‘And your imaginary husband … did you make him up, too? Where is John this lovely evening?’ I teased, glancing over at my sister.
Madeline’s bright red cheeks and toothy smile faded almost immediately. The worried look returned. I was half-expecting another stupid joke to follow, but when my sister pursed her lips and changed the subject, I knew something was wrong.
‘Let’s show Aunt Emily the bedrooms, shall we?’
Shelley and Ben wanted to show me their rooms first, of course. Overcome with nostalgia, I let Ben give me the tour of his bedroom, the same room where my sister had slept when we were kids. The Debbie Gibson posters and purple speckled paint were gone, replaced by neat brown and blue wallpaper, pictures of boats and trains on the borders.
‘Mom’s going to let me paint it soon. I don’t want these baby pictures no more. I want Five Nights at Freddy’s covering my walls.’ Ben raced back and forth in front of his TV set, running the tips of his fingers along the wall. There was a clear wear pattern in the carpet where I suspected he paced a lot.
‘Do you know the game Five Nights at Freddy’s? Want to play it with me?’ Ben asked, his words loud and strung together.
‘He’s obsessed with it,’ Shelley whispered, squeezing her tiny hand in mine.
Before I could answer Ben’s question, Madeline replied, ‘I’m sure Aunt Emily would love to, but not right now. We’re going to finish showing her around the house first.’ Ben made that high-pitched squeal again and saddled up to a laptop that set on his desk.
We left him there, already focused intently on his game, while we moved on with the tour.
Next was Shelley’s room. It was only one door down from Ben’s, but this room was smaller. This was the one I was most excited to see because Shelley’s room used to be mine.
Expecting to see a huge change in décor, I was shocked to see the same pink plaster, with tiny unicorn paintings on its surface. I’d painted those unicorns myself when I was only eleven years old.
‘You didn’t paint over them…’ I reached out to touch one of the unicorns. With its blue-black eyes and a long golden horn, it was sneering in a way that now almost seemed grotesque.
‘Of course not,’ my sister said.
‘I thought Mom would kill me when she saw what I’d done,’ I whispered, still running my fingertips over the bumpy paint.
‘Oh, I didn’t. I knew she’d love your little masterpiece,’ Madeline said, quietly. I didn’t have to see her face to know there was a trace of resentment there.
While she was always my father’s favorite, I was my mother’s baby. So, it was no surprise that when they split, we both took separate sides…
You let her get away with everything! I could still hear my sister’s startling screams echoing through the hallway. She loved me to death when we were kids, but our teenage years were strained.
The bedroom closet had white pocket doors that also looked the same. They were pushed halfway open, and without thinking, I reached for the handles, eager to see inside it.
‘I did paint over your stuff in the closet, though.’
My hands froze on the handles. ‘I’m glad,’ I mumbled as I turned away from the closet.
‘I love your bedrooms!’ I was trying to be one of those perky aunts, with overdone enthusiasm, like the ones you read about in wholesome novels, but in truth, this whole situation felt awkward and strange. I wasn’t used to being around kids, and even though I was thrilled to meet them, I couldn’t help feeling like an actress playing the part of ‘Aunty Em’. I should have come home when Ben was born, and then Shelley, and there were plenty of chances in between too – birthday parties, and the funeral – but I wasn’t ready to face this place, not yet, at least.
‘Shelley, why don’t you go play with Ben? Or take some of your dolls out of the trunk? Your aunt and I are going to have some coffee and a little chat. Please don’t fight with your brother. I would hate for Aunt Emily to see you guys get in trouble.’
Ben had drifted back into the hallway and he was clinging to Madeline’s leg. ‘Go on now, you two.’ She gently nudged them. They galloped toward Ben’s room, pushing and shoving one another in a race to see who could get there first. I smiled at them, overcome by my own memories of sibling rivalry.
Grateful to have a moment to speak alone with my sister, I followed her back down the hallway toward the kitchen. I hadn’t seen the rest of the house yet, and I was eager to see which bedroom Madeline had chosen for her and John, and which bedroom she’d put me up in for my stay.
‘The kids are beautiful. I wish I could have met them sooner,’ I said to her backside as she walked.
