The rumbling is back again, it’s not just the wind that is keeping from me from hearing the words that are hanging in the air behind me. Tremulously the ground shakes. I put my hands on the ground and watch as my arms quake. I release my hold on the ground but my arms still shake. It is me. Through a combination of wind and terror the shudders speed through my body.
The rig creaks, I think it is the rig and I know what’s happening. I don’t turn around as Mom is lowered into the dark, damp, flower sprinkled dirt. Her own hole six feet down, where her body can relax while her soul roams free. Now I know what the lilies reminded me of. They fell as if pulled through the air, like the stars that streak as gravity pulls them lose. The falling stars that fell through the dawn the morning of her death had come back to claim her on the day of her soul’s release.
I cringe as the casket plops down into the hole. The men’s voices boom in the air, drowning the hushed words of my aunt and uncle. Sophia’s voice is lost too.
I wish they would say something to me. The crescents on my forehead feel strange, small dips on my temples. I count them again until I get to ten and then I breathe slowly and as evenly as I can. The cold air is sharp and frigid against my nose.
“Alyce,” it is Uncle Collin, “it’s time to go. Can you walk?” I look at him his blue eyes are liquid with concern but his voice is caring. I nod, of course I can walk. He holds out his hand and I grab it, using it as leverage to get up.
I stand up. My legs aren’t shaking under me like I thought they would be; I am stable for once today. I walk beside Uncle Collin all the way to the car. I don’t look back; I refuse to watch those men as they fill the grave where my mother will rot for the rest of my life.
Sophia shoots me a sideways look over the hood of the car before I step inside. It is cold again. The jacket lays crumpled where I threw it before the burial. I should pick it up, but before I can reach down Sophia snatches it.
I wait for her to say something but the presence of her parents make arguing impossible. Sophia holds the jacket in her lap, stroking it the way her mother stroked the blue Bible. I look up at the front seat. Aunt Jessa has returned the bible to its home in the glove box and is just staring out the window as we whisk past the trees that are tinged with red and golden yellows.
The car is silent until we get to the driveway. It snakes up the side of the hollow through trees that line the sides. The creek circles along the bottom of the hill.
“Alyce, will you get the mail, please?” Uncle Collin asks. “We’ll wait if you want.” I nod at him and reach for the door handle.
“You can go on up,” I tell him, slamming the door so the car shakes. I want to walk and feel the cool breeze on my cheeks. When I am at the mail box the car starts and bounces along the gravel drive up to the house.
I pull at the black mailbox, the door creaking as it folds down. I grab the handful of bills and papers and push the door back so that it slams shut. I rifle through the stack, there are bills and things addressed to Aunt Jessa and Uncle Collin but nothing for me.
I turn back and look up the driveway, the headlights have long disappeared. I start up the hill, the sliver pebbles of gravel slipping and sliding under my shoes. The mail flexes as I move my hand. It would be easier to walk up through the woods. I go to my left and jump off the small ledge into the leaves.
A leaf lodges in my shoe and I shake my foot to get it loose. I walk but still feel the crunch of breaking leaves in my ballet slipper of a shoe. I wiggle my toes as I walk trying to make sure I don’t get any between my toes. Half way up the hill I have to stop, leaning up against a tree and pull off my shoe. The bark slices into my palm as I press my weight on my hand. The bills and letters flutter from my hands and hit the ground cushioned by the leaf piles around me.
When I pull my shoe from my foot leave pieces rain down, there is also a blister the size of a quarter rubbed on my heel, so much for Sophia’s wonderfully comfortable shoes. I gently massage the bubble; it itches more than it hurts.
The house’s roof is visible from this point, but I hesitate to move closer. I pull tighter on the papers and wince as they cut into my hand. It doesn’t hurt, not the paper actually it’s the pressure as it pushes on my skin. I release my grip a little bit and switch hands. When I move the paper and shove it into my other hand, I can see a crescent, like the ones that are probably still visible on my forehead.
My shoe is only half way on when I restart my trek up the hill. I don’t know why I thought this was going to be easier. It seems like the woods are calling to me, like I am trying to find something hidden in the underbrush. But I haven’t seen anything since I started. The leaves fall onto me, it is hard to feel the wind blowing under all of the trees, the trunks shielding me from the breeze.
The leaves swirl around me. The hair that has fallen down has started to cover my face; my eyes are enveloped with red. I claw at my face trying to get my vision back. There is another blast of wind and my hair falls back out of my face.
I walk the rest of the way back to the house easily. No problems along the way. Beaver greets me at the door, meowing loudly for me to pet her. I set the mail on the counter in the kitchen then set off to find Sophia.
She finds me first.
I reach the top of the steps as soon as she walks out of the bathroom. She is wearing Toby’s jacket over a pair of sweatpants and a paint splattered t-shirt. Her red hair is damp and wavy. I move out of her way so she can get by but she doesn’t move.
“Why did you have this?” She asks gesturing toward the jacket. I shrug; I knew this was going to happen. She folds her hands across her chest and waits for me to answer her, for real this time.
“Toby was outside. I was cold, so he offered me his jacket, end of story,” I tell her. Hoping she doesn’t get too mad at my sarcasm. I can tell that she is angry but I don’t say anything else. I think my story was sufficient enough.
“You need to leave him alone,” she tells me. I can almost see steam coming out of her ears. I can’t believe she’s jealous of me. I’m two and a half years younger than her. I’m no threat to her and her boyfriend; I don’t see why she is being so paranoid.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I tell her rolling my eyes. She scowls at me and turns away.
“I hope you’re right.” She says quietly before walking down the hall to her room. I am quiet. But the uncertainty in her voice is too hard to ignore.
“Sophia, wait. What do you mean, you hope?” I ask, she can’t possibly think I’d do anything like that.
“I don’t know, Alyce,” she tells me, “I just have this feeling. Like something bad’s going to happen or something. It’s probably nothing, but I don’t want it to be about me and Toby.” I nod at her, trying to understand what she means. I let out my breath, glad that it’s probably nothing against me. She’s just worried.
She leaves me standing in the hallway alone, as she disappears into her bedroom. I walk into the bathroom and shut the door quietly. I slip my shoes off and curl my toes in the soft blue rug that is in the floor of the small room.
