Invisible Read online

  “Remember when we used to ride our hobbyhorses everywhere?”

  Galloping around the neighborhood, jumping over bushes, neighing the whole time. “We were such dorks.”

  “And when we stuck a gallon of ice cream on the windowsill and it melted down the side of the house? Why did we do that, anyway?”

  “Weren’t we hiding it from your brother?”

  “That’s right.” Sheri laughed. “He never found it, but the wasps did. My mom had to push it off the ledge with a broom handle. Remember how mad she was?”

  “How are your folks?”

  “Oh, they’re hanging in there. They’ve still got their place out on the lake, but I don’t know how much longer they can hold on to it. Dad sold his practice a couple years back. His arthritis got so bad he couldn’t do adjustments anymore. Now he just mopes around and obsesses about his cable bill. Having him home has made Mom a little nuts. She stays up till all hours, falls asleep at the kitchen table. The other day she left the burner on and forgot about it. If I hadn’t stopped by, the whole house might have gone up.”

  I didn’t want to hear this. It only made me long even more for my own mother. She would have been active and engaged. She would have made me laugh even while we were sitting in some specialist’s office, talking about a hip replacement.

  “I love Grammy,” Logan announced.

  “Sure you do. I love her, too.” She ruffled his hair, then smiled at me. “So, have you seen Joe since you’ve been back?”

  “He stopped by the house last night.”

  “He’s a teacher now, you know. I’m really hoping the boys get him when they’re in high school. He’s supposed to be phenomenal.”

  I could just picture it: Joe earnest and enthusiastic, getting kids to listen, opening their minds.

  Sheri toyed with her stirrer. “Sparks still there?”

  The moment Joe had appeared in the kitchen, everything had stopped for me. There’d been a buzzing in my ears, and I’d been suddenly and profoundly aware of the pounding of my heart. Different from when I’d first seen him, in that busy bar where my automatic reaction had been to think about my hair and whether I’d remembered to put on earrings. But last night, in my sister’s home where everything was stripped by grief, there had been no artifice. It had felt intimate and personal, but I had no way of knowing if he’d felt the same way. “It’s been a long time. We’ve both moved on.”

  She frowned. “Joe tell you that?”

  “I guess I just assumed it.”

  “You ask me, he’s still got a thing for you. You guys never did resolve things. Maybe that’s fanning the flames. Mike and I have tried to set him up at least a million times.”

  This was embarrassing, and I didn’t like the surge of hope I felt, hearing that. I had friends in Baltimore waiting for me to return so we could play tennis or catch the latest movie. I had a pretty little condo surrounded by boutiques and cafés, where jazz music floated late into the night, and where I could walk along the waterfront to watch the sailboats glide past. I didn’t have anything in this little town, other than regret and loss.

  “I’m not saying he hasn’t gotten serious with anyone,” she said. “Trust me. Half the women in town would snap Joe up if he gave them the chance. There’s something to be said for a guy who’s smart and kind and gentle. The way he looks doesn’t hurt things, either.”

  I arched an eyebrow; she giggled.

  “Mommy?” Logan tilted his head to squint up at her. “You talking about Daddy?”

  “You bet!” she said brightly.

  I had once loved Joe, deeply and truly, in that all-absorbing, first-love way. But I was older now, and far wiser. There was no room in my life for adventures that would only lead me back to doors I’d slammed shut long ago.

  “What about you?” Sheri wanted to know. “What have you been up to?”

  “A lot of different things. I worked in a lab for a little while collecting samples, then answering phones at a nonprofit until they lost their funding. I had a couple of government jobs shuffling paper that made me really understand why people go postal.”

  “I thought you went off to college?” A tiny frown puckered between her eyes. She was waiting for me to explain the long silence, the lover who demanded I remain by his side night and day, the important job that took me to foreign countries, anything that might have prevented me from writing back, or calling once in a while. After all, we’d once been close friends. But there was no challenge in her expression, no hidden animosity. I relaxed. I guessed she’d moved on, too.