As soon as we were back in the kitchen, she set to work pulling out coffee mugs and plugging in her Keurig machine.
‘John left me for another woman.’ Her back was still to me when she blurted out these words, and I saw her hunch down in a defeated posture.
I took a seat at the table, flinching as the chair squealed loudly across the tile floors. I wasn’t sure what to say. I was shocked, to say the least.
Mournfully, I watched my big sister glide around the kitchen, taking a package of cookies down from the cabinet and choosing a coffee blend for both of us.
This was the thing about Madeline and me – we were comfortable in our silence together, even after all this time. I could tell her I was sorry and ask a million questions, but I knew she would tell me when she was ready.
After the cookies and coffee were on the table, she told me, in a hushed whisper, that John had been having an affair.
‘Did you know?’
Madeline shook her head. ‘I had no idea. He told me two Saturdays ago, out of the clear blue, that he was leaving me for his secretary. Her name is Starla. What kind of stupid name is that?’
‘Pretty freaking stupid,’ I agreed. ‘I’m so sorry. Have you filed for divorce?’
She took a sip of her coffee, and said, ‘Not yet, but I’m going to. I haven’t even told the kids. I covered for his sorry ass. Told them he was going on a business trip for a while. I thought maybe he would change his mind … but he hasn’t even called or come by once since his little crude announcement.’
‘He hasn’t even come around to call on the kids?’ I was shocked. I didn’t know John well. Sure, he’d seemed pleasant at the wedding, but that didn’t mean much. I tried to remember what I knew about him but it wasn’t much. He was essentially a stranger to me. Madeline rarely talked about him in her texts. There was one time she called me … what was it that he said in the background? I couldn’t remember. He’d been irritated about something, shouting about one of the kids. But she’d always given the impression that things were good between them.
Madeline shook her head in disgust. ‘He took a duffel bag of clothes and his bottle of cologne, and then told me he was staying at Starla’s for a while.’
What an asshole, I thought, clenching my teeth as I thought about those sweet little kids and my sister struggling to work and take care of both of them.
‘What can I do? Tell me how I can help.’ I took her hand in mine, my jaw still tight with anger.
‘Well, I could use your emotional support, for one. But most of all … the kids go back to school next week. I need more time – time to figure out what I’m going to do. Time to plan my next move. Also, I have to sell this house, Em. I can’t afford the utilities or the property taxes, not on my income.’
‘But the mortgage is already paid for.’
Madeline stuck up a hand to stop me. ‘I still can’t afford it. Well, I could if…’
‘If…?’ I pressed.
‘If I had a roommate. Or, I was thinking I could open it up again, like Grandma and Grandpa used to do…’
My heart filled with dread as I realized what she was asking.
‘I can’t move back here. I can’t. There are too many bad memories here, Madi, you know that…’
‘But there are good memories, too, aren’t there?’
I nodded slightly, unsure if there really were…
My sister’s eyes were filmy again. She was staring at an old-fashioned cat clock on the wall. Following her gaze, I suddenly realized that it was the same one that had always hung there. You can never go home again – those words pinged around my head like ping pong balls, but I quickly shook them off.
‘I can stay for a while. I’ll need an internet connection for work.’
‘Already have one,’ my sister gushed. Her face was red and cheery again, like a heavy load had just been lifted from her shoulders. I didn’t want to get her hopes up too much – I couldn’t stay that long.
‘Thank you, Em. I knew I could count on you.’ My sister threw her arms around me for the second time today, nearly knocking over the coffee between us in the process.
I rested my chin on her shoulder, staring out the kitchen window behind her. The sun shone brightly again, and through the trees, I could see a sparkle of water glistening between them. Those woods held nothing but horror for me, memories of the time I got hurt out there circling back for the first time in years…
Even though I was sitting here now, doing the right thing, I wanted to grab my own duffel bag and run from this place.
Maybe the saying means you can go home, you just shouldn’t.
CHAPTER TWO
The night trickled into the early morning hours, my sister and I chatting on the couch in the den. We chatted for hours after the kids went to bed, about John, about my lackluster love life. My sister asked me questions about work and college. Has your life turned out the way you thought it would?
