I thundered down the stairs, nearly going sideways in the narrow stairwell. Out on the porch, Eamon's motorcycle boots were missing from the line of shoes. Cold hung in the air from his departure. I needed to hustle up. I worked my feet into my boots and grabbed my coat from the old wood tree. “Ames, I need to run out for a bit. Keep an eye on Fiona for me, okay?” I called.
“Got it,” Amy yelled in response.
I hardly had both arms in the sleeves when I burst through the door and slammed it behind me. The cold pinched my cheeks as I zipped up my jacket and coiled a scarf around my neck. I'd just started to warm up and now I was back out in the cold. I followed Eamon's tracks around and behind the house. His strides were ridiculously long. Of course, he was mad, so that might have been part of it. As I looked ahead, I could see that his trail disappeared into the woods. Of course he’d gone that way. Nothing about this could be easy.
I walked double-time hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The sun was dropping down so fast it was like we were having a race. The deep evening chill was settling in. The sky overhead was still clear, but steadily darkening. What was left of the day's rays took the trees in the woods and turned them into spindly blue shadows on the snow. I had such a love/hate relationship with these woods. Amy and I had played for a million hours in them. But the farthest reaches held our darkest memory.
“Eamon,” I called. “Where are you? Wait for me.” My breath came in gasping puffs of white, such a shock to the cold that it hung in the air, not disappearing. No answer from Eamon. He was angry, and I couldn’t blame him.
I headed between the trees, now nearly running on the path. My mind had too much to process, so it all came in a deluge.I love him. Of course I love him. But are we ready for marriage? What if it didn't work? It would kill Fiona. It would kill me. It might kill Eamon. He knows there's something big between us and he doesn’t care, but I have to tell him. I'll feel so much better when I do.
I reached the point where the path split and of course, Eamon had taken the path I hadn't wanted him to. He'd gone right. This one was not well traveled and had tons of rocks, as well as downed trees across it and tangles of dead poison ivy. But at least there were only his tracks in the snow to follow. I would take what I could get right now.
“Eamon!” The cold was snapping at my ears like an angry dog. Why hadn’t I worn a hat? “Eamon! Please stop!” I was half-running now, dodging suspicious lumps in the snow, bracing myself on trees, my hand-knit mittens catching on the bark and doing nothing to keep out the cold.
Just then I saw a shadow move between the trees ahead. He was probably a good quarter mile ahead of me, but his legs were ridiculously long. No wonder he'd gained so much time on me.
“Eamon!” I yelled again. Snow started to fall—tiny, wispy flakes floating to Earth.
“Go back to the house!” Eamon's voice echoed between the trees, but knowing how mad he was only kept me going. Plus, I had to stop him before he got too far. Another half mile or so and he'd be through the woods and out to the road. The road where my mother hit a patch of ice and the car spun out, hitting a tree and killing her instantly.
I couldn't let Eamon get that far. I couldn't let him go. I couldn't let him get away from me. The desperation hung heavy in my chest, while every shade of gray and blue and white in the snowflakes was a reminder of that day with my mom. Every shadow in the trees was bringing back the hours Amy and I spent in the back seat, waiting for someone to rescue us.
I felt sick to my stomach, and desperately wanted to stop, but did Eamon have any survival skills at all? He was a rock star, for God's sake. Up ahead, I saw a dark blip of a shadow that had to be him, winding between the trees. I ran faster. I had to get to him. He was my salvation. I knew that now. My steps became desperate lurches. My foot hooked on a branch under the snow. I landed with a thud, my knee squarely meeting a rock. Pain sizzled up my thigh. I rolled to my back for a second then forced myself to my feet, running even faster. “Eamon! Please stop! I'm begging you!”
Like magic, he did what I asked. In profile, I saw him place his hands on his hips and look skyward. I kept going. I was gasping when I got to him.
“You never should've come after me.” He turned and looked down at my leg. “What happened?”