  Something had blown into my cup. I dipped in a fingertip and tried to capture it. A bit of leaf. Who knew what else was floating around in there? I set my cup aside. “No, now I’m a part owner of a demolition business.”

  “Is that a joke?”

  “No joke. Friends introduced me to this man, Halim Rajad. He was looking to start up his own company. I was looking to do something different.”

  “Oh. And you’re in love with him? This Halim?”

  “We’re just business partners.”

  She nodded, distracted. “Hey, tiger. Don’t wipe your mouth on your sleeve.” She plucked a paper napkin from the dispenser and handed it to her son. “Did you know we have a new water park, Dana? It’s pretty awesome. We love it, don’t we, Logan? On Fridays, they have line dancing at Lakeside. And Orenson’s now rents out paddle boats and Jet Skis.”

  “I want a Jet Ski.” Logan balled up his paper napkin between his palms.

  “We’ll see.” Sheri tapped the paper plate. “Eat up, honey.”

  “I’m done.” He’d taken two bites.

  “Okay. Why don’t you go see if you can find any shells?”

  “I guess.” He clambered down from his chair.

  We watched him wander a few yards away and crouch to study the sand.

  “He’s really cute,” I told Sheri. “How’s he doing?”

  “You heard, huh?” She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, Dana. We have good days, I guess. We’re still getting the hang of it.” She pulled his paper plate toward her. “Julie was trying to talk me into doing his dialysis at home. She thought it would be easier on him, but I don’t think I can handle it. I don’t have any medical training. What if something went wrong?” She raised worried blue eyes to mine.

  What did I know about dialysis and little boys, how much she could handle, whether doing it herself would help or worsen the situation? Uncomfortable, I said, “I’d bet you’d figure it out.”

  “I’d freak out about something, and then he’d freak, and it would be horrible. The poor kid—he picks up all his cues from me. I have to be relentlessly cheerful.” She bit hard into the burger. “It’d be easier if we knew why he got sick. It’s the not knowing that’s so painful.”

  “Julie was trying to figure it out.”

  “Yeah, she was.” We looked at each other for an uneasy moment.

  “Excuse me.” A woman paused by our table, her hands on the handles of a stroller. “Is that your little boy?”

  Logan stood by the lifeguard’s station, flinging shells at the ducks. The birds flapped their wings and lurched back and forth, honking.

  Sheri shot to her feet. “Logan? You stop that right now!” She jabbed a finger in the air. “That’s one!”

  Logan tossed a shell to the ground.

  Up went two furious fingers. “That’s two!”

  He stamped his foot and whirled around. Pushing his hands into his pockets, head hanging, he trudged toward us, the very picture of dejection. He was so small. The lake behind him seemed impossibly vast.

  “He’s been so angry.” The breeze swept a tendril of hair against Sheri’s mouth, and she tugged it free. “We have him in play therapy, but you can see how much good that’s doing.”

  “I’m sorry.” It was an inadequate thing to say, but Sheri had turned her attention to her son, who now stood before her, mouth turned down, his small shoulders sagging with defeat. She stooped to brush
the sand from his pants and backside.

  “That wasn’t nice, Logan. Why would you hurt those poor ducks?”

  “They were bothering me.”

  “Oh, honey. They were not.” Sheri hoisted him up onto her hip and pressed her cheek against his head. “I don’t know,” she said to me. “Maybe Julie was right.”

  She walked away, her child in her arms, before I could ask her which thing she thought Julie had been right about.

  TEN

  [PEYTON]

  THE DEEPEST APRTS OF THE OCEAN ARE THE TRENCHES that plunge for miles into the core of the earth. This is the hadal zone, named after the Greek word for hell.

  Here live mud eaters: mollusks, worms, starfish, sea anemones, and sea cucumbers. These creatures creep along the flat and featureless ocean floor, feeding steadily on the detritus no one else wants.

  Nothing changes in the hadal zone. There is no dawn or dusk, no seasons, weather, ice age. There’s no reason to evolve, because there’s nothing to adapt to. The creatures that live at the bottom of the world are exactly the same as they ever were. They’re all that remains of our past, and they’re our future, too. Long after we’re gone, they’ll still be there, and they won’t have any idea that we once were, too.