It was strange how even after all this time, and distance, things between us felt the same. My sister was the only person who could pluck a thought, just like that, from my brain. The night had taken on a dreamlike quality, the wine she kept pouring making me fuzzy and strange.
By the time I stumbled back out to the car to retrieve my bag, I was overcome with sleepiness. The long drive to Bare Border and the hours of catching up had gone straight to my head. A rush of wind ripped through the trees surrounding the property, creating a thousand tiny whispers in the night air…
Like a timid child, I yanked my bag out of the trunk and ran back inside with my head tucked down to my chest.
Madeline was waiting for me in the doorway. She looked tired too, and she pointed down the east hallway as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.
‘I put you up in the guest room. The Mello Yellow Room.’
I nearly choked when she said that – either from tears or laughter, I didn’t know. I’d forgotten we called it that because it was so yellow, like our favorite citrusy drink when we were kids. Mom had painted the room herself, and she’d chosen this god-awful mustard-colored paint that gave the room its name today.
Well, it’s my sewing room. So, it doesn’t matter if you girls like it or not, my mother had huffed. She would sit back there for hours some days, her posture perfect and stiff as the machine whirred and droned out its own methodical beat.
There was a pang in my chest as I dragged my bulky bag down the dark hallway, which was on the other side of the house as Madeline and the kids.
With the kids asleep and my talk with Madeline over, the house resumed its crypt-like silence. The door to the old sewing room creaked open and I felt around for a light switch.
When the lights popped on, I gasped. Mello-Yellow was no more; the walls had been repainted a soft petal pink.
As I tossed my heavy bag on the full-sized bed in the middle of the room, my chest thickened with fury. How could you, Madeline?
The room was mostly bare. It was obvious that it was rarely used anymore.
Besides the bed, there were a small heart-shaped nightstand and a stout chest of drawers in the corner. I walked around the room, eyeing the pale pink walls.
My mother had painted this room yellow. With her own hands.
Now she was dead, and her hands would never create, paint, cook, sew, or hold me again.
And you just had to paint over it, didn’t you, Madi?
It had been a long time since I’d felt this sort of anger toward my sister. I’d nearly forgotten how easy it was to dislike her sometimes…
It was now, in this moment, that I realized I’d never gotten over the fact that it was her and Dad on one side, and Mom and I on the other. After twenty-five years of marriage, Mom had found out he was cheating. Instead of kicking my father out of the house that they had raised their children in, she had packed up her own belongings and left town. Madeline and I were adults by then, but still – their divorce had shaken me to the core. I was furious with my father; I wouldn’t even speak to him for months. But my sister, on the other hand, shamelessly defended his actions.
He deserves to be happy. You know he’s never been happy with her, Emily! This is good for both of them, don’t you see that? My sister tried to reason with me, but she always made it sound like Dad was doing Mom a favor by cheating on her, or that Mom was somehow responsible for his misdeeds. She took his side and I took Mom’s. We drew our lines in the sand and tossed handfuls of nasty words across the middle…
But it turned out Mom didn’t need me to defend her because six months after moving into her own apartment, she suffered a massive heart attack. I would never say this to my sister, but I’m certain she died of a broken heart. Losing my father killed her – literally. And even though, deep down, I knew it was completely irrational, I blamed that man for her death. I blame him still.
Now he’s gone too, and there’s no one left to blame.
Is that why I stayed away so long … because of him? I wondered. There were always excuses – visiting Madi and the kids was that one thing on my to-do list that always got carried over to the next week, the next month, the next year. I didn’t want to see my father, but it wasn’t only him, it was the ghosts of my past – old friends, old boyfriends, and … the woods. I hated those damn woods.
Shuddering, I thought about my sister’s current situation with her own husband, John. He was cheating on her, just like Dad did to Mom.
Deep down, there was this niggly, nasty part of me that wanted to say, It’s your fault. You didn’t make him happy, Madeline. This is better for everyone; don’t you see that? Give her a taste of her own medicine.
