Coming Undone: A Novel

by JD Salyers

  The trail is barely wide enough for the ATVs, and if it weren't for their headlights they'd be completely lost in the dark. The trees overhead block any hint of the sky. Jakey sits on the seat in front of Landon, between his legs and the wide gas tank. He has both chubby hands spread on the speedometer in the center, trying to hold on. His eyes are round as marbles. He isn't crying, though. That's good.

  Landon squeezes the boy's waist a little with his thighs, just in case Jakey decides to try to jump or something. The kid is young, but he's quick and the last thing they need is an accident, especially in the dark. But Jakey seems content to sit and experience the ride, even learning to dodge errant branches that stick out into the trail. Landon spits as a cobweb wraps around his face. He hears Jakey squeal and knows it got him, too. He reaches and runs a free hand down Jakey's whole face. It's the best he can do right now.

  When they do come to a break in the trees, the moonlight flows in around them and Landon can feel that the wind has picked up. "Wha dat?" Jakey asks, pointing toward a skinny break in the clouds that glows.

  "You know what that is - it's the moon."

  "Moon," Jakey says, reverently.

  "Right." Landon steers the four-wheeler around the end of a fallen log and catches up to the others. He'd slowed down, his brain is doing something weird again. The shadows look too menacing, the warmth of Jakey on the seat in front of him feels wrong somehow. The moon is too bright, too white against the black.

  But he knows who Jakey is, at least. He knows his sons' names, he knows that Michael is there with them and that they are headed for their old camp at the end of this trail. Everything is fine.

  He tabs the hand brake to slow down in a bend, but the ATV engine screams and jumps forward. Before Landon can even react, it swerves and glances off a small tree, then rock sideways. Jakey screams. Instinctively, Landon throws his weight in the opposite direction, bring them back onto four wheels with a sharp jolt. The tires spin.

  "Get off the gas," James screams, barely audible over the roar of the engine. "Dad, the gas!"

  Landon realizes what he's saying, realizes what happened as the ATV catches traction and heads for another tree, this one over a small slope that leads toward the river much farther below. Lets off the gas. Loosens and adjusts his grip on the handlebars. The ATV slows and stops, not far from the bank.

  His heartbeat is blowing out his chest, and he can hear but not reach for Jakey, crying just in front of him. He has to force his grip from the handlebars. The night is hot and loud.

  "Dad," James jumps off his own machine and runs over, reaching past Landon to switch off the key. He picks Jakey up from the seat and holds him. "Dad, what the hell happened?"

  "I, uh." Landon looks down at his own booted feet. "I think I hit the gas instead of the brake," he said, feeling sheepish. "Sorry about that."

  "Are you all right?" James uses one hand to fumble his MagLite out of it's holster on his belt and shines it at Landon's chest. Peter jumps off his own machine and comes over. Now they were both looking at him. Peter put a hand on his shoulder. Landon shrugged it off. "Just a stupid mistake, is all," he said. "It's been a while since I was on a four-wheeler."

  He knows better, of course. He isn't about to say it, but he'd gotten his feet and hands mixed up - gas where the brake should have been. Squeezing the throttle instead of the brake, all because...well, he'd just gotten it mixed up for a minute there, although he would have sworn he was hitting the right lever. His body had done the opposite of what he wanted. "It was a simple mistake."

  "Yeah, Ok." James doesn't seem to believe him. Peter squeezes his shoulder again.

  "Need me to take over?" Michael yelled from the other machine.

  "Ha! No thanks." Landon forces a laugh, as if the whole thing is a joke, but it still hurts when James takes Jakey back to his own ATV and plants him on the seat there. They pull out again, Landon bringing up the rear.

  11

  The campsite is nearly unrecognizable, and they almost miss it in the dark. The only reason Landon calls a halt is because he recognizes a single tree in his headlights. It is one they'd used when the boys were small, the perfect height to hang their food in order to keep bears and other critters away. The branches spread wider than the others here, even wider now, years later. They make a welcome canopy of shade in the summer heat. Tonight they seem like monstrous fingers reaching for the men.

