Worry

by Jessica Westhead

  She licks her thumb and scrubs at it, making Fern yelp, “Too hard, Mama!”

  “Sorry.” Ruth folds her hands into her lap, chastened. “You had some sauce on your mouth.”

  “Mmm.” Fern’s voice goes dreamy. “That was good pasta.”

  “You know that wasn’t real cheese, right?”

  Fern’s eyes widen. “What was it?”

  Ruth leans close and whispers in her daughter’s seashell ear, “Alien cheese.”

  Fern smiles. “Silly Mommy.”

  Ruth switches on the night light she’d packed, checks that the monitor transmitter is still on, tucks her trusty pair of foam safety bumpers securely in place under the fitted sheet on either side of the mattress so Fern can’t accidentally roll onto the floor in the middle of the night and snuggles Monsieur Foomay up under her sleepy child’s arm.

  The plush dragon with his shiny scales and wings is Fern’s favourite toy, and she used to tote him around with her everywhere. Now she mostly just needs him at night, but she still expects Ruth to be aware of his location at all times.

  Stef gave him to Ruth as a baby-shower gift, even though there was no baby shower. Ruth said it wasn’t something she wanted.

  She couldn’t picture herself at the centre of a room full of streamers and balloons, playing those stupid games where you had to wear a safety pin with a tiny diaper on it, and if you crossed your legs or said the word baby, then you lost your safety pin. She didn’t want her mom and James’s mom to collect the ribbons and bows from all the gifts and attach them to a paper plate to make a bonnet that Ruth would have to wear for the rest of the day, just to prove she was going to be a mother herself soon. Even though their moms would’ve liked that.

  But Stef gave Ruth the dragon anyway. James brought the present home from work, along with a card with a cartoon stork on the front. A pastel-pink bundle dangled from its sharp beak, and on the inside Stef had written, “From your knight in shining armour.”

  Ruth had held the soft toy in her lap as the wrapping paper drifted to the floor. She stared at her friend’s words in the card until they blurred. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing,” said James. “It doesn’t mean anything. She’s just joking.”

  “Why are you looking at me so hard?” says Fern. “Is there more sauce on me?”

  Ruth shakes her head and smooths out the blanket on either side of her daughter. “What did you think of the movie? Was it good?”

  “It was about a princess,” says Fern.

  “Yes, in a bog, right?”

  “What’s a bog?”

  “Like a swamp.”

  “Oh.”

  Outside the thin, rattling glass of Fern’s window, the wind makes a cartoon Woo! noise over and over again.

  “Was it funny like Puppy Commander?”

  “Nope.”

  “It wasn’t funny? What happened in it?”

  Fern clutches at Ruth’s arm. “She went in the water and she died.”

  Ruth thinks, Fuck. She says, “Really?”

  “The creatures got her. They made her go in the water and then she died and she grew a tail like a fish and she had a black hoodie on so I couldn’t see her face.”

  Ruth looks at the night outside the window.

  Fern says, “It’s darker here than at home.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Soon,” Ruth tells her. “We’re going to stay here for a while and have lots of fun first.”

  “I don’t want to stay here.” Fern starts to cry.

  Ruth grapples with her impatient sigh before it wrenches free and fills the room. She almost says, Me neither, but instead she asks, “How about I read you extra stories tonight?”

  The sobs slow to sniffles and Fern cuddles closer. “Okay, Mama.”

  THERE IS A voicemail on Ruth’s phone and she doesn’t want to listen to it.

  Her mother’s voice will be sad and that will make Ruth sad too. The notification sits there blinking at her, but she doesn’t press the button that will summon the gentle robot voice that will lead her to her mother’s message. She’ll listen to it later.

  Ruth lies next to Fern, who’s asleep now, and imagines strong arms around her, and a deep voice hushed and full of love.

  Then she sighs and sets her phone to Do Not Disturb. It’s too late to call her mom back anyway.

  The cottage is quiet and Ruth wonders if Stef and Sammy are still in the living room or if they’ve gone up to bed. She hopes they’ve gone up to bed.