But those sorts of vicious thoughts made me instantly feel ashamed. I wanted my sister to be happy, and despite what happened with Mom and Dad, she didn’t deserve to be treated that way by her husband.
I yanked the duvet off the bed and crawled beneath the sheets. My new silk pajamas were folded away in my bag, and I casually considered getting back up to slide them on, but then my thoughts were still muddled, my feelings toward my sister unclear…
Maybe Dad had painted over Mom’s walls. He lived here up until last year when he died, after all. But with my eyes closed, I could still see that pretty shade of pink. It was something Madi would choose.
Should I ask her about it tomorrow? Or am I just being petty and overly nostalgic about Mom? Before I could give it a second thought, there was a soft tap on the door.
I pulled the covers up to my chin, strangely afraid. ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s your sister, silly.’
The door was unlocked, and a moment later, Madeline pushed it open a crack and looked in at me. ‘You got everything you need? What time do you want me to wake you up?’
My mind was still angry over the paint and mom, but I said, ‘I’m fine, and I’ll set my alarm myself.’
‘Thanks again for coming, Em. And thanks for staying a while. You have no idea how much this means to me.’
I nodded, still unable to meet her eyes. I wanted to cry about the paint on the walls. I wanted to cry over my mother’s death. Hell, maybe I wanted to cry about dad, too. I wanted to be left alone.
Mom doesn’t live in the layers of paint on the walls, Emily, I reminded myself. But this was exactly why I didn’t want to come home. When I was away, I could push it out of my mind. I could forget. But here, there’s no avoiding the past…
‘Goodnight,’ Madeline said, pulling the door back closed.
‘Madi? Wait. Why didn’t you just tell me over the phone? I don’t understand why it was such a big deal, why this thing with John was some sort of secret?’
My sister peered back in through the crack. Her mouth looked droopy and strained, her eyes getting that far off look in them again…
‘That’s not the only reason I asked you here. There’s more. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow.’
The door clicked shut. I listened to the soft tapping sounds of my sister’s footsteps moving down the hallway. What the hell does that mean? Why is she being so vague and mysterious?
I slipped back out of bed and flipped out the lights. Before getting back in, I tiptoed over to the window and peeked out through the blinds.
The backyard was dark, but I could see billowy shadows dancing in the distance – the trees in the forest never went to sleep.
They were always there, watching me, haunting me, even when I lived far away … those creepy woods were the one thing I hadn’t been able to forget. Sometimes, I still dreamed of falling, falling, falling…
I wonder if it senses me, if it knows I’ve come back home. Again, I scoffed at my own childish notions. Maybe my sister wasn’t the only one acting strangely. Being here was bringing out the worst in me already. Those slender crevices are splitting open—waiting to be filled with memories … memories I’ve lost forever.
What my sister didn’t know was that I had a secret too. Mine wasn’t as cryptic as hers, but it was equally important.
She’d been asking me to come back home for so long. And I’d never planned on actually coming, but there were events that had occurred over the last few weeks that made the timing just right for a trip back home.
I’d lost my job at the paper. I hadn’t told Madi yet, although she’d given me plenty of opportunities to bring it up earlier this evening. But I would. I’ll tell her tomorrow, I decided.
So, even though I could stay and help out with the kids for a while, I couldn’t help much with bills until I found a new job. There wasn’t much work to be had in this town, and even if I did find a job, I didn’t want to stay here long enough to need one anyway.
I crawled back into bed and pinched my eyes shut, desperate to sleep away the worries. I thought it would take hours to drift off, but my mind turned cloudy and wild, and within minutes, I was dreaming of the trees.
CHAPTER THREE
When I woke up, the house was shaking, the tat tat tat of heavy rain pounding the windows and rooftop like a gangster from a black-and-white mobster movie. Startled, I sat up straight in bed. Mom’s old sewing room drifted back into focus.
Coming back to Bare Border hadn’t been a dream after all. Too bad.
As though my movements were their own version of an alarm, someone rapped on the door.
‘I’m up, Madi,’ I grumbled.
‘It’s Ben.’ The door creaked open and one big brown eye peered in at me through the crack.
‘It’s storming. Can I get in bed with you?’
