her hand out, taken the umbrella and held it over her head. “Thank you, Jeremy,” she said softly.
He smiled and nodded, turned and ran back to the house. In his bare feet. She had smiled and shaken her head at the ground. She did the same thing in the present as she sat on the lawn for the last time.
Standing back up, Violet told herself she wouldn’t miss this place. Not Jeremy, not the home, not the wide-open space. She knew she was lying, but it made her feel better for the moment. She walked inside and into the kitchen.
Eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries. She knew the smell would rouse the boys before her voice did. Sure enough, as soon as the bacon lay bubbling in the pan, Jeremy’s soft soles descended the stairs behind her; Ben’s furious feet followed soon after. Both seemed so excited.
Jeremy set the table, Ben poured some orange juice, Violet turned on the radio. No one danced; no one sang. But they came close, together in the kitchen, preparing for a feast. Jeremy tapped his foot, Ben bobbed his head, Violet hummed.
The meal was delicious. None of them remembers what they talked about, but they did talk. There were no silent spaces, save for the few moments when all three chewed in unison. Once, this didn’t stop Ben, and the momentum of his words spewed his eggs across the table.
“Gross,” Violet said, allowing herself to laugh after Jeremy snorted. It was a nicer breakfast than most people had on most mornings, and it passed too quickly for all three.
Jeremy insisted on doing the dishes. Violet objected, but had hoped he would offer. She wondered why she took a mental picture of Jeremy’s back at the sink. Was that something she should want to rem
ember? Regardless, she took it in. The window facing the forest behind them; the green tea pot sitting on the window’s ledge; the clear vase with dried sprigs of lavender she had put there. The cottage country blue curtains that were parted in the middle and pinned back like a little girl’s hair. The shiny silver of the sink, the steam rising from the hot water that Jeremy never seemed to notice was blanching his hands.
“Thanks, Jeremy,” she said on her way out of the kitchen, and he turned back and smiled. His foot still tapped along to the beat of a song Violet had never heard.
There wasn’t much more for her to do, nothing to pack besides the clothes on her back and her purse. She wanted to bring the sweater she’d gotten for Christmas, but it was too hot outside. It would be suspicious.
Ben peered out from his doorway when she got upstairs. His room was as messy as ever. A small pile of things sat in the middle of his floor – a toy car, a pen, a photo Jeremy had taken of him.
“Is this okay?” he asked, pointing to his collection.
“That’s fine,” she said gently. “They’ll fit in my purse so he won’t see. Are you all set?”
“Yup,” he said quietly. They headed down the stairs to Jeremy’s back, which still leaned over the sink. Violet wondered how she would convince her voice not to waver.
“Well, we’re going to head out,” she shouted to him over the sound of the water. Forever.
Jeremy turned his head towards them, his long torso still facing the water. “Wow, you’re not wasting any time, are you?” But he was joking, he was only a little worried, he was smiling.
“Yeah,” she strained. “Just too excited to wait I guess.”
“Where do you think you’ll go?”
“Oh, I’m bringing your map with me from yesterday, so just on some back roads. We’ll probably be gone for about 45 minutes, give or take,” she said, hoping she sounded convincing. She had been tempted to tell him an hour, two, as much time as possible before he would begin to wonder. But she didn’t want to push her luck and was planning on driving as far away as she could, as fast as she could. Forty-five minutes would be enough.
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