All That We Carried

by Erin Bartels

  “I know a bailiff who refuses to cross big bridges,” Olivia said. “He’ll drive miles out of his way to avoid it. If he were going to the UP, he’d have to drive all the way around Lake Michigan and come in through Wisconsin.”

  “Why doesn’t he just use the assistance program?” Melanie said. “Someone who works for the bridge authority will drive your car across for you if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

  “I guess he’s too afraid for even that. It’s weird. He can’t remember anything bad that ever happened to him on a bridge, he’s just always been scared of going over them.”

  “I wonder if he’s tried hypnosis to cope with his fears.”

  Olivia laughed. “No, I don’t think he’s tried hypnosis.”

  “It works for a lot of people.”

  “I’m sure it does.” Olivia shifted in her seat. “Man, my hip is killing me.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. Just sore from sitting so long. It’ll be fine.”

  Melanie slowed to forty-five miles per hour and pulled into the left lane. She would have preferred to drive in the right lane closer to the breathtaking expanse of blue water beneath her, but with big trucks required to go no faster than twenty and with Olivia already touchy about the time, she decided it was better to be fast than fascinated. If she got stuck behind a semi for five miles at twenty miles per hour, Olivia would probably have a stroke.

  “You know, bridges are an important symbol in a lot of different belief systems,” Melanie said. “They can be about crossing over from life to death. They can be about finding connection with one another. In a Tarot deck they can symbolize spanning the gap between misery and harmony. And they work either way. So if bridge cards start showing up in readings, it doesn’t necessarily mean something bad or something good. It all depends on where your life is moving. Either we are moving toward misery or toward harmony in our lives.”

  “Yeah,” Olivia said, “or they can be about the fact that we need one piece of land to connect to another piece of land so we can get a car across it.”

  Melanie bit the inside of her cheek. “How about some music?”

  “Sure.”

  Olivia punched the button for the CD player. After a moment of silence, the sound of a solo acoustic guitar rang out, joined a moment later by a cello. Then a powerful female voice singing about rain and wind and absence and regret. Mel glanced over at her sister. Olivia’s eyes were closed, just the way their father’s had always been when he listened to loud music in the living room after a hectic day at work. But the face Mel saw was their mother’s. Broad forehead, sensible nose, strong jawline. Olivia had their mother’s straight brown hair and solid build. She had her no-nonsense attitude and her drive. She was in all ways fierce and formidable. The ultimate big sister.

  Well, almost. The ultimate big sister wouldn’t have left when Melanie needed her most.

  As the last bittersweet notes of the song rang out, the car left the metal grate of the suspension bridge and the tires hit the concrete. Melanie and Olivia reached out to turn off the CD player at the same time and shared a smile. There were some songs that just needed to ring in your ears for a while.

  “I haven’t heard that since . . .” Olivia trailed off.

  Melanie lowered her window to pay the toll. She handed the clerk four dollars, beat him to saying “Have a nice day,” and pulled back out into traffic. She had driven perhaps a quarter mile before she realized Olivia never finished her sentence.

  “When was the last time you heard that song?” she prompted.

  “Do you have other CDs in here?”

  Melanie allowed the deflection. She could guess the answer. “Back of your seat.”

  For the next forty-five minutes, Olivia played DJ as they drove west along the north shore of sparkling Lake Michigan. The CDs she put into the player had all once been part of their parents’ collection, parceled out between the two sisters along with the photo albums, the jewelry, the books, and some of the furniture. Melanie relaxed into the soundtrack of her childhood and entered an almost meditative space, adrift in memories of times lost.

  The road continued straight, the lakeshore curved away south, and they headed into the alternating pasturelands and scrub forest of the interior. Here the trees had more color than they did in the northern reaches of the Lower Peninsula. The varied green of the pines, spruces, and firs stood out against a tapestry of yellow and orange, with the occasional red thrown in like a garnish of flame. Fields of grazing dairy cows and wide wetlands playing host to migrating geese and herons occasionally broke up the monotony of the trees. Overhead a pair of sandhill cranes flew low and slow, heading south for the cold season ahead.

  It was beautiful.

  “I’ve sent a bunch of people to prison up here,” Olivia said. “Not sure it’s much of a punishment.”

  Melanie shook herself out of her reverie. “You look at all this gorgeous nature and that’s where your mind goes? Prison?”

  She shrugged. “It just popped into my head. It’s the only connection I have to the UP.”

  “No it isn’t,” Melanie said.

  “I don’t like to think about that trip.”

  Melanie paused, picking her next words carefully. “The trip wasn’t the problem.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I know it helps some people to talk about things like that—I know it helps you—but that’s just not me.”

  “I know. It’s fine. We’ll talk about something else.”

  But neither, it seemed, knew what that something else should be. They drove along in silence for a few minutes more.

  “This is your turn up here,” Olivia said, looking up from the paper map on her lap and gesturing at the upcoming intersection. “Turn right.”

  Melanie pointed the car north. Overhead, birds of prey soared on thermals. That, at least, was safe to talk about. “Look, a bald eagle. I see hawks and eagles all the time. Every time I leave the house, I see one. I think it must have something to do with my aura. Like they can sense a kindred spirit or something.”

  Olivia leaned forward and looked out the window. “That’s a vulture.”

  “What? No, it’s a bald eagle.”

  “That?” she asked, pointing.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a vulture. If those are following you around, I think you may want to reexamine your aura. But I’m guessing you just see them a lot driving because of the roadkill.”

  Melanie craned her neck to keep the bird in sight. It couldn’t be a vulture. She saw those all the time. They were eagles.

  “Watch the road,” Olivia snapped.

  Melanie felt a stab of panic when she saw she had veered over the center line, and she overcorrected. She took a breath, let it out slowly, centered herself. Everything was okay.

  “Do you want me to drive so you can look at the scenery?” Olivia said.

  “No,” Melanie mumbled. How could they be vultures? Settling her eyes back on the horizon, she saw a bank of gunmetal gray approaching from the northwest. “I think it’s going to rain.”

  Olivia looked up from the map again. “Yep. Let’s gas up at Seney so we don’t have to do it later in a downpour.”

  “How far is it?”

  “Not more than ten minutes, I should think.”

  Melanie looked at the gathering storm. “I hope we make it.”

  three

  IN ADDITION TO GAS at fifty cents more a gallon than downstate, the little gas station on the outskirts of Seney offered a wide selection of animal pelts slung over the railing by the door. Olivia ran her hand over each one as Melanie pumped the gas. No matter what the animal—deer, coyote, fox, raccoon, skunk—they all had a rough overcoat for protection and a soft undercoat for warmth. Like her and her sister. Melanie the soft and loving, she the stiff and repellent. No matter how she had tried to change that about herself, she always came up short.

  She warned the clerk inside about the coming rain. He
snapped his fingers at a young man, who sprang into action gathering up the furs and disappearing with them into a back room.

  “Sorry,” the clerk said to Olivia, “did you want to buy any?”

  Olivia politely declined and asked where the bathroom was. When she walked back outside, Melanie was walking in.

  “I’m glad he took those pelts away,” she said. “I have to go so bad, but I wasn’t getting within ten feet of those poor things.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes, then looked at the sky. “Hurry up. We’re going to get dumped on any minute now.”

  She got into the driver’s seat as Melanie disappeared inside the store. The first drops of rain hit hard and fat on the windshield and were quickly followed by more. Minutes later, Melanie ran out and tried to get in the driver’s seat before realizing Olivia was already there. She ran around to the other side, shoulders hunched against the steady rain, and practically fell into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

  “Sheesh! That came on fast. I’m already soaked.”

  Olivia looked at her. “It’s not that bad.”

  Melanie shook a shower of water out of her curls.

  “Hey!” Olivia said. “You’re getting the map wet.”

  “Relax.” Melanie laughed. “We’ve got GPS.”

  “Not for long. Can’t depend on it where we’re going.”

  “You’re driving?”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Looks like you’re driving. Better you than me. I hate driving in the rain.”

  “Me too, but it’s better than having to ride when someone else is driving.” Olivia headed west into the storm. Maybe they would get lucky and drive through it rather quickly. “Can you get a radar map on your phone right now?”

  “I can try.” Melanie started tapping at her phone as the rain intensified. “Not much for a signal.”

  “See?” Olivia squinted into the curtain of rain and slowed the car. “Never mind. We have to drive through it either way.” She looked at the speedometer and sighed. So much for making up time lost to Melanie’s turtle.

  The CD player remained off as Olivia concentrated on the road. Which was fine with her. It had been pleasant at first to hear all of those songs from when she was a kid and a teenager. From before everything in her life changed irrevocably. But after Melanie mentioned that trip—the last trip she’d taken to the Upper Peninsula, and the last one she had ever meant to take until that stupid warm day in March—she knew she couldn’t listen to any more old songs and keep her composure, which she was determined to do. Other people might burst into nostalgic tears at the drop of a hat, but she was not one of those people. What’s done is done and can’t be undone.

  The storm gave her something else to focus on. The closer they got to Lake Superior, the worse the weather got. Olivia could feel the wind trying to nudge the car off the road. She considered stopping to wait it out, but the numbers on the clock had her pressing on.

  Not long after they passed through Munising, Olivia saw flashing lights in her rearview mirror, though she couldn’t hear any sirens over the pounding rain. She pulled to the side of the road and let a state trooper pass. A minute later it was followed by another. Then an ambulance, then a fire truck. With each emergency vehicle, Olivia’s stomach dropped a little further and the lump that had formed in her chest rose up her throat until it was sitting on her voice box.

  “Something awful must have happened,” Melanie finally said.

  Olivia stared straight ahead and put all of her energy into focusing on the gray line of the road that could just be distinguished from the varying grays of the skies above, the lake to their right, and the rain all around. The colorful drive had turned dark and dull, and the only bright spots were the headlights and taillights of other cars and the spinning lights of the first responders.

