by Adi Alsaid
“We put it in the creek,” one of the stubbly beer drinkers said. “The water will keep it from melting.”
“Oh,” Dee said. She let go of Leila’s hand and walked around, inspecting the rest of the party supplies. Then, content, she looked back at Leila. “So, what do you want to do first?”
Leila bent down and picked Dee up in a bear hug, and the little girl squealed in delight. “Thank you.” She held Dee for a second, then lowered her back down and repeated the thank-you to Brendan and Harriet and the rest of the campers who were gathered around.
She found herself starting to get a little choked up, hardly believing the kindness of these people. Dee’s sweet-hearted impulse to throw her a birthday party, her parents’ willingness to follow through on it. If anything could shake her memories out of hiding, why not kindness?
“Let’s start with the pizza,” Leila said, putting her fingers around Dee’s shoulder and leading them to the nearest picnic table.
The birthday party was rich in everything Leila loved about her trip. She wondered if everyone got the same thrill she did from meeting new people, or if it was uniquely enjoyable for her.
The three stubbly beer drinkers, for example, were Ron, Geoff, and Karl, three cousins on a fishing trip. They were born a year apart and barely had to nod at each other to know exactly what the other was saying. The young couple was newly engaged after surviving a four-year long-distance relationship. One of the kids, a reserved twelve-year-old, claimed he was a poet and that a dog had once eaten 250 pages’ worth of his work, leading him to quit writing for a couple of years.
Leila wished she could hear every conversation happening simultaneously, but instead she settled for letting her focus drift in and out, so that what she got was a medley of people digging into each others’ lives.
An intimacy, however fleeting, formed in the air, and Leila tried not to simply sit back and observe it all happen but to throw herself into the scene. She’d discovered that much about herself: her simultaneous desires to observe others from a distance and integrate herself in their lives.
After pizza, conversation, and creek-cooled ice cream, Leila decided that their next activity would be hide-and-seek. She hid in terrible hiding spots so she could have the pleasure of seeking others. She loved pretending not to see the kids hiding, their stifled giggles as she paused right in front of the bushes they were crouched behind.
When the grown-ups tired of hide-and-seek and retreated to the beer coolers, Leila decorated the cake, then announced that it was time for the piñata. Dee clapped her hands and handed Leila the broom handle that served as the hitting stick.
“I don’t want to go first,” Leila said. “I’m really strong. No one else will get a turn.”
Dee shook her head. “Nope, the birthday girl has to go first.”
“I’m serious. It could explode all over the place. I’m that strong.”
Baring that gap-toothed smile, Dee crossed her arms, refusing to take the broom handle back. “You have to go first.”
“Well, if you insist. But you can’t blame me when there’s no candy left because it all exploded,” she said, containing her smile.
She stepped up to the piñata, allowed Harriet to blindfold her, and after being spun around a few times, made a vaudevillian display out of falling down on her first swing. “Did I get it?” she called out from the ground, the audience of children delighted by the performance. Then she got up and passed the broom handle to Dee, the rest of the children taking twenty-second turns swinging at the piñata, a wide circle spread around them to avoid inadvertent hits. During the twelve-year-old poet’s turn, the piñata gave way with a crack that sounded just like a home run, and everyone rushed to collect the candy that rained down.
After the piñata, a tired lull settled into the party. Dee waved Leila over to one of the picnic tables to cut the cake. A single candle stood in the middle of the cake, lit and buried almost halfway in green frosting meant to look like the Northern Lights. The campers crowded around Leila and sang “Happy Birthday,” Dee the loudest of them all. When they were done, Dee said, “Now you blow out the candle and make a wish, and if you wish really hard and don’t say it out loud, it’ll come true.” She was kneeling on the picnic bench next to Leila, leaning back from the table as if trying to resist the urge to blow out the candle herself. Her cheeks were red from the sun and the running around, and she was wrapped up in a post-water-balloon-fight towel, shivering slightly.
Leila paused, wondering what to wish for. The little flame flickered, wavering in the brisk air. How funny it would be if wishing on a store-bought candle would bring back her memories. She imagined blowing out the candle and the mailman immediately coming up the path, looking for Liza to deliver a handful of envelopes. Among them, a letter from Hudson, or a postcard—anything that would break the silence. She imagined Hudson himself walking up the path. What about wishing for a normal life, one that didn’t revolve entirely around what was gone?
With Dee’s eyes expectantly studying her face, Leila took a deep breath, remembered that this was just a candle on a cake, not a miracle, then pursed her lips and wished only to see the Northern Lights. The flame disappeared in a wisp of smoke.
Dee leaned into Leila, whispering, “Did it work? Do you remember?”
Leila could only smile. “Thank you, Dee. I’ll always remember this party.”
“Who wants a slice?” Liza said, taking over the duties of cutting the cake into manageable squares. Several people responded with yeses, nos, and requests for just a tiny little sliver.
Dee lowered her head. Leila could see tears welling up in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Dee sniffled, tightening her mouth. Her bottom lip was still quivering from the cold. “It was supposed to work,” she said. “You were supposed to remember by now.” Then she jumped off the bench and ran toward the path, that curly ponytail bouncing as she disappeared around the bend.
Leila called out after her, but Harriet was already getting up from her seat. “Don’t worry,” Harriet said. “She’ll be okay. She tends to overreact when things don’t go exactly how she wants them to. You enjoy your party.”
Leila tried to do just that, accepting a slice of cake, making conversation with the rest of the partygoers. If Dee was still upset when she came back, Leila would give her a little white lie to appease her. She kept turning to look over her shoulder, wanting to see Harriet carrying Dee back to the party. After about twenty minutes, just as Leila was starting to worry that Dee had taken things a little too hard, Harriet appeared up the path, frantic and in tears.
“I can’t find her anywhere!” she cried out. “Dee’s gone!”
3
LEILA SEARCHED THE woods alongside Dee’s parents, trying to be a calming presence. She was thankful, this time, for night’s slow approach.
They’d been scouring the campsite for a couple of hours, everyone spread out into groups of two or three to cover as much ground as possible. Every few seconds, calls of “Dee!” sounded through the trees, making whatever birds remained in the area start and flutter away. The sound of their wings filled Leila with a sense of dread. But she didn’t dare lose her composure in front of Brendan and Harriet. She looked uselessly at the surrounding forest, trying to spot anything in between the trees other than darkness or more trees.
Brendan had an arm around Harriet’s shoulders, but he looked just as grim and torn up as she did. When they said their daughter’s name, their voices sounded thin, as if hanging on by a thread. A park ranger named Rick walked along with them, shining a flashlight into bushes, looking up at branches that were way too high for Dee to have reached. Sloppily overweight, with bored eyes, Rick looked more suited to be a mall security guard than anyone who spent time outdoors, much less a park ranger.
“Kids that age,” the ranger started to say, “they tire out pretty quickly. Sometimes
their instincts are a little off, and they keep wandering, getting more lost. But a girl who’s been camping before, like you say, she’d know staying put is the best thing to do. If she ran away after an argument, my guess is that she’ll be found when she wants to be found.”
“It wasn’t an argument,” Leila muttered. She should have come up with something, some meaningless little detail that would have made Dee feel happy for her.
“Either way, I wouldn’t worry,” the park ranger insisted.
“Yeah, well, I’m worrying,” Harriet said.
It killed Leila that there was nothing more active they could do but look. It made her feel useless to call out for Dee, to arrive at a clearing and stare across the plains with her hands on her hips, not knowing what else to do.
The air was getting colder. It wasn’t about to freeze over or anything, but Leila pictured how tiny Dee was, how she’d left wrapped up in a damp towel, and she was struck by panic. The world suddenly felt full of threats. Hungry animals, hidden cliffs, poisonous plants that could inflict harm after just a touch. Cancer, unforeseen heart conditions, car accidents.
