We, The Lucky Few

by P. S. Lurie

  The statement is idiotic and we both know it. Regardless of Ruskin’s stature he was the faster swimmer, just like I won every race against the girls in my class not because I was taller than them but because I was a keener swimmer. I wouldn’t want someone to undermine my efforts.

  ‘Thanks,’ Henry says, ‘But it doesn’t matter because the whole point of those galas was to teach us about water safety.’

  Henry mutters something I can’t hear then catches himself and turns white but I can’t think why. I look at his parents but they still avoid eye contact with me and it’s hard to believe they took in any of our rambling. Henry too has lost any interest in the topic but I try one final line that always sparks a reaction.

  ‘Do you think that story was true? About the drowned twins?’

  We’d all heard the tale of the identical young brother and sister who’d sneaked off to the coast to watch the fishermen in their boats. They couldn’t see from the shore so climbed onto the top of an almost sunken car and spurred one another to push on. They jumped from one rooftop to another when far out to sea a dilapidated building collapsed next to them and the current pulled them into the drag and underwater. The story follows that they had never learnt to swim and were caught in a riptide in which they drowned. Their bodies were discovered days later, washed up, entangled in an embrace.

  The twins never had names and their ages changed according to who told the story. No one admitted to knowing them and the teller was always a friend of a friend, schooled before we were old enough to remember. I never believed the siblings existed but it was a menacing enough morality tale for us all to become proficient swimmers.

  ‘How old do you think they were?’ I ask.

  Neither Henry nor his parents respond and my eyes well up although I almost never cry because I have always had their support but now I am aware that they have abandoned me, if not yet physically then emotionally. I’ve trained myself to hold back my sobs when my mother attacked me with both words and fists but I can’t bear Henry’s parents turning their backs on me and at some point between the announcement and now they have accepted that I am too much of a threat to be here. I knew I would be unwelcome at some point but I didn’t expect it would be this early into the night, not yet midnight. Despite my disappointment I’m not angry because I owe them too much. I can’t blame them either because they didn’t choose this. Instead I thank them silently for not making me leave sooner, then I think of what to do next.

  I could show all three of them my appreciation by leaving the house in the next few minutes but even I know that the street is to be approached with caution and I don’t want to die with a final thought that the Argents have given up on me even if I know, or at least hope, it isn’t exactly true.

  But I need proof of this so I walk to the front of the house and reach for the doorknob. Mr Argent jerks his head up. ‘Don’t.’

  Regret of him stopping me flashes across his face but his initial reaction is enough to comfort me and I’m resolved that I have to leave, if not quite yet.

  ‘Can I wait until after midnight? I’ll leave then.’ I want to see what possibilities the early morning holds.

  Mrs Argent can’t face looking at me as she replies. ‘Of course.’

  I know delaying the inevitable only makes my departure more painful but staying for a few more hours buys me some time. I go upstairs and into Henry’s room and am pleased that he doesn’t follow me because I need to be alone. I want to cut the world out and lose all my senses.

  I step back into the wardrobe and where I once hid from my mother I now hide from everyone.

  There is no one to see me cry so I allow the tears to flow.

  Theia

  I skip the fence and am back in the confines of my house, which is the safest place for now although I’ve learnt that can change in an instant. I am stopped in the garden by a noise overhead. I hear a faint humming similar to the fridge next door but heavier and distant. I look up into the black sky and at the surrounding houses but can’t locate the sound.

  I rejoin my parents and Ronan in the lounge, where they all sit in front of the television but no amount of willing the screen to come back to life is going to bring to fruition a second announcement. Tonight the Upperlands won’t show any pity or remorse or retract their earlier decree. I still don’t understand how they can inflict this on us and there’s nothing we can do about it but I’ve mulled this over in my head for too many hours of this night already so I decide to stop questioning it and focus on planning our survival.

  Ronan plays with the yo-yo but it is a mess of string.

  ‘I’m back.’ I untangle the toy and pass it back to him. ‘There you go Ro.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he says and goes back to tying knots in it and it doesn’t fill me with confidence that he would be able to deal with the new world.

  ‘Is it cold out?’ my mother asks and I am astounded that she thinks I was in the garden the entire time. Did she not hear the other gunshots? Did she not care whether I was safe? At the hospital my mother is fearless but I look at her small frame. She is wracked with worry and I wonder how much of that extends to Dr Jefferson.

  ‘Where’s Leda?’ I blurt out, struck with panic that something has happened to her.

  ‘In Ronan’s room,’ my father says.

  ‘Sleeping?’

  ‘Why else would she be up there?’ he replies but realises what I insinuated.

  I’m more realistic than my parents. I’ve already seen six dead bodies tonight, most of them killed as I watched on, whilst my parents have only heard gunshots and I consider that they need a rude awakening.

  ‘Where are grandpa and grandma?’

  My mother points upstairs. ‘They wanted to lie down in our room, which is why Leda is in Ronan’s bed.’

  ‘Can I sleep in your room tonight?’ Ronan asks me.

  ‘Sure Ro.’