  The ATVs had scared the wildlife quiet, so the whole camp feels eerie when they shut down the four-wheelers and climb off to look around. Landon thinks it's funny - he can't remember which foot controls the brakes of the ATV, but he can remember a random tree from the last decade. OK, more frustrating than funny, but whatever.

  Jakey clings to his daddy, even when James walks across the brush-covered site and peers over the edge of the ridge, toward the river far below. Landon can hear it, roaring by down there, but from here it is just noise. He can't see much of anything, now that the headlights are off.

  He takes James’s MagLite and walks around a bit, kicking at the tall grass until his boot hits something solid. "Here we go," he says.

  Peter comes over and grins. "The fire pit. It's still here."

  "Huh." James says. He isn't paying attention. Landon hears the disconnect in his voice. Instead, James is thinking, looking down the steep slope at the river below, and Landon knows exactly what he's thinking because Landon himself had thought the same thing years and years ago - was it safe to have the boys so close to the edge of the cliff? Is it safe for Jakey now? Where one slip could send him tumbling to an icy death in the black water, out of reach?

  Of course it isn't safe. Just having him out here, instead of in his own back yard, isn't safe. But safety isn't always the first consideration. Jakey, just like Landon and Michael and James and Peter, needs to be challenged. Every man does, and this, these trips, are part of that. Jakey will learn, and then he'll be adept and resourceful like the rest of them.

  He makes his way through the tangled grass to James's side. "You guys survived," he says. "We'll all keep him safe."

  "Janice would kill me if something happened," James says.

  "Nothing will happen. It's fine. This isn't my first rodeo," Landon says with a quiet laugh. "You two used to give me three heart attacks a day, playing right here in this very spot."

  James chuckles at that and relents a little, finally letting Jakey - slowly - slide to the ground. Jakey looks around, but he's got to be feeling his father's hesitancy - he doesn't move, except to plop his butt in the grass that is mostly taller than him. Then he grins up at James and Landon and grabs a handful of dirt, lets it fly over the edge, into the abyss. Then he laughs, that irresistible baby laugh that gets Landon in the gut every time. Landon laughs with him. James smiles.

  Behind them, still standing near the ATVs, Michael says, "This place is a wreck." Landon shines the light his way.

  He rummages around in his pack for a minute and pulls out something shiny and sharp-looking. "You brought a sickle?" Peter says, his voice filled with laughter.

  "Well, a Weed-Eater wouldn't fit in my pack." Michael shrugs.

  Landon grins. "You tried, didn't you?"

  Michael shakes his head. "Alexandria wouldn't let me try." Then he comes to the fire pit and starts smacking at the weeds. James grimaces at his technique, but it's working - Landon hears the blade strike stone.

  The idea of Michael trying to do such a thing as fit a Weed-Eater into his pack breaks any lingering tension in the group, and they get to work building a camp. Peter and James start wrestling tents from the packs and setting them up, while Landon takes Jakey's hand and leads him away from the ledge. "Come on, champ. Let's me and you go find some firewood."

  "Fire!" Jakey yells. He pulls from Landon's grip and goes running toward the woods.

  "Hey, wait for me," Landon says, breaking into a jog. He doesn't get far before Jakey trips over his own feet and crashes down into the dead leaves and grass. When he struggles to hi
s feet again, a leaf is hanging from his hair to his forehead. Landon helps him up and brushes it away.

  He loves this child so much it hurts.

  They move further into the woods, with Jakey holding Landon's hand again. Landon shows him what kind of wood they need, but Jakey keeps finding logs - wood too big for either of them to lift. That doesn't stop him from trying, though. Landon finally distracts him by having him hold onto the thin sticks he's found, and Jakey seems content to do that.

  When they get back to the campsite, Michael has cleared a surprising amount of space. Peter has the tents set up, so Landon takes a moment to carry his pack into one. He takes off the holster, too, and tucks it into a pocket so that Jakey won’t find it. When he crawls back out of the tent, James is digging in his pack for a bottle of lighter fluid he brought for "heat-related purposes."

  Landon doesn't think they need the warmth, he's burning up, but the fire will fascinate the baby and keep any curious animals away. Also, they can heat up water - a cup of hot coffee sounds perfect about now. The air is getting damp. It hasn’t rained anymore, though, so that’s good.