  Peyton sat in the front pew between her dad and Dana. Her grandma sat on the other side of her dad, gripping his hand and leaning against Aunt Karen. People packed the pews behind her, filled the vestibule, and overflowed onto the front lawn. From all the way inside where she sat, she could hear the far-off echo of the loudspeakers outside, repeating Father Tom’s words.

  Sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows and fell onto the gilded objects on the altar. It warmed Father Tom’s white hair, danced across the robed knees of the seated deacon. Light was all free and happy out in the air. Not like in the ocean. Sunlight could shine down only so far before the water particles scattered and dispersed it. The ocean kept a tight hold on its secrets.

  Two years ago, when her mom was first diagnosed, she and Peyton had had a long talk.

  Why did this happen to you?

  I don’t know.

  Does it hurt when they put the needles in?

  Sometimes.

  Why don’t they give you a graft instead?

  Because they’re prone to infection.

  An infection had crept in anyway.

  Music started and she stood. When it stopped, she sat. Someone sniffled and then hiccupped behind her. She clenched her fists. Why were they crying? She wanted to turn around and glare, tell them to go somewhere else. More music, swelling loudly to a chorus of amens, and it was finally over.

  Shuffling out of the pew and into the aisle, she walked beside her dad, feeling the pricking gazes of everyone upon her. She knew exactly what they were all thinking. I’m glad it’s her and not me. She stood on the sidewalk and watched the pallbearers load the casket into the hearse. Her dad helped her grandma into the front seat of the truck, and Peyton climbed in after. Dana took her own car, and Aunt Karen got into her rental with her two sons.

  The hearse rolled in front of them, leading them out of town to the cemetery. Peyton had never spent much time out here. It all looked strange to her, as if she’d landed in a foreign land. There was the blue water tower that loomed in the distance. There were the three silos, the railroad tracks. A flag flapped outside an electrical substation, its ends a little frayed. Someone should replace it.

  Over time, more questions came up, and her mom had always answered them.

  Are you going to die?

  People can live for decades on dialysis. I’m strong and healthy. There’s no reason to think I won’t be one of them.

  What if you aren’t?

  Oh, sweetheart. You’ll always have me right here, in your heart. I’ll never leave you.

  “You didn’t tell me Dana was back.” Her grandma clutched her old black pocketbook in her lap, twisting and twisting the metal toggle. She sounded alert.

  “She came for the funeral,” her dad said.

  That wasn’t the exact truth. It was more that Dana stayed for the funeral, but her dad was just simplifying things. Peyton prepared herself for the endless questions about whose funeral it was, but her grandma surprised her.

  “You better keep an eye on her,” her grandma said.

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “You mark my words. She’s trouble, that one.” She let go of her pocketbook and took Peyton’s hand in hers, her grasp surprisingly strong.

  Her mom had been strong, too. She loved to smile, and she sang in the shower, and planted hundreds and hundreds of flower bulbs. She never, ever let on that Peyton needed to stay vigilant. Peyton should have known better. The purple shadows under her mom’s eyes, the way she paused to catch her breath, the looseness of clothes that once fit, all should have told Peyton not to let down her guard. Peyton had gotten lazy. She’d let things sweep her up and propel her along. So she hadn’t even been there when her mom died. She’d been at school, doing stupid school things, and her dad had been at work. Which meant that, at the end, her mom had been alone.

  Do you believe in God?

  Yes. Having you made me believe.

  She hoped her mom had been right. She was terrified, though, that she’d been wrong.

  ELEVEN

  [DANA]

  MY MOM DIED WHEN I WAS THIRTEEN AND JULIE was nineteen. Mom had been on her way home from work, following the same route she took every night—the two-lane road that curved through the woods and around the dark lake and tiptoed into our sleeping town. Julie was the one to wake after midnight and realize the car wasn’t in the driveway. Julie was the one to phone the police, to answer the door when they showed up to tell her they’d found our mother’s car at the bottom of the slushy lake, our mother still trapped behind the steering wheel. Julie was the one to come to my bedroom in the icy predawn light and wrap her arms around me tightly to tell me our mother had drowned.

