Water's Weight

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. In silence, for the most part. Me, with both hands on the wheel. Her, in the passenger seat with her nose buried in a book, tightly bundled up in scarf and toque and feather-filled jacket.

I had asked her that morning what the book was about; she’d shrugged and said she hadn’t read far enough yet. I’d asked her again when the sun had risen above the coastline and set the lake water next to the road ablaze. She hadn’t answered.

Only when our surroundings had melted from sunrise to snow did she tell me that the story was of a mouse, and an abbey with tall, red brick walls. I didn’t tell her I’d read it too, many years ago. When things were simpler.

There were two cups in the centre console. The drinks inside were long cold, from a five AM swing through a drive-thru. Driver gets the top cupholder, passenger gets the bottom. That way I didn’t get a mouthful of hot chocolate when I was expecting the mercy of caffeine.

The tires of our Toyota left the road and met with the dirt of the mountain. The cups in their holders jolted and jiggled. Marley put the book down to rest a hand on them. She craned to look out of the window. “Are we almost there?”

“That’s what the dirt means, lil’ bee.” I avoid a deep looking hole in the dirt with a jerk of the wheel and reach out to ruffle the pompom on her toque. “We’re almost there.”

Seeing her smile in my peripheral made the stress of the last forty-eight hours feel worth it in a single moment.

This was something of our last attempt to feel like home.

My back was getting sore from sitting. Our last stop had been four hours back. I made a half-hearted attempt at a sitting stretch and gave up. We’d been on the road since long before dawn, had watched the sun rise and begin to sink again. At this rate we’d get there just before the light left.

I turned on the radio as we began to trundle down the driveway. Christmas music, a cascade of strings and voices of velvet promising cheer and happy holidays filled the car. When Marley leaned forward and turned it down, I didn’t say anything.

“What are you going to do first when we get there?” Forced cheer. Hadn’t she just turned that down? I kept my eyes on the road and turned the high beams on. All they did was make the thick snowflakes brighter.

“Unpack.”

“That’s my job. You can do whatever you want, put in one of Pop’s VCRs or take a bubble bath and read? It might be relaxing.”

“I’ve been reading all day, Mom..”

“Right.” Whoops. “I’ll make nachos or something.”

She grunted.

Slowly, the A-frame came into view. I didn’t tell her, but my heart made and re-broke itself at the sight of it. Thatched roof, sturdy wood and Christmas lights along its edges, left on by the caretaker and lighting the deck.

Marley pulled her duffel out of the back seat and left the moment the car stilled. I watched her run inside and put myself through the paces of checking the car for scratches. The kind of person who absolutely has to get the groceries inside in one trip, I bent my back and fingers in every direction hanging grocery bags and my own duffel over my body.

By the time I’d tracked snow and mud inside and set the bags on the floor, I was ready for bed. To her credit, Marley was bright-eyed and none the worse for wear. She’d even put together a small, spitting fire in the hearth of the living room. I gave her a side-hug. “How are you doing? Did you check the place out?”

“Good. Yup. Fire’s gonna die though.”

“I’ll fix it. You did a good job setting it up. Any chance you can put some stuff in the fridge for me while I work on it?”

She fidgeted. I felt a piece of her withdraw and was quick to reassure her that it was a question, and not a demand. She bit her lower lip. It took strength for me not to look away, the expression was so familiar, achingly dear. Finally, she nodded. “I can do some.”

“Thanks. Feel free to go to upstairs if you get tired.” A part of me wanted her to go. I didn’t think I could hold myself together for much longer.

“Kay.” She slipped out of my arm and lugged a pair of bags into the kitchen, and I stood for several moments until I heard jars clinking together and the fridge opening and shutting.

“Chips don’t go in the fridge,” I called warily. No answer.

I knelt before the fireplace and propped two pieces of wood up against each other, poking at the small coals Marley had started and feeding them with pieces of torn newspaper from a basket. Soon, the fire roared as though it always had been. I took time to gaze into the flames and lose myself, let some piece of me mute itself for a moment.