Sure enough, I had a gash in my favorite jeans. “I fell.” I reached down and touched my knee with my mitten. The blood soaked right through it.
“You’re bleeding.” He crouched down, his hands on my thighs. His presence was so powerful it made me want to weep. How could I be so desperate to hold on to someone while feeling so destined to push him away?
“You're right. I am terrified of marriage. I haven't told you everything about me. My parents. My family.” He looked up at me with his penetrating gray eyes and I had to start. I had to let it go. I had to unravel everything with five little words. “It was all my fault.”
Something about finally saying it was so overwhelming that I had to sit. I didn’t bother thinking about it. I sank to the ground. Right on my butt. The cold shot straight through me like an arrow. The melting snow soaked my pants. My knee throbbed, but I ignored it. I needed the strength for the words that were now spilling from my lips…
“I told my dad that my mom had been cheating on him. I told him that she made us spend time with her boyfriend, like she was trying to pretend he was our father. Dad was crushed when I told him, but he said everything would be okay, but I was sick and had a fever, and I don’t know. I think he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. He confronted her the next morning. Amy was at school, but I was at home. As soon as Dad left for work, Mom let me have it. She barged into my room and started screaming about how I didn't understand. She and Gordon were in love. I was so sick, half delirious from my fever. She told me that I had ruined everything. I had destroyed our family and things would never be the same.”
As the words rolled from my mouth, I could see the cold swirling around me. Blue. Black. Silver. The colors came at me like I’d climbed inside a dark kaleidoscope, and the images from the day were whizzing by me so fast I couldn’t keep up. This was like that day in the car. It felt so real, like it was right in front of me. Like I could reach out and touch Amy. Like I could touch my mom. If only for a second.
I sensed that Eamon was still by my side, but I had to keep talking. I came out here to tell him everything. “She started packing our suitcases. She said she was taking me and Amy to live with him. I yelled no and tried to run away, but she slapped me and told me to obey her. When I screamed that he wasn't even our family, she told me that I didn't understand. She made me pack my bag. She made me get in the car, in my pajamas, so we could get Amy at school. She made me go inside the building and stand there while my classmates walked past, staring at my tear-stained, fever-filled face. I listened to her lie to the school secretary about where we were going. I couldn’t say a thing. I was so terrified of what she would do. As soon as we had Amy, Mom practically dragged us through the parking lot. In the car, the screaming started again. If I had just kept my mouth shut, everything would've been fine. She kept saying it over and over again.”
I could see every frame of it in my head—my mother gaining speed, the dark stands of trees lining the road, flying past us too fast, sending choppy flashes of light into the car. I could feel the rumble of the tires over chunky ice and snow. I could hear her screaming at both of us, her voice raw and savage. Fury and rage. Amy cried. She sobbed, gasping for air.Stop it, Mommy. Stop it.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. Amy was so upset. I started yelling back at my mom, telling her she had to stop and take us home. Dad would come looking for us. He would know where we went. I was so desperate. I remember hearing that in my voice. I couldn't get her to listen. She just kept saying no. Over and over again.”
No. No. No.
“I was wrong. She was right. Amy screamed.”
Do something, Katherine. Do something.
“So I did. I said the worst thing ever. I asked her the worst question a ten-year-old kid could ever ask her mom. I shrieked it at the top of my lungs.Why are you such a fucking bitch? Why are you such a whore?”
Something wrapped itself around me. Eamon? I couldn’t see him. In my head, the movie kept playing. It rolled on. It didn’t care to stop.
“She turned around. She was so mad. So mad. And then the car skated across ice. Impossibly fast. It slammed into a tree. It ricocheted and slid backward. Down an embankment. My mother was still staring at me when the car stopped. Her neck had snapped. She was staring right at me. Bright blue eyes. Golden hair. Crimson blood leaking from her lips. The same face I see when I brush my teeth or put on my makeup. The same face I can never escape. I thought Amy was dead, too. She was unconscious. All I could do was pray that she would live. It was too late for my mom.”