  I hadn’t believed her, at first. My mom would never have left without telling me goodbye.

  I don’t remember much about her funeral, just a few things: sitting in the pew beside Julie, breathing in the sickening green odor of lilies; looking down into the rectangular pit carved into the earth and realizing with absolute clarity that nothing was in my control. Years later, I sat in that same church, while roses stood at the altar, and the same minister talked about Julie. And then I stood by her open grave, with the marker of our mother’s grave beside it, and felt the true weight of being completely alone in this world.

  Julie had such promise. She was beautiful, funny, astonishingly kind. She could have married into wealth, sailed the ocean, flown the sky. I’d accused Frank of keeping her stuck here in this North Woods town, assuming no one could be satisfied staying in one spot their entire lives. But maybe I’d been wrong. The people Julie had spent her life with had overflowed the church, and now they stood in sober ceremony as her casket was lowered into the earth. They’d brought by food, sent flowers, dropped off cards and letters, phoned. Maybe, in the end, Julie had been happy. Maybe, even if it hadn’t contained me, this had been the life she’d wanted.

  I stood at the kitchen sink, washing dishes that could wait and taking my time about it, too. I was done making meaningless chitchat, agreeing that my sister had been a wonderful person who would be missed, answering the same questions over and over. Where had I been? How was I doing? Was I married? Children? Wasn’t it nice to spend some time with my family?

  At one point, Alice Gerkey had rolled up in her wheelchair, still commanding although she’d shrunken to a gnome, and thrust out a bony hand. It’s good to see you, Dana, she whispered as I bent to kiss her cheek. You should come by the plant sometime, and see all the changes.

  “There you are.” Frank’s sister, Karen, reached around me to drop a handful of silverware into the soapy water. She resembled him, with her strawberry blonde hair and narrow features. On Frank, they were a handsome combination; on Karen, they looked a
little pinched and unforgiving. But the smile she gave me was generous. “Why don’t you let me take over so you can greet people?”

  “That’s all right.”

  Karen gave me a thoughtful look. “Guess it’s hard being back after so long.”

  Outside the window, people congregated on the lawn. Peyton sat up at the top of the sloped backyard, a solitary figure. I’d been watching as I soaped plates, hoping someone would walk up the hill and join her, but so far, no one had. “I didn’t know Frank had a drinking problem.”

  Karen turned with a sharp intake of breath. “Oh no. Don’t tell me he’s started up again.”

  So Irene hadn’t been exaggerating. There really was something to be concerned about. “He’s going through a six-pack a night. What do you think? Is this a big deal?”

  “I’m not sure. I wasn’t around when it was happening. I only know what Julie told me. She said he got remote. She’d talk to him and he wouldn’t answer. She said it was like living alone, sometimes. The worst part was how he neglected Peyton.”

  I frowned at her. “What do you mean, neglect?”

  Karen flushed, got busy with a dishtowel. “Nothing terrible. Frank’s a wonderful guy. You know that, Dana. It’s just that he didn’t interact with her. After a while, she stopped going to him, greeting him when he came home from work, that sort of thing. Small stuff.”

  That didn’t sound small to me. “How long did this go on?”

  A pause before she replied, letting me know her reluctance. “Peyton was in kindergarten when he started treatment.”

  So those early formative years where I’d imagined Peyton growing up surrounded by happiness and love had instead been filled with fear and insecurity. Where had I been then? Baltimore, wandering around Fell’s Point or hitting the newest bar, completely oblivious. No wonder Peyton was that quiet, serious girl Irene Stahlberg worried about. Peyton seemed so alone. In the three days that I’d been there, not a single teenager had stopped by to visit her, and there she sat, on that hilltop, surrounded by nothing but grass. Julie had been so weak. She should have stood up for Peyton. “Five years.” My voice trembled with rage. “Six?”