Out of The Woods (20 page)

Inside, the spider climbed up into a corner, and began to spin its web. The girl sat down across from Halley.

“Do you know the answer then? Surely you do, if anyone does.”

Halley held her cocoa mug between both palms, wishing it were still warm. She didn’t know what to say. The scratches on the pinewood table were quite deep. Taking one hand from the mug, she traced one of them with her fingertip, just as Eden had done. She looked up. Through the kitchen window, she could see the full moon. “My name is Halley,” she began, taking her eyes back to the girl. “What’s yours?”

“Hope.” The girl said it quietly, as if she couldn’t quite fathom how her parents had labeled her with such an inappropriate name. She lowered her head onto the table, resting it on her long, thin arms. “Why won’t you answer me?” she asked wearily. “I’ve been here so, so long, waiting for your answer.”

Halley fingered the silver bracelet in silence. It was hard to know what to say. No matter what she said, Hope would draw the conversation back to the same thing, the choice between two men. She folded her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands. “Tell me more about your question. Tell me about the two men.”

Hope lifted her head from her arms, visibly relieved to be able to speak of this. “I can’t choose between them. I love Nick. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. And he loves me – he wrote me poems telling me he did, on baby-blue paper…the paper was so soft…”

She stopped, as if she didn’t want to continue. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was saying. “I love Nick, but I want to be with Andy. Something about Nick…something’s wrong. I know, the night I tried to kill myself, I know…he saved my life that night. But he’s hurt me too, somehow…”

She got to her feet and went to stand at the kitchen window, resting her hands on the cool edge of the metal sink.

As Hope walked to the window, Halley saw that her legs seemed bowed, like her inner thighs had shrunken away. In the moonlight, she could see Hope’s arms were fuzzed by soft down, giving her an animal-like appearance. Her jutting shoulder blades were visible through the back of her thin t-shirt, and were the final confirmation.
She’s anorexic
, Halley thought sadly.
I know that look.

Hope, staring out of the kitchen window at the dark, continued to speak. “Sometimes I think about those baby seals – Harp seals, I think they’re called. You know, the cute furry white ones?”

She turned to glance back at Halley, who nodded uncomfortably, unsure where this was leading.

“I think how, once – a long, long time ago – they wouldn’t have been afraid of people. They’d have just sat there if we walked up to them. I bet you could have picked them up, the really tiny ones, petted them.” She made a motion, as if stroking a small animal. Then she shuddered, and her right hand made itself into a fist; she held it enveloped in the other hand. She turned to look out the window again. Halley could feel the tension in Hope’s body.

“It all changed, didn’t it? People began killing them, both the babies and the mothers, clubbing them to death. I can see their blood in my mind, red blood on white snow. I think about them a lot. I think how they must feel – now, after seeing the killings – when a boat full of people lands.” Hope’s hands straightened out. She laid them long and flat on the cool sink, as if she were soothing a burn. “When I’m around Nick, I think I feel the way they must do.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. “But I don’t understand it. It makes no sense for me to feel that way. He saved my life…”

Halley swallowed. The image of the seals crowded her mind.

She didn’t want to talk about Nick anymore.

“Tell me about Andy.”

“Andy?” Hope sighed heavily. “He’s beautiful. He’s got this long, lean athlete’s body. His stomach’s not just flat – I can see every individual muscle in his abs. And God, he’s got beautiful shoulders…”

Halley made a face. “Is it just about his body?”

Hope shook her head. She looked inwards. “I thought it was at first, but really, it’s not about his body at all. He’s gentle. He makes me laugh. And he’s not scary at all.”

She stopped.

“Go on…”

Hope opened her mouth to speak, looked around quickly, and shut it again, covering her mouth with her fine-fingered hand. The moon shone, round and full through the window. It caught both their eyes at the same moment.

“The moonlight,” Halley said. “It reminds me of a night…”

“Yes!” Hope said, looking at the moon, “Yes! Me too! But I can’t remember it. Each time the moon is full, I think I’ll be able to remember, but I never can. I think if I can remember the night…the night I tried to kill myself…that’s the night it reminds me of…maybe it will help me…get better.” She looked over her shoulder and caught eyes with Halley, and Halley saw her left eye twitch. Hope placed the pads of two fingertips against the spot to steady it. It looked like a well-practiced gesture.