  My father emphasises his next words. ‘They wanted to rest and asked us to not disturb them.’ He may not be so naive after all and too many contradictory thoughts about this rush through my head to allow me to think straight so I lose my temper.

  ‘Rest until what?’ I shout back then sprint upstairs and hope it’s not too late.

  Henry

  ‘What was that?’ I demand an explanation from my parents. I admit I wasn’t great with Selene because of the memory she triggered when asking me about the twins but at least I wasn’t rude by ignoring her. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’re a family of four. You’ve always said Selene is one of yours.’

  ‘You’re our son Henry, our flesh and bones,’ my father says whilst my mother nods in agreement. ‘We need to think about your safety.’

  I know these words have been coming all night but I’m still not ready to hear them. ‘This is wrong.’

  ‘It’s best for all of us.’ my mother says. ‘We can’t allow Selene to take your place.’

  ‘Why are you talking like this?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like it’s been decided I’ll be Rehoused over you?’

  My father uncharacteristically slams his fist against the table. ‘Enough.’

  ‘You will,’ my mother says quietly. ‘You will be Rehoused.’

  ‘Don’t I have a say?’

  ‘No,’ says my father. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about it. Selene will leave and your mother and I will come to some arrangement.’

  ‘Arrangement? That’s what you want to call it? Say it. Go on, say the word.’

  ‘No Henry.’ My mother is angry but I don’t care.

  ‘Say it!’

  My father slams his fists against the table even harder. ‘Death. Our deaths. Are you happy now?’

  I know I’m wasting my breath but I also know that wishing us all to be Rehoused is even more foolish than arguing over which one of gets to live. ‘I love you both so much but if you make Selene leave then,’ but I trail off because there’s nothing to threaten them with that they haven’t been threaten
ed with already. Except there is one thing: my safety. ‘Then I’ll go with her.’ I pinch the top of my nose and sigh with exhaustion.

  ‘I wish there was some other way,’ my father says.

  I mutter my response. ‘You haven’t even tried.’

  ‘Listen to the neighbourhood. Everyone is trying to think of a way out. And they’re failing. There is no alternative,’ he says. ‘You need to prepare for the future.’

  I want to speak to Theia. Selene has always made me laugh, has always been like a sister to me but it’s Theia who I need right now. In my daydreams about the future the floods have receded and the life is getting back on track and it is her who I picture alongside me. If I have any chance for us all to see tomorrow I know that Theia would be the one to have the solution.

  My mother reaches across and takes my hand. ‘What happens should be up to you.’

  I don’t respond because although it sounds like she’s suggesting I get to choose who is Rehoused out of us I know exactly what she means.

  She continues. ‘Let’s assume Selene goes in a few hours leaving the three of us.’

  ‘Selene isn’t going anywhere’

  ‘Please Henry, for the sake of the argument.’

  ‘Ok. What then?’

  ‘At five you will sit on the doorstep and wait to be Rehoused. We are all agreed on that.’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘We’re not.’

  Before I can express my disapproval my father holds up his hand to stifle me. ‘We are all agreed on that,’ he says.

  I decide that I will have to argue my case later tonight when they aren’t being obstinate and listen on.

  ‘You have to live with the consequences of how we die. Therefore, you must decide how we end our lives.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Listen to me Henry.’

  ‘I’d rather not thank you.’

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  I stare at him with disgust but I know that we can’t all survive so I should at least hear him out. ‘Fine.’

  ‘I can think of three possible solutions: either we end our own lives, the police kill us in the morning whilst you listen on, or you help us.’

  ‘Help you? Help you? This is crazy. You want me to murder you. You’re sitting there asking me to decide how to kill you. I can’t believe this.’

  ‘Believe me,’ says my mother. ‘This is not easy for any of us. You have to deal with the consequences of this evening for the rest of your life. Our deaths will provide you that chance for life so you need to think carefully about how you want to do this. You have to consider what’s best for you.’

  I sit in stunned silence, unable to stomach the idea that my parents have just asked me to determine how they die and what part I play in it.

  ‘Henry,’ my father says. ‘We don’t need an answer right this second but time is not on our side.’

  I want to scream Fuck you both but it would fall on deaf ears. Still, they’ve asked me to do the impossible so I have to bite my tongue. It doesn’t last long.

  ‘Fuck you both,’ I say, conceding. I shoot up and the chair slams backwards from my force and topples over. I head towards the garden, aware that I’m only fifteen and I’m allowed to be a teenager and say impulsive disrespectful things and shy away from responsibilities. But I also know that whether or not I like it my parents are right and I’m going to have to grow up pretty quickly.

  Theia

  I screech to a halt at the top of the stairs when I narrowly avoid a collision with my grandfather.

  ‘Where are you going in such a rush?’

  ‘I thought you and grandma,’ I pant. My grandparents have not been a large part of my life for various reasons and I don’t know my grandfather well enough to be having this macabre conversation.

  He chuckles to himself. ‘You always were on the ball. I never had any worries about you.’

  I ignore his compliment. ‘Is grandma alright?’