I was surprised but tried not to show it. I’d only met my nephew yesterday. ‘Yes, of course.’
I pushed the covers back and motioned for him to crawl in beside me. He bounded toward me like a Saint Bernard minus the slobber. He jumped up and down on the bed, to the count of eight, then wriggled like a worm beneath the blankets.
I wrapped an arm around him and sniffed his soft brown hair. It was too long, scruffy around his ears and hanging too low in his eyes, but it felt soft like feathers and it smelled like the same shampoo Madeline used.
Stealing a glance at my cell phone on the nightstand, I was surprised to see it was nearly eleven in the morning. Sleeping this late wasn’t all that unusual for me, but I was surprised Madeline wasn’t up making breakfast, or whatever motherly things she did on Saturday mornings.
‘Where’s your sister?’ I asked, stroking my fingers through his hair. He shied away from me now, skirting closer to the edge of the bed.
‘She’s been up for hours, too. She’s watching Teen Titans Go. I turned it on for her and poured her a cup of juice. I did spill some on the floor though…’
‘Where’s your mom?’
‘Where’s your mom?’ he repeated my words.
Madeline told me he liked to do this too – repeat words and phrases, and sometimes echo back what he’d just heard. I wasn’t sure if I should repeat my question or move on.
‘Okay, buddy. Let’s just get up. When I was your age, I liked to watch cartoons on Saturday. What is your favorite cartoon?’
‘I don’t watch cartoons. I play Five Nights at Freddy’s. Maybe they will turn it into a cartoon. Want to play it with me?’
I assured him that I would soon and listened as he described every level of the game while I pulled on cotton shorts and my favorite morning hoodie.
Ben told me more about the game as I padded down the hallway and made my way to the kitchen. Coffee. Why hasn’t Madi made coffee yet?
‘Is your mom sleeping in, too?’ I fiddled with the fifteen buttons on the coffee machine before I realized it wasn’t plugged in. Ben didn’t answer me, just stared up at the swooshing black tail on the cat clock, hypnotized. As I scavenged through the cupboard for coffee cups, my foot landed in a puddle of juice.
‘Okay,’ I said, flustered, switching my focus to finding paper towels.
After I cleaned up the spill, I made my way toward my sister’s room. On the way, I passed Shelley. She was sitting pretzel-style on the floor in her room. She was indeed watching Teen Titans Go and her lips were stained purple from the juice drink.
The door to my sister’s bedroom was closed.
‘Does Mommy normally sleep this late? I don’t want to wake her up…’
Shelley noticed me, finally, and waddled out into the hall.
‘No, Mom’s an early bird. Early birds eat worms.’
I smiled. I might have been my mother’s favorite, but she and Madeline had a lot in common; they both liked to get up early – too early for my tastes.
‘Well, your mom and I were up pretty late last night. I probably wore her out.’
Softly, I knocked on my sister’s bedroom door, then waited. Ben clung to my legs now, squeezing my thighs like a vice grip, as he rambled on about that game.
Shelley tiptoed up beside me, gave me a knowing look, and tapped the door with her pointer finger. She was right—it wasn’t closed all the way, and when she jabbed it, the door wobbled forward.
‘Madeline, are you still asleep?’ But even from here, I could see that she wasn’t.
The bed was perfectly made, the corners tucked in tightly, military-style the way she liked them. I pushed the door all the way open. My sister wasn’t in her room.
‘Madi?’ I called out again. I’d almost forgotten, there was a master bathroom attached. I jiggled Ben off my legs and walked toward the bathroom.
But one glance inside the open door revealed she wasn’t in there either. The bathroom was pristine, clean white counters with bottles of perfume perfectly aligned.
It almost looked like she never slept in the bed or used the bathroom at all.
‘Maybe she got up early and went to the grocery store.’ I shrugged. A quick glance out the front curtains revealed I was right – the tan Jeep was gone, only the rented Civic remained in the driveway.
‘While we wait for her to get back, why don’t I make you guys a late breakfast?’ The idea of me cooking was ridiculous, but I felt like I had to do something. If I couldn’t help Madi out financially, I could at least pitch in for a little while, with housekeeping and cooking chores.