  Speaking of which - he goes back to his own pack and digs through it. He starts pulling things out, looking for the...

  Wait. What was he looking for? His eyes scan the items in the pack, and he isn't sure. The flashlight is in his hand. He's wearing a jacket already. What the hell did he come over here for, anyway? He knows - it's on the tip of his tongue. He just can't...

  "Hey, Dad," James calls.

  Landon looks around. James has the fire going, finally. He's bathed in bright yellow light, and he holds up a jug of water and shakes it. "Can you grab the coffee pot? I know you brought it."

  Relief floods Landon's whole body. The coffee pot. Of course they would need it. He digs it out and carries it to the fire, ignoring that he still can't remember what he originally went over there to get. Hopefully, the coffee pot.

  At least he hadn't said something out loud and embarrassed himself.

  He hands the pot, an old-timey aluminum thing with a glass knob on top, to James and watches him fill it. He tries to ignore the irritation he is feeling. It isn't working too well.

  He stays quiet about it, but maybe too quiet. James fills the pot, sets it on a makeshift metal stand over the fire and stands up to face him. "You all right?" he asks, his voice kind of low. He hitches up his jeans and studies Landon's face. "You know you can talk to us, if you need to. That's kind of what this weekend is about, Dad."

  Landon turns away. "I thought it was about taking a break, having some fun."

  "That, too." James pauses. "You sure you're all right?"

  "I'm good."

  I'm forgetting stupid things. They slide through my mind like water down a drain, and sink to the bottom of the world. How's that for a confession from your old man?

  Landon thinks it, but doesn't say a word. It'll come off as anger, but Landon isn't angry with them. He's angry with himself. He just can't figure out what to do about it.

  The doctors told them this would happen. Right there on Bracer's fancy leather sofa, with Melody sniffling quietly beside him, Bracer had said Landon would get mad, that he would be dealing with all the stages of grief, as he called it. What had he said? DABDA? Dumb word, and Landon doesn't remember what the letters all stand for. Denial, maybe? Depression was another one, and he is positive anger was on the list. That's where he is now - the stage of grief known as anger.

  Not that it matters - anger won't help him remember the damned coffee pot, now will it? And what happens later, when he can't remember how to tie his shoes or use a fork? How does he deal with that? How does Melody deal with that? Landon won't be the man she married, the man she loves. He might deserve such a fate, but dammit, she sure as hell doesn't. She’s good as gold, too good for him. What kind of life punishes her for goodness. What kind of life -?

  "Dad?"

  Landon jumps and turns, his hands balled into tight fists. It's involuntary and he quickly releases them, but Peter notices. "Dad, what's going on?"

  Even Michael has stopped his assault on the weeds and is looking at him from the other side of the burning fire.

  "Nothing, son." Landon feels the anger leech from his body. It won't do any good to act out here, and it would probably do a lot of harm. The boys need to have a good weekend with their family, not nurse a failing old man out of his mental breakdown.

  "I just got lost in the memories for a few minutes there," he says, forcing a smile.

  "Well, this is a good place for it," Michael says. "Hey James, you remember falling out of that pine over there?" He points into the darkness.

  James laughs absently, remembering. "Sprained my wrist that time," he says, but he's still not taking his eyes off Landon. "But not as bad as that time Peter got lost. Remember that, Dad? He had Mom in hysterics and the rest of us searching for hours. You even called in those dudes with the helicopter."

  "I remember. That boy about drove us all into the nut house before we found him." Landon does remember. Melody hadn't wanted to stay that year - it had been a flooding sort of summer, and the river was running high down below. A lot like tonight, actually. He remembers the panic and the need to do something, anything, to bring Peter home safe and alive. He remembers feeling deep in his gut that Peter, no more that six, fell over the ledge and got swept away. He was ready to dive in and follow till he found him, too, but Melody threw a fit. She'd said she didn't want to lose him, too. She'd said that she couldn't do any of this - meaning raise a family - without him. She'd said that if he did, she'd never speak to him again. She had beaten on his chest, her tiny fists stabbing at his breastbone, making him pay attention. He'd gotten so wrapped up in soothing her that he'd been surprised when they brought Peter in, soaking wet and shivering. He hadn't fallen over the ledge into the river - he'd simply gotten turned around in the rain-soaked trees and lost his way back.