  She eases herself off the mattress, careful not to wake her snoring daughter. She takes her phone and tiptoes to the door and cringes when it creaks open. She throws an anxious glance over her shoulder but Fern hasn’t moved. She closes the door and steps into the dark playroom.

  She stands very still and listens for noise from upstairs, but hears nothing. She climbs the stairs slowly. At the top, she inches the door open and peeks through the crack. The main floor is silent, and dimly illuminated by the stove light.

  Ruth is surprised because it’s late, but still early for Stef. It doesn’t matter, though. She’s glad for the break. She hurries to the screen door and frowns when she sees it’s unlocked. Do they always leave it unlocked at night?

  She slips on her sandals and slides the door open. She steps outside and closes the door and she’s alone, she’s alone, and she takes a deep breath of the cool, fresh, piney air that smells like Christmas.

  Then she shivers a little. She should’ve brought a sweater, but if she goes back inside to get one, she might wake someone up. She’ll tolerate being cold.

  She starts down the steep staircase to the beach and realizes she also should’ve brought a flashlight because the night is pitch-black. But she’ll manage. She grips the railing and makes her way to the bottom, and when she finally steps onto the sand, there is the moon, nearly full, shining on the lake. And the dock.

  When she gets there, she walks to the end and sits down on the rough wood and lies back, cradling her head in her folded arms, and looks up at the stars.

  All around her, the crickets and the frogs are singing. Every so often there is a small splash nearby, and sometimes a big one. There are other sounds too, harder to identify and potentially more ominous. Furtive rustling and snuffling from somewhere in the woods. Twigs snapping.

  But she isn’t worried. She’s here alone and the stars and the moon are so bright, and her dad’s voice is rumbling in her ear again, giving names to all of the constellations.

  Then, before she can stop them, her thoughts fly away to just a few years ago, when he was gone. Her father was dead, and the sandwiches at his funeral were crustless and very small.

  She’d lifted an egg-salad one from the silver tray on the long table in the middle of the crowded reception room and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, and the yellow filling squished out the sides and onto an upturned hand that was suddenly there.

  “Yum,” said Stef, “I love it when they make them with chives.” She licked the mess off her palm and winked.

  “I’ll get you a napkin,” said Ruth.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Stef told her. “You have enough on your plate today.”

  “A plate.” Ruth said the word like she was trying it out for the first time. “Can you get me one?”

  “Yes,” said Stef. “I can definitely do that.” She picked one off the pile and frowned at it. “It’s empty, though. I can’t give it to you empty.”

  Ruth stared at all the food laid out in front of them. “I don’t know what I want.”

  “Of course you don’t. Let me help you out.” Stef started loading up the plate even though Ruth wasn’t even hungry, but Ruth didn’t tell her stop.

  At the far end of the room, her sad mother raised her pale hand and fluttered her fingers in a wave, and Ruth repeated the motions back to her.

  “How’s she doing?” Stef asked.

  “As well as possible, I gue
ss.” Ruth shrugged. “Not good.”

  Stef pushed the plate with its mountain of miniature sandwiches and desserts toward Ruth, but Ruth shook her head.

  “I don’t think my mom would care if my dad died.” Stef plucked a lemon square off the plate and shoved it into her wide-open mouth, then mumbled, “That was a completely unnecessary and thoughtless thing to say, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” The collar of Ruth’s new black dress was too tight, and she tugged at it. She had gone to the mall immediately after her mom called with the news. She didn’t cry, she just went shopping. Because the only thought in her head was, I need a black dress. I don’t have any black dresses and I need one now. So she went and bought the dress without trying it on, and now she could see that was a mistake.

  Stef looked left and right. “Where’s James?”

  “He had to take a call. He didn’t want to leave but I said it was fine. He’ll be back soon.”

  “Are you serious?” Stef tossed the plate onto the table, spilling food onto the floor, and yanked her phone from the back pocket of her slim black pants. She hammered out a message and punched Send. “I told him to forget about work today. He’s on his way back. Now get over here and give me a hug while you’re waiting.”