  On a fairly straight stretch of road along the Lake Superior shoreline, Olivia slowed to a crawl of less than five miles per hour. A cluster of flashing lights marked the spot where all of the emergency vehicles had converged. In the center of it all was a motorcycle on its side and a man facedown in the street. Olivia gripped the wheel tighter. Melanie covered her mouth with her hand. Was this what the scene had looked like at their parents’ accident? It had been raining then too.

  A drenched police officer held up a hand. Olivia stopped the car and waited for clearance to go. With every second that eked by in view of the man in the street, she felt her heart rate tick up, up, up. She risked a glance at Melanie, and the panic left in a whoosh. Her sister was looking into her phone and fixing her hair.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia said, incredulous.

  “Shh. Just be quiet a minute.” Melanie tapped the screen, waited a beat, then started to talk. “Hello out there, my Mellies. This is Melanie Greene at a moment of crisis, coming to you on behalf of a fellow sojourner who needs your help. As I film this, a man lies in the street in the pouring rain. There’s been an accident. First responders are on the scene, but it’s not clear from where I sit if the man is dead or alive. If he is alive, he is most certainly unconscious. He does not have a helmet on. I’m asking you right now, wherever you are, to stop what you’re doing and start to pray. Send your prayers up to heaven, send your good vibes and warm thoughts to this man. Whatever goodness and positive feeling you have, project it out toward Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, which is where I am right now, and I’ll help channel it all into this man. We may never know the outcome—the officer is telling us to move ahead—but the Universe will. And the Universe works in mysterious ways.”

  Olivia stared open-mouthed as Melanie made a peace symbol at the camera and then blew it a kiss.

  “Remember, my Mellies, you control your destiny. Peace, love, and life to you.” She clicked off the camera and started swiping at the screen.

  “What. Was. That?” Olivia said.

  “Go,” Melanie said, motioning to the officer who was now approaching the car.

  Olivia waved an apology and crept forward past the flashing lights. Melanie continued to fiddle with her phone.

  “We need to get somewhere with better reception,” Melanie said. “How far are we from Marquette?”

  Olivia struggled to keep her tone even. “What were you doing just now? Were you just using a quite-possibly-dead man to up your YouTube numbers? What is wrong with you?”

  “Of course not,” Melanie said, obviously offended. “I was using my already very high number of viewers to help him. I would have thought that was obvious.”

  Olivia let out a skeptical little puff of air. “Good vibes and warm thoughts? That’s what you think will help this guy? Whatever hope he has of ending this day in a hospital bed rather than in a locker in the morgue is standing around him in uniform. Positive energy from your Mellies, whatever those are, has nothing to do with it.”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue about this right now. Can you please just get us to Marquette? I need to upload this as soon as possible.”

  “I can’t believe you of all people could think that thoughts and prayers have any effect at all.”

  “I said I don’t want to argue about it,” Melanie said with more force.

  Olivia bit off her next reply. When they were children, she knew just how to get a rise out of her little sister. She’d always loved an argument. It was why she became a lawyer. But she didn’t want to fight with her sister now. She wished they got along better, and she knew that a lot of their problems were probably her own fault. She was really the only person she knew who didn’t get along with Melanie, the most get-alongable person in the world.

  For now, she would put all her energy into getting them to Marquette. For dinner, which she suddenly realized was way overdue, and for whatever flaky purpose Melanie had in perpetuating the archaic belief that there was a god or a force or some greater meaning to the universe, something that cared about what happened to the billions of inconsequential humans walking around on this indifferent planet.

 
But mostly for dinner.

  Melanie sat on the living room floor, hugging her knees in her plaid flannel pj’s and staring intently at the glittering pile of reds and greens, golds and silvers. Outside, the world was still dark. Inside, the room glowed with light and anticipation.

  “Just tell me one,” Melanie said to Olivia, who was seated in the wingback chair, pretending to read the newspaper, pretending not to care about the presents beneath the tree.

  “No.”

  “Come on, Olivia,” Melanie pleaded. “If you tell me one of mine, I’ll tell you one of yours.”

  Olivia turned the page. “No.”

  Melanie picked up a box and shook it. Olivia put the newspaper down on the coffee table and knelt next to her sister. “I know what that one is,” she teased.

  “Tell me,” Melanie said, eyes alight with that special mania that comes over children on Christmas morning.

  “No,” Olivia said with a smug smile. “You’re going to find out soon anyway.”

  Melanie flopped onto her back. “They’re taking forever!”

  Olivia tucked the box back under the tree and picked up one of her own.

  Melanie sat up. “I know what that one is.”

  Olivia had her own suspicions, but she was trying not to get her hopes too high. If she was wrong and the box didn’t contain a Tamagotchi—if it was the cheaper knock-off Giga Pet that would solidify her status in her friend group’s second tier, for instance—she’d still have to act pleased when she opened it. She handed Melanie the box she’d just been shaking.

  “Okay,” Olivia said, her voice as official and older-sistery as she could make it. “I won’t tell you what it is, but I will answer three yes-or-no questions about it. And then you have to do the same for this one.”

  Melanie spun to face her, sitting as close to her as possible without actually landing in her lap. Olivia scooted back a few inches. Melanie scooted up.

  Olivia put her hand out to stop her. “Okay, ready?”