  He'd found an Indian arrowhead, though - he'd been proud of that.

  Melody had screamed and grabbed Peter up when she saw him safe and sound, and Landon hadn't known if she was trying to kill the kid or if she was just hugging the boy that hard. They had cut the rest of the trip short that year, and the helicopter had cost them nearly two grand. Melody proclaimed it worth it and wrote the check without a blink.

  Oh, yeah. He remembers, all right.

  Now he wonders if Melody remembers that summer, and that fear. He wonders if she's thinking about it now, safe at Janice's house with the baby. Maybe that's why she hadn't wanted him to go - residual fear, left over from the last time she nearly lost one of her boys. It would make sense, and it would also make sense that she didn't mention it to him - she believes words have power to make things happen.

  Landon can't say for sure that he agrees with her - but then again, he can't say he knows better, either.

  He catches Michael off to himself, sitting near the cliff and looking out and down over the river valley below. Thinking about James’s news, he goes to sit beside him. “Hey, buddy.”

  Michael looks up and for just a second Landon sees something terrible in his old friend’s eyes. It might have been fear, or pain, or grief – any of the emotions that accompany the idea of losing a beloved wife.

  “You all right over here?” Landon asks, finding a seat beside him in the dim light of the fire. Lowering his voice, he adds, “James told me about Alexandria.” He shakes his head. “Man, I am so sorry.”

  Michael looks away again, into the darkness. We’re all getting there, I guess,” he answers, his voice rough.

  “Still...”

  “You know, I always made her promise that I’d go first. You know, when it came time. I told her I’d be lost without here, and I would.”

  “I get it. I feel the same way about Melody.” It was true. Landon had tried before to imagine the house without Melody’s presence, and it hurt so much that he refused to ever consider it again.

  “It would be better if I went first,” Mic
hael says again, like Landon hasn’t even spoken. “She’s worried about leaving me to fend for myself.”

  Landon wants to say something funny here, to tease Michael out of this mood, but he can’t think of what, so he sits quietly with his friend, listening to the night birds and the river below.

  By the time the coffee is cooked and the area is relatively free of weeds, Landon is definitely ready for a hit of caffeine. Michael declines and takes his flashlight, heading for the river to wash the sweat and dirt off his face. Landon watches him go, thinks about going with him, just in case. In the end, he turns back to his boys and his coffee, determined to relax and enjoy the chilled night.

  There is something about the exact spot in front of a bonfire, where the cold night air hits the crackling red heat. It's an invisible line, but that's where Landon likes to be. Right in between, where he can get the best of both temperatures. Lean forward a bit, get warmer. Lean back and feel the breeze. He finds a log and drags it over, close enough to sit there and enjoy the sensations. Jakey, looking awfully sleepy now with one finger in his mouth and his other hand rubbing his eyes, perches beside him and snuggles into Landon's leg.

  "Hey, buddy. You getting tired?" Landon asks him.

  Jakey makes a noise, but he doesn't look up - he's watching the flames. Landon pats his shoulder and stares into the fire, too.

  What's it going to feel like when he can't remember Jakey's name?

  The question hits him hard, coming from nowhere. He can't imagine anything resembling an answer, so he gathers the boy up and holds him, savoring the sweet baby smell and the heat and the wind whipping through the treetops overhead. It occurs to him that he's becoming melancholy, but he can't see any way around that. This trip - the boys, the landscape, the bonfire - is as much a part of who he is as his name, and it won't be long before it all slips away.

  Peter and James are looking at a trail map of the area, talking quietly about a hike the next day. They'll ask if Landon wants to go, and he'll surprise them by saying yes. When they were boys, he wouldn't - he enjoyed sitting still when he wasn't working, and he was too old to keep up with a couple of teenaged boys. But now, when it might be his last chance, he'll go and he'll savor every moment.