  Ruth moved into her friend’s embrace. “How are the twins?” she asked against Stef’s shoulder.

  “Hell if I know. They’re assholes, I can tell you that much. Terrible twos all the way. Amelia has started vomiting out of spite. And when I said goodbye this morning, Isabelle took off her diaper and threw it at me. Fortunately, it was only full of pee this time. Anyway, Sammy’s got them today, so lucky him. I’m just glad for the break.”

  Ruth tensed at that and pulled away, but Stef wouldn’t let her go. She just held on tighter. “Jesus, I’m an idiot. Just ignore me, all right?”

  Ruth nodded and tried to smile, and the two of them stood there together under the high ceiling with the fluorescent light beating down.

  Every so often, random mourners would pass by and nod at Ruth. Their smiles were tentative and respectful but they never said anything.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t around when it happened,” Stef whispered in Ruth’s ear.

  “I know,” she whispered back. “It’s okay.”

  Even with Stef’s arms wrapped around her, Ruth was freezing. The air conditioning was too cold and there were Kleenex boxes on every available surface, and she imagined taking all the tissues out and weaving them into a blanket that she would climb under and never leave. She should’ve bought a new cardigan to wear with her new dress, but she didn’t.

  “What are you doing out here all alone, loser?”

  And here is her friend, appearing out of the darkness with a bottle of wine. Bounding across the dock and making it bounce, making ripples and then waves grow in the lake, forcing the wood and the water to accommodate her and her giant grin, which glows at Ruth as it gets closer and closer and then it’s gone, and Stef lays a heavy hand on Ruth’s shoulder and says in a low, urgent whisper, “We need to get naked immediately.”

  “What?” says Ruth.

  “Our children are asleep. And Sammy just told me he was really tired and he did this big, fake yawn and kissed me goodnight and said I should stay up if I wanted to, which means he’s looking at porn on his laptop under the covers right now so he’ll be occupied for a while. And your husband isn’t here. Which means you and I must go skinny-dipping right fucking now.”

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty tired.” Ruth yawns widely, then covers her mouth when Stef raises an eyebrow. “I was just about to head back up to the cottage.”

  “No, you weren’t. Liar. You were going to keep sitting here, lost in your sad, sappy thoughts, until I rescued you. Which is what I’m trying to do at this very moment, if you’ll stop being so stubborn and just take off all your clothes.”

  Ruth doesn’t move.

  “Here, hold this.” Stef reaches down to give Ruth the wine bottle, and then her fingers fly up to the waistband of her loose pants. She undoes the drawstring and lets them fall. “What are you waiting for? Take a swig and do what I’m doing.”

  She makes it sound and look so easy. She peels off her T-shirt next, and the skin underneath is smooth and firm.

  Ruth is sitting cross-legged on the dock and she can feel where her soft belly bulges out over the waistband of her jeans. She has always hated waistbands.

  “Come on, chicken.” Stef stands before her in her bra and underwear. Then she takes those off too, turns around and dives gracefully into the lake with barely a splash.

  And Ruth stares at her, like she always does. Awed by all the things her friend’s body can do. How capable it is.

  Stef surfaces, her long hair slick against her head, and smiles. “Have another drink,” she says. “You’ll feel better.”

  So she does. Then another. Then one more before she puts the bottle down and stands up.

  “Now strip.”

  So she does.

  “Look at you,” Stef says when Ruth’s clothes are in a heap at her feet. “Gorgeous lady.”

  Ruth shakes her head. “No, I’m not.”

  “Oh, get over yourself and take a fucking compliment. You better keep that negative self-talk to yourself, Ruthie, or else you’ll give Fern a complex.”

  She bristles. “I never talk like that in front of Fern.”

  “Good. And I don’t want to hear it, either.”

  Ruth breathes away her anger because she knows there is a purpose to this. This is what they do. Stef teases and Ruth bristles and then they both start laughing because it’s all so ridiculous, this pattern they repeat. The motions they go through together, always together, no matter what.