Leila took a deep breath. “Maybe she made it back to the campsite by now.”
“Don’t think so,” the park ranger answered, all too quickly. “They would have radioed me.” He kept staring up into the trees, oblivious of the looks Leila and Brendan were shooting at him.
“Any sensitivity training in your line of work, Rick?”
“Nope,” Rick responded. “Why do you ask?”
Harriet flashed a secret smile at Leila, rolling her eyes. Her heart wasn’t in the gesture, but that was understandable.
“Just wondering if that charm is natural.” Leila leaned down to pick up a twig so that she could have something to occupy her hands with. The twig was swarming with tiny black ants, though, and she tossed it back to the ground. She zipped her jacket up as high as it would go and hid her nose behind the fabric.
“I hope she didn’t make it out this far,” Rick went on, not even bothering to show any real concern on his face, his voice monotone. “Another mile and we’ll be in pretty heavy bear territory.”
“Really, Rick? That’s the commentary you’re going with at this particular moment?”
Rick adjusted his belt and continued leading the way down the path. “I’m not sure what you mean. Bears and other wildlife are a serious concern to recreational campers in the area.”
Harriet cringed, her fists tightening at her sides. Brendan, at odds with his usual relaxed demeanor, looked like he was getting very close to punching the ranger.
“Rick, how about you and I keep going this way and we let these two backtrack? In case we missed anything, or Dee returned to the campsite,” Leila suggested.
“Not a bad idea,” Rick said. “But I’ve been instructed to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Maclin.”
“How about I stay with them, and you just go away?”
“Still no,” Rick responded, oblivious. “What happens if you come across a pack of wolves and don’t have my dart gun to protect you? What then?” He patted the holstered weapon by his side as if it were a loyal dog.
Leila shook her head in disbelief. She looked at Harriet and shrugged. “I tried.”
“I know,” Harriet said. “You go ahead and turn back. I think the more spread out we are, the better.”
“You sure?” Leila didn’t want to leave them alone to deal with the obtuse ranger, although a part of her was thrilled to get away from him.
“Yeah. Just, you know, watch out for violent animals. And give us a call if you find her,” she said, pulling out her cell phone to exchange numbers.
“Cell phone signal isn’t great out here.”
“Goddamnit, Rick,” Leila said.
“Go. Save yourself.” Harriet offered a smile, which seemed like a particularly brave thing to do. She was sure the last thing Harriet felt like doing was smiling. If given the choice between smiling and, say, curling up on the forest floor and bawling until her daughter came back to her, she’d probably choose the latter. But she was smiling anyway, marching on, not losing it.
Leila turned on her heels and went back the way they’d come. The path they were on was a hiking trail, a long but not especially difficult one, which ranger Rick had theorized would be the most likely for a nine-year-old to take.
She surveyed her surroundings as she walked, but after hours of doing just that, it was hard to be hopeful. But somehow, still, it was downright enthralling to watch leaves shudder in the wind, to watch whole treefuls of them shake and flutter like a mass of people interacting in a room. The beauty of the place was almost reassuring, as if no harm could come to Dee as long as she was lost here.
A branch cracked somewhere nearby. Then came the pitter-patter of footsteps, very light ones. Leila stood still, making no noise of her own to be sure she wasn’t imagining things. There they were again, feet making their way across the ground. “Dee?” Leila said. Immediately the footsteps picked up their pace. They were somewhere nearby, in the trees just beyond the trail. If it were still daytime, or even the earlier stages of dusk, Leila could probably have seen her.
“Dee, it’s Leila!” she called out, breaking away from the path toward the sounds of sneakers coming down on leaves, faster and faster. Before she knew it, Leila was running through the woods, avoiding bushes, hopping over obstacles, shielding herself from low-hanging branches, pine needles that stung her face as she increased her speed. “Dee! Don’t run.”
She was out of breath already. In her past life, she’d enjoyed going out for runs. She knew this from the well-worn running shoes in her closet and Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running sitting on her bookshelf. But this was the first time she’d run since playing Drunkball, since fleeing from the cops on the island, Hudson’s hand in hers.
“Dee! Slow down.”
It was hard to imagine Dee’s short legs moving as fast as they were. Leila prayed the girl didn’t trip on something on the ground and hurt herself. The image of blood flashed through her head, and she sped up until her legs were burning, chasing the footsteps, which, improbably, were getting farther and farther away. The sound of rushing water was getting louder, almost enough to drown out the footsteps. Leila prayed for one of those clearings near the creek, for a glimpse of Dee.
Sweat ran from her hair down to her back, cold by the time it clung to the fabric of her sweatshirt. She’s going to get sick, Leila thought to herself. She’s going to get hurt, she’s going to remain lost, and it’s all because I can’t remember a damn birthday party. Tears started running down her face as she thought of the pothole that had blown out two tires of her family’s car, making her dad lose control. That pothole that had made the car wrap itself around a streetlight post, rendering seat belts helpless in the face of physics. One stupid hole in the ground had taken everything away from Leila, and it was still taking things away.
“Dee!” Leila cried out, no longer sure that Dee could even hear her.
Without enough warning, it was night. Between strides, it seemed, darkness had taken over. It was hard to tell how long she’d been running. Only a moment, it seemed, but Leila’s lungs ached for air to breathe, and her legs were no longer able to push her forward at the same pace. She demanded more of them, begging them to take her just a little farther. And they did, for a moment. They kept her going, just enough for her to see a break in the line of trees, the creek running serenely in the distance.
Leila reached the clearing, nearly wheezing, her hair damp and sticking to her forehead and her neck. She avoided the urge to double over so that she could look across the field and see...a deer. A poor, frightened deer, sprinting for her life through the grass, headed for the shelter of another batch of trees. It was barely a silhouette in the dark, almost no color to it except for the streak of white down its back. But it was clearly a deer, and wi
thin a second or two it disappeared into the woods again, leaving Leila alone in the field to catch her breath.
She put her hands on her knees and leaned over, shutting her eyes against the disappointment, sweat and tears trickling down her chin and dropping onto the grass. A headache appeared, throbbing right along the scar on her nape, beating in time with her heart.
When she’d recovered somewhat, Leila walked over to the creek and splashed some water on her face, wiping it dry with her sleeve. Her face stung with the cold. It took her a while to realize that this was that same clearing pictured on the website. She must have taken a shortcut through the woods, or else she’d been running longer than she realized.
Her legs were shaking, weak. Her mouth was drier than she’d ever felt it before. She knelt down to the creek again, cupping her hands together and drinking from the nearly freezing water. When she tried to stand back up, her legs refused. Instead, she dropped down onto the grass, stretching her legs out in front of her.
That’s when she saw a figure standing about a hundred yards down, right around the spot where Leila had laid herself down the night before. Small, upright, ponytailed.
Leila rushed to her feet, and, despite the tired complaints of her legs, she ran across the field. Dee was whole, unharmed, smiling, even. As soon as she reached Dee, Leila wrapped her up in her arms, unable to contain the tears of joy. A flurry of parental thoughts went through her head: I was so worried, don’t ever do that to me again, where were you, I’m just glad you’re okay. But she was too happy to say any of them, just kept on hugging the girl.
“Leila, look,” Dee said.
Leila pulled back and noticed that Dee was looking up at the sky, one arm raised and pointed at the heavens.
The Northern Lights were in full bloom. Waves of green light streaked across the sky, tinged with gold and purple. And they moved, like living, breathing things. No sky Leila had seen before could compare to the beauty she was seeing above her. It didn’t feel like some accident of nature but rather something that was purposefully unleashed on the world. She understood now, why there were so many myths surrounding the Lights, why ancient peoples thought they were proof of some benevolent god wanting to remind them of his love. They were majestic, like nothing she’d ever seen before. As breathtaking as her run through the woods.