“Maybe I can help,” Halley said.

There was a long silence. Hope stared across the small room at Halley, as if across a treacherous mountain range. “How? I’ve tried to remember so many times. How can you help?”

Halley thought about it. What was it about strong memories? What made them so vivid? She thought about the times she remembered with most clarity: the death of her parents; the first time she’d met Fernando; the first time she’d made love; the first time she’d ridden a bike. What these memories had in common was that she could sense them with her body, could see them projected in her mind. She didn’t remember them in words, but in pictures. Colored pictures.

“What color do you see when you think of that night?” she said impulsively.

“Dark green,” Hope answered, without a moment’s pause. “I see dark green.” Her brow furrowed. “I never knew I saw dark green before. Ask me something else.”

“How about this? When you think of that night, what do you smell?”

“Smell? I’m not sure.” Hope sniffed the air like a young wolf. “It’s musty – like an old attic…or…maybe…like the woods, like old leaves? It’s cold, like it’s nighttime or winter.” Hope crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I shouldn’t remember. Maybe there’s a good reason not to remember.”

“It seems like you’ve spent a lot of time not remembering.” Halley looked around the dimly lit room. “Is this how you want your life to be, living all alone in this house, starving to death?”

Hope’s face flushed. “What do you mean, ‘…starving to death’”? I eat, I do. I’m okay. I’m better here alone.”

“Better than what?”

Hope looked away from the window, and stared at Halley with open hostility. “Better than I was when I was with Nick.”

“What do you mean?” Halley leaned forward. “What was it like with Nick? You said you loved him. That he loved you. That he wrote you those nice love poems on soft, baby-blue paper.”

Hope turned and walked out of the room, leaving Halley alone at the pinewood table. The kitchen door continued swinging for several seconds. Halley listened to the mournful sound it made. Moments later, Hope came back. She held a piece of paper. Sitting down in the other chair, she passed it over to Halley. In the dim light it was hard to tell the color, but it might have once been baby-blue. It was covered in fine handwriting, long cursive letters, written carefully. But there were spots on the paper, whitish spots of mildew, and when Halley held the paper between her fingers it felt damp and insubstantial.

“That was one of the love poems. He stopped writing them a long time ago. Now it’s like they were written by someone else, someone long gone.”

Halley breathed out hard. “That can’t be all, Hope. That’s not a reason to think about leaving him for this pretty boy with the great abs. A lot of people stop writing love poems when they’ve been together a while. It doesn’t mean they’ve stopped loving each other.” Halley thought about something Hope had said earlier. “You said you love Nick, present tense.” She held the love poem out to Hope, who didn’t take it. “This can’t be all. This can’t be the reason.”

Hope looked down at the table. “It’s not. It’s just…the things seemed to have meaning when they happened, but I…maybe it wasn’t deliberate…maybe I just imagined it all.”

“What? What things?”

Hope hesitated, and looked around the kitchen, as if for evidence. Her eyes lit on the knife block. “Like that,” she said, pointing at it. Nick and I would make dinner together. I’d do the vegetables and he’d do the meat. I didn’t like handling meat. But when he did it, I’d actually have to leave the room. He lifted the knife this little bit too high before cutting up the meat. Like he was relishing the moment of stabbing. I didn’t want to see it. It made me nervous.”

Halley could not take her gaze off the knife block. “Were there other things besides that?”

“I don’t know. He started picking on me, I guess. He called me names sometimes, “Hope, the Dope” or “Ugly Duckling”. He said the names like he was joking, but it wasn’t funny. I was afraid to tell him to stop.”

“What were you afraid of?”

Hope looked down at the old bit of blue paper on the table, and ran her fingers back and forth across the words, as if crossing them out. “I’d take him to my brother’s sometimes. I have this adorable niece – Amy – she’s just turned four – and Nick would play with her, throw her in the air and catch her and make her giggle. Only Amy stopped giggling after a while, and Nick didn’t stop throwing her right away.” Hope turned the bit of paper over and they both stared at the white spots of mildew on its back. “Amy started to hide in the closet when we came to visit. My brother and his wife thought it best if we stopped going for a while.”