“Mom?” I looked over my shoulder with a jolt. Marley was standing in the doorframe, watching.

“Sorry, bee. I just needed a sec. Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Nachos it is.” I put another log into the fire and rose to join her.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled a loaded tray of nachos, cheese, olives, tomatoes, and ground beef from the oven and let Marley take the first bite. “Careful, hot.”

“I know, I know.” She pulled a face anyway and fanned her mouth, and I laughed. I didn’t tell her she looked just like him. Her face flushing, she feigned ‘fine’ and took another bite. “S’good,” she said through chews.

“Good.” I had to agree. It felt good to be making something instead of ordering in. Honestly, it was the first time I’d cooked in a while. I was mildly surprised she hadn’t said anything. Maybe I wasn’t the only one holding things back.

She hadn’t said much of anything at all. Not even to ask why. I took another mouthful of nachos and watched her eat. Guilt scraped at the insides of my stomach. I lowered a pinch of nachos back onto the tray. “I…”

“Yeah?” She swallowed and turned those big brown eyes onto me.

I sighed. “I’m glad we made it here in one day.”

“Dad’s not coming, is he?”

They’re always so observant. My stomach sank. Kids pick everything up, not only words eavesdropped through a wall that’s supposed to be soundproof, but body language as well. I’d hoped she’d been so engrossed in her book that she’d miss my fidgeting today. “How did you know?”

Maybe she’d been hoping it wasn’t true. Either way, the confirmation glassed her eyes over with tears and I rounded the counter to tuck dark curls behind her ears. “Honey, he wanted to, I promise. He tried so hard, I’m pretty sure it got him in trouble.”

“Is he coming home at all?” She wiped at her eyes with her sleeves. I hugged her to me and felt her hiccup back a sob. If I hadn’t cried all of my disappointment out the day prior, I might have joined her in the depths of despair. The drive to the cabin had helped to heal some of the disappointment, however, and I was looking forward to a girl’s weekend instead. “I don’t know.”

“He always says he’s gonna.”

“I know.”

If you don’t make a promise, you can’t get harassed for breaking one.

Paulie’s job in the military frequently takes him to far off places. For our own safety we never knew details of what he did during his day to day, but I was well assured that it was a good job and that he would much rather have been home with us. Something about keeping his parents happy keeps him there. I’ve never understood why. Sometimes I question why his parents seem to mean more than we do. Never out loud, of course.

Something of a last attempt to feel like home. Maybe Marley and I alone were the new home. I’d given myself the weekend to make a decision.

I loosened my arms around Marley and handed her a ragged tissue from my pocket. She blew into it. She didn’t pull away from me, which I took to be a good sign. I gestured back to the nachos. “Let’s finish these. It’ll still be a good weekend! You and I will make sure of it. We haven’t been able to spend much time together while you’ve been in school, it’ll be a good chance for us to make some memories, right?”

“Wanted Dad here too.”

“I did too. I’m disappointed that he’s not coming. I’m angry that he’s not coming.” She gave me a sharp look. I don’t share my feelings as freely at home. Being here feels less restrictive. More free. Maybe being away from the house helps with that.

“I’m angry too,” she said slowly. I nodded.

“We can be angry together. It’s not all Dad’s fault, he tried his best, but we’re allowed to be sad. I’m sure he’s sad too.”

“I just wanna be angry right now.” She said. Her voice was muffled against my sweater.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. We’re angry. Let’s angry-eat these nachos up and then have pajama time, what do you think? We can put in a movie and snuggle up. I can light the fire in the big bedroom and you can stay with me if you don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“Okay.”

I love my daughter. I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Thanks for sharing with me.”

“Okay.” She took a swig of soda and burped so loudly I couldn’t believe such a volatile noise could come from such a little face.

The nachos were finished pretty quickly after that. I left the tray and its crusted cheese to soak with some soap and water and followed Marley upstairs. True to my word we put on pajamas, brushed our teeth, and snuggled up under thick downy blankets to watch Disney’s animated Snow White. I ran a comb through Marley’s hair while she pointed out Snow White’s beauty, how she wished she could sing like her, and how scary the witch was with her poisoned apple.