  ‘She hasn’t been alright for a very long time. But yes, she’s sleeping at the moment. Theia I’m sorry I never got to know you better. Your mother said you were a smart girl, which makes me wonder where you got that from.’ He winks at me.

  I’ve never been around my grandfather long enough to learn his traits and it surprises me that he is charming and quick-witted but I assume my naivety comes from grouping him in with my grandmother. I didn’t like the retirement home, not because it gave me the creeps but it was a reminder that there were people at an age I was unlikely to reach. The few times I did visit this past year my grandmother mistook me for my mother or confused the present with another time; it upset me to see what could happen if the tides reached me in youth but it also scared me to imagine what could happen if I did live long enough for old age. I considered the Ethers next door as grandparents during my childhood and now, standing in front of my maternal grandfather, I feel guilty.

  I admire how he never stopped caring for his wife even when the woman he knew disappeared into an empty frame and I regret not spending enough time with them to appreciate the burden of caring for her. Whilst my mother gave people life-saving quick fixes he stayed by his wife’s side for the long haul. I should have helped but I was busy looking after Ronan and Leda, which I think is a decent enough excuse yet still I apologise. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t visit you.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. The young have to live their lives. Besides, you’re raising Ronan and Leda and don’t think that goes unnoticed.’

  I value his insight. My parents became so used to my involvement that I never wanted awe but just some recognition from them. I’ve never asked my grandfather for anything but the rest of the family have not acknowledged tonight and I suddenly feel like I have missed a huge source of support. I want my grandfather to reassure me that things will work out tonight even if what he says can only amount to meaningless words.

  My grandfather fishes something out of his pocket and shows it to me. A generous handful of pills. ‘I need your help with something.’

  ‘What are they?’ I scrutinise the tablets but I already know the answer. It’s what my mother didn’t take when she smuggled the walkie-talkie. And I thought that was bad enough. I feel my body grow heavy with despair.

  ‘I borrowed them from your mother’s stash. Think she’ll mind?’

  My heart sinks. I know all the risks of overdosing. Not enough can lead to neurological complications but enough can be fatal, which I assume is the plan. ‘They’re not to help you sleep are they,’ I say with rhetoric.

  ‘Theia you are far stronger than your parents. Look at you trying to work out an escape plan whilst they sit by idly counting down the hours until all hope is gone.’ My grandfather is more perceptive than I knew. ‘I want you promise me you’ll stand guard outside our door for the next thirty minutes. I don’t want your mother trying to resuscitate us. That wouldn’t help with your situation.’

  My grandfather notes my hesitation. ‘My time has come to an end. I’m just an obstruction and your grandmother cannot go on alone. Imagine she’s the one we choose to be Rehoused.’ He laughs heartily at what he’s decided is a ludicrous notion then composes himself. ‘Who would look after her? Do you really believe that at the end of this night one of us should be Rehoused over any of you?’ He pauses and I can see that he has come to terms with his decision. ‘That would be foolish.’

  From heaviness to weightlessness, my body feels strangely at ease and I hope it’s not because I’m relieved by his decision and that it’s two fewer people for Ronan to be Rehoused over. I hope instead that it’s empathy and compassion. I don’t try to plead with him. It is my father’s words that comfort me and I am surprised that his one moment of valour for years has stuck. Tonight death is not a mark of weakness. We cannot judge the decisions people make with or against their loved ones. Ending life may be the most honourable, bravest act.

  I agree with my grandfather’s reasoning; my grandmother should not survive him, yet my conscience wants me t
o inform my parents and give them the option to argue with him but I know this would only cause unnecessary stress so I decide to not include them. My willingness to acquiesce confirms that there is no denying the Upperlands’ announcement.

  I offer him one final get out clause because I don’t want him to be doing this because of martyrdom. ‘Don’t go through with it. If you are Rehoused you could live your years out without the burden of caring for someone.’

  In thinking about my grandfather’s wellbeing I am effectively suggesting he kill his wife and then the rest of us must somehow die. Ronan and Leda, and my parents and me.

  ‘Theia, caring for your grandmother has never been a burden. Exhausting yes and devastating at times too. What I would give to have my wife back the way she was but this is love and I cherish every moment with her. I wouldn’t want to live one second longer than her.’

  I imagine this is not dissimilar from the Ethers’ conversation but somewhere between agreeing to die together and going through with it something went wrong for them. I have never been in love and can’t pretend to understand either my grandfather or the Ethers’ decision. There is so much I don’t know about my grandparents and I have lost my chance to learn about them: where they grew up, how they met, what their wedding looked like. I feel ashamed for being ignorant. Too many stories will be lost tonight.

  ‘Tell me what I should do. I want Ronan to survive.’

  ‘You know I don’t have those answers to give you. I wish I could. You’ll learn that there are people who spend their lives trying to convince you of things that they couldn’t possibly know themselves. They should never be trusted. Adults like to deceive themselves because somewhere in adolescence cynicism and wonderment is lost. Hold onto those two things Theia. Cynicism and wonderment. You’re wiser than anyone I know so I have no doubt you’ll manage what the rest of us don’t.’

  My grandfather hugs me and I squeeze him tightly back.