Hope stood up suddenly, and walked to the basement door. She checked that the door was locked. Twice. She rattled it back and forth in its frame, three times, as if to make sure it would hold. The door made a reassuring knocking sound. Her eye twitched again when she sat back down at the table.

Halley’s eyes remained on the door. The moonlight shimmered on its glossy black paint, on the mock crystal doorknob.
It’s just like the door in my house with Fernando
, Halley thought, with a chill. She didn’t like the door; in fact, she hated it with a sudden passion. It made her think about how often she’d checked the door at home – it was never often enough. She took her eyes from it and focused on Hope instead. “Why don’t you just leave him? Go with Andy?” Halley fingered the silver bracelet.

“I don’t feel like I have a good enough reason. Just impressions. He hasn’t done anything bad. And like you said, I still love him…”

“You still love him,” Halley said, like this fact was of little consequence. She stared hard at Hope’s thin arms. “How do you know he hasn’t done anything bad?”

With a startling pop, the light bulb over the kitchen table burnt out.

Halley gripped the edge of the table. Through the kitchen window, the moon shone, glimmering off the glossy black paint of the basement door.

I should’ve checked it again. Once is never enough!

Hope had the same thought. She jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with fear. “Hurry!” she shouted. “We’ve got to make sure!”

Even as she was speaking, she was running across the room. Halley raced after her.

But it was too late. Light was already slipping between the edge of the door and its frame. Grabbing at the doorknob, Hope fought to hold it closed. Desperately, she tried to turn the dead-lock. But the door wouldn’t lock. The lock was misaligned. Even as she turned it, it spun uselessly.

There was a pull from the other side of the door. Something was trying to get out! Hope held the knob in a death grip, her face white.

“No! No!” she screamed.

Halley was breathless with terror.

Hope lost her grip. The door yanked open. She screamed, stumbling backwards.

Halley stepped forward. She blocked the doorway, wide-stanced, arms up. Something was trying to come into the kitchen. It was featureless in the dark. Then the moonlight hit it. She could finally see. This was no monster – no dream.

It was Nick!

His height, his physique – even his clothing – was just the same. But his face! It was heavy, weighty with rage. His eyes were strangely translucent, staring. They were the eyes of a madman.

She couldn’t let him in! There were knives there. She stepped forward, hitting him hard in the chest, shoving him backwards. It was like punching ice. He stumbled on the stairs, falling backwards a few steps. Her knuckles throbbed.

But he came back quickly.

She wanted to flee. But she stayed where she was. She watched.

He climbed the stairs. His smell was rank, unwashed. His hair tangled, filthy. His empty eyes held her. His arms reached for her. For a moment, his eyes seemed tender. Then the look vanished, replaced by a look of murderous intent.

Quickly, she struck, a back-fist snapped hard into his forehead. The blow stunned him. Her front kick slammed hard into his stomach. He fell, tumbling to the bottom of the staircase. She took a breath. But he was up quickly. He took the stairs two at a time.

“Stop!”

He just kept coming.

“I said stop!”

Nick climbed the stairs and she felt a sharp pain in her right arm that made her flinch. He came faster.

She took a step backwards.

Hope cried “No!”

The man stormed into the kitchen, into the cold moonlight. His eyes found the knife block.

Halley swung her leg in a sweeping kick. She hit him just above his knees. The force threw him against the wall of the stairwell. His head snapped to the side. He slid to the bottom of the stairs.

Quickly, Halley slammed the door. The lock caught on the first turn. Sliding the extra bolts across the top and the bottom of the door, relief flooded through her. She checked the door one more time, shaking it back and forth in the doorframe, and then looked behind her. Hope had sunk to the floor.

Halley moved to her. She took her in her arms. “It’s okay… it’s okay…it’s okay.” She gently rocked Hope in rhythm with the words. Slowly, calm filled the kitchen. She held Hope gently, trying to send her strength through the warmth of her body.

When Hope finally spoke, it was with the voice of someone broken. “It’s not okay. It will never be okay. That man…that Nick-that’s-not-Nick…he keeps coming back,” she said. “I can’t fight him anymore. I just can’t…”

Holding Hope, Halley felt her knuckles throb.

From the basement, all was quiet.