I enjoyed the warmth of her against me, a comfort and a reminder of the life we were living. I wanted more moments like this with her before she didn’t want to be close anymore. I knew what that was like. Everyone goes through the stage of not wanting to be around their mother, only to grow close to them again later in life. You can’t really help it. It’s a part of growing, you need to separate yourself from the flock to see how you get by, see if you survive.

We didn’t talk about Paulie. Perhaps we each thought of him, but we didn’t say it.

Marley fell asleep in my arms before the end of the movie. She didn’t get to see Snow White fall asleep, nor rise. I felt her eyelashes against my cheek flutter shut and heard her breathing grow steady and long. I cuddled her a little tighter for just a moment, and pressed a kiss into her hair. I left the movie running and reached out with one hand to dim the bedside lamp to the minimum, in case either of us needed to get up during the night. It’d keep us from stubbing our toes. The credits began to roll, and my eyelids melted shut, as I was pulled into dreamless sleep with the warmth of Marley and a full belly to comfort me.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t here. If anything it was a good thing. At least, that’s what I told myself.

It had to have been past late when I heard the sound. As early as early could be. I’d been asleep a while, long enough for the VCR to finish rewinding itself.

I blinked blearily aside to where Marley lay sleeping. She’d extricated herself from my arms, perhaps after overheating, and lay curled up on the mattress beside me. I could see her eyes still shut in he dimness. She was sound asleep.

The sound repeated itself. I stiffened. I hadn’t imagined it. It was the sound of a key in a lock, jiggling as though stuck. I snuck another look at Marley and swiftly slipped out from under the covers.

Tense and holding my breath in the silence, I moved into the dark hallway and pulled the bedroom door closed behind me. Weapon. I needed a weapon. I searched my brain for any item worth the label. There were knives in the kitchen, but they were too close to the front door. My heart rate spiked. Was it even the front door I’d heard unlock? Was the intruder further in the house? What else had a lock?

A water bottle. I knew I’d left a full one at the top of the stairs, I’d complained to Marley about leaving it there. Forty ounces. That would be enough to swing at close range. I bent as I neared the top of the stairs and reached slowly and blindly outward with both arms until my fingers found the handle. I set a firm grip onto it and began my ascent.

Someone was definitely in the cabin. I heard a fumbling, a scraping sound. I grit my teeth together. If they’d been smarter they would have noticed the car in the driveway and backed off. My thoughts darkened. Maybe they had been waiting for people to be in the cabin.

Blood began to boil in my ears as I reached the bottom step and froze. The intruder was feeling against the wall, looking for a light switch. I knew it was against the opposite wall. They’d need time to figure it out.

Squinting to see better amidst the dark, I spotted a large figure outlined by the moonlight. It was stepping across the room. It would pass the staircase. Though it seemed there was an attempt at keeping quiet, the boots of the intruder still struck the hard wood, telling of a great weight. I’d need to aim high with the water bottle, either for the head, or for the knees. The outline of the head was easier to make out. My heart was racing, pounding against my ribs as though trying to escape.

The time was now. I needed to make my move before they reached the lights.

Bracing myself, I launched myself into the air and growled just loud enough to convey my menace, lifting the water bottle with both hands and bringing it down hard against the other’s skull. Only when I heard the clank of the connection did I call out. “Marley! Wake up, call 911!”

The reaction was instantaneous. The intruder stumbled and cried out in pain, and as I brought my weight down upon them I willed myself heavier and thrashed against them, bringing them to the ground.

“Wait!” The intruder gasped. I raised the water bottle again and brought it down with a force. Of course, if Paulie had been here, we could have done this together. I couldn’t help but blame him for this somehow. Of all of the nights. During a time when we were supposed to be away as a family, for just one weekend out of the year, one especially special to Marley and I, he wasn’t here to protect us. I shouted, more sound than words, and hit them again. “Marley!” I called.

I heard the bedroom door thud open and Marley’s sleepy footