Page 30 of What You Never Knew

We sat in silence, breathing as quietly as possible, waiting for sounds from downstairs to give us some indication as to what was happening. We heard the sound of the front screen door slamming shut and then the low, deep rumble of our father’s voice and the high-pitched surprise of my mother’s. There was a screeching sound as the needle on the record player skidded across the record, and then the music stopped. Raised voices followed, and my sense of normal quickly slipped away.

Up in May’s room, we couldn’t hear anything but the tone of our parents’ voices. We sat in silence, listening, for a little while, but then May told me to go back to my room. She said she was going to sneak down and listen at the bottom of the stairs. I told her to come back as soon as she knew what was going on and tell me. She promised she would. Looking back now, I realize it was the only promise to me that my sister didn’t keep.

My room was dark and lonely compared to the warm glow of May’s room. My sheets felt cool and too crisp when I slid into bed, and I immediately regretted letting May leave me on my own to go downstairs. I lay in bed, straining to make out any word at all from the steady hum of voices below me. They all suddenly seemed so far away, as though I’d been left behind and nobody had realized. I lay there waiting for one of them to remember me. Waiting for my door to open so that I’d be pulled back into the fold of my family. Waiting for one of them to come tell me that everything was going to be okay. I was young enough back then to believe that was possible.

At some point I must have drifted off to sleep. When I woke, the cottage was silent, and I foolishly took comfort from that fact. I got up out of bed, planning on going into May’s room to wake her up and demand that she tell me all she’d heard. When I tried to open my bedroom door, it was locked. I thought about banging and calling out for someone. Then the thought crossed my mind that whatever drama had been happening downstairs between my parents had been put to bed. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to bring it to life again. So I crawled back into my own bed and once again waited, convincing myself that everything was fine, that the rest of my family had gone to bed and would rescue me in the morning.

When I woke up, I tried the door, and it was unlocked. I stood in the hallway, confused and listening for some understanding of where everybody was, when May suddenly stepped out of her room. She was pale, and her eyes were red and puffy. I was opening my mouth to ask what was wrong with her when my mother called from downstairs.

May rushed to my mother’s summoning, and I quickly followed. The locked door, the yelling the night before, my father’s arrival, and May’s appearance all fell away into unanswered oblivion when my mother told us that my father had left and was not coming back. That we must pack up our things and leave Avril Island.

My phone buzzes with a text, returning me to the present. It’s from Ezra. He’s going to be back earlier than expected and asks if I want to have our date tonight. The thought of seeing him again so soon and not having another night alone makes me nearly giddy. I wait a few seconds before replying, not wanting to look as desperate and excited as I am, then send a simple reply: Sure. Sounds good. He writes back that he’ll pick me up at eight PM and I send him a thumbs-up emoji, then curse myself for it.

No longer wanting to sit here with my past and my confusion over the locked door, I decide to get up and move. I’ll give my trail a test run and hopefully burn off the nervous energy that tonight’s date is already causing. I push up off the glider, leaving it swinging, and go inside to put on my running things.

I have to keep my eyes on the ground, as there are still rocks to avoid, but I’m able to look up every so often and appreciate the view of the water on one side, the forest on the other. I go at a slow pace, since it’s been a while since I’ve done a full run. Not so slow that I don’t get a good sweat going, though.

I make it to the end of the island and stop to splash some water on my face. Since I’m there, I decide I might as well take a look at the tree, make sure that it still hasn’t been disturbed by anybody. As soon as I reach the clearing, I wish I hadn’t come.

The wooden cross is once again propped up in the dirt in front of the tree. “What the fuck?” I actually say out loud before bending down, grabbing the cross, and snapping it in two. The sound of the wood breaking echoes too loudly through the trees. Holding a piece in each hand, I look around guiltily, as though someone will appear to reprimand me. Nothing happens, of course, so I fling the pieces in opposite directions.

It’s got to be a group of kids fucking with me. Until I arrived, they were using Avril Island as some secret meeting place. My presence has pissed them off, so they’re trying to freak me out. It’s the only plausible answer.

I make a mental note to put up NO TRESPASSING signs, maybe some fake security-camera signs as well. Feeling only slightly better at the thought, I return to the main trail. Wanting to rid my mind of locked doors and reappearing crosses, I push myself hard on the run back, arriving at the cottage dripping with sweat, my legs burning, and my brain, fortunately, empty.

I choose the dress with red flowers for my date with Ezra. I aired it out on the line earlier today, along with all the other dresses. It was quite a sight, a dozen versions of my mother blowing in the wind. May would have taken a photo for sure. I couldn’t bring myself to.

I’m standing naked in my room, going through my underwear, trying to decide which pieces look the least worn. I brought only comfortable underthings with me on this trip, not imagining there’d be a reason for anything else.

Thinking of the expensive collection of lingerie just sitting in my mother’s drawer down the hall, I wander down to her room, all the while wondering how weird it would be if I wore my mother’s underwear. Pulling out a black lace bra, I easily find a pair of underwear that matches. I’ll just try it on, I think.

The underwear fits perfectly; the bra is a bit tight, but in being so, it gives me some very attractive cleavage. Surveying myself in the mirror I’m able to forget that they belong to my dead mother. Who will ever know, anyway?

I get the dress zipped up, slide into the matching shoes, and then lean over the bathroom sink to apply some makeup. I find a tube of red lipstick on my mother’s dresser, and after cleaning the tip with some makeup remover, I’m able to spread some on my lips.

By the time Ezra arrives, I’m already on the dock waiting. He’s brought a different boat this time. It’s much bigger, with a flatter hull and a covered area where the steering wheel is. He eases it up to the dock and hops out. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a black T-shirt and no shoes, of course. I feel absolutely ridiculous in my dress, heels, and red lipstick.

“My god,” he says. “You look stunning, June. And I hope you don’t mind me saying, but from a few feet out I would have sworn I was looking at your mother’s ghost. And that’s meant as a compliment,” he’s quick to add.

“Well, I’m feeling slightly overdressed. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

He holds a hand out to me. “It’s perfect. I mean it.” I take his hand, and he pulls me in. “Don’t change a thing,” he says into my ear, his voice low and gruff.

Butterflies kick up a storm in my stomach. “Not even the high heels?” I ask.

He takes a step back to look at my shoes. “I’d say ditch the heels. Or ditch the dress and keep the heels. One works, but not both.” I swat him on the arm and he laughs, then pulls me in for a hug. “Is it weird to say I missed you?” he says, holding me close.

If it were anyone else, it would be weird and it would scare me, but Ezra has always been like this, open, loving, and intense. I wouldn’t know him any other way.

“No,” I say softly, before stepping out of his embrace. “So, seriously. Are shoes needed where we’re going?”

He shakes his head. “No. I try to avoid those places at all costs. Just leave them on the dock, and let’s go.” I kick the shoes off, and he guides me toward the boat and takes my hand to help me in.

“This is a pretty serious boat,” I say, glancing around at the shovels and rakes hanging inside the covered steering-wheel area.

“It’s my work boat,” he explains as he starts the engine. “Not the fanciest mode of first-date transportation, I know. I mean, it’s no limousine.” He eases the boat away from the dock.

“Well, a limo wouldn’t do us much good out here on an island. And anyway, despite what you may think, I’m not a fancy-transportation kind of girl. A utility boat will do just fine.”