  She closes her eyes and plugs her nose and jumps into the water.

  And it’s wonderful. She is free and wild and not even too cold! She breaks the surface and opens her eyes, grinning, ready to admit, Okay fine, this was a good idea.

  But Stef is nowhere to be seen.

  Ruth looks all around. The moonlit lake is still and there are no sounds.

  “Stef!”

  Nothing.

  It’s deeper off the dock than she’d expected. Her toes can barely touch the bottom. She treads water with her heart beating fast.

  During the day, the water was clear and she could see all the way down. Now it’s black and she can’t see anything. Her invisible feet kick beneath her.

  More time passes. Where the fuck is Stef? Something brushes against her leg and she flinches away. Big fish with sharp teeth could be circling her right now. Anything could be in the water with her.

  She’d forgotten about the bloodstained pad in her underwear when she took it off, but she remembers it now. She remembers a room filled with that red metallic smell, heavy and warm and slightly sweet. She imagines the air and the water filling with it now. What that would attract.

  “Stef!”

  Still no answer.

  Her friend is gone and she’s alone in black water by a black forest with a black sky pressing down.

  Something catches her eye, far off to the left. A lonely light, glinting. Bobbing up and down, gliding along.

  He left a while ago, she thinks. That can’t be him.

  She blinks and the light disappears. Just the moon reflecting off the lake. That’s all it was.

  There’s a distant splash then, and laughter. “I’m over here!” Stef shouts from far away.

  Ruth releases the breath she was holding, the force of the exhale propelling her down. She kicks back up and calls out, “Okay!” Forcing a lighthearted tone and refusing to admit she was worried.

  Stef swims over with strong, confident strokes, getting closer and closer.

  Ruth imagines Marvin getting home and slipping quietly into bed next to his sleeping wife. She wonders if James is asleep now, or awake. What he’s doing alone in the dark.

  Just a few feet away now, Stef ducks under again. A moment later she resurfaces right besi
de Ruth and splashes her in the face. “Wake up,” she says. “The night is young.”

  Ruth retaliates with a quick flick of her wrist and Stef sputters under the spray, and they both laugh.

  Stef paddles over to the dock and retrieves the bottle of wine. She takes a big glug and passes it to Ruth.

  Ruth takes a long drink and sets the bottle on the dock. Then she lets her legs drift up so she’s floating on her back and gazing at the big, round moon. “This is pretty nice, actually.”

  Her friend grins. “What did I tell you?” Then she takes a deep, loud breath, and disappears again.

  IN THE MIDDLE of the night, Ruth wakes up and James is there.

  She stares at the wall in the dark and listens to his breathing, feels his warmth on the bed behind her.

  She could roll over and wrap an arm around him, rest her hand on his chest right over his heartbeat. But it sounds like he’s fast asleep, so she decides to keep her eyes closed too.

  She lies there and smiles and thinks about how good they are together. They’re great, actually.

  For the longest time, she used to worry that they weren’t. If she sensed any distance between them, she was sure that was the end. Or she’d say something and he wouldn’t respond the way she expected and she’d think, He doesn’t want to be with me anymore.

  But eventually she started to relax. She believed him, most of the time, when he told her he loved her. And then she’d catch him looking at her with a weird expression on his face, and for the rest of the day, she’d wait for him to tell her that he’d chosen someone else.

  The first time they kissed was the first time they met. In Stef’s dorm room, sitting together on Stef’s single bed. They’d been drinking, but not a lot. Stef had taken her little battery-powered boom box into the hallway to start a dance party, and suddenly Ruth and James were alone and he was giving her a big, goofy grin. Stef’s old stuffed cat, the one she’d brought to every sleepover at Ruth’s house when they were kids, was lying between them, grey and mangy and deflated. Ruth picked it up and tossed it on the floor.

  James said, “Hello, there,” and leaned in closer.

  Ruth said, “What about Stef?”

  He shrugged. “She’s like my sister. Or at least what I imagine a sister would be like. Different from you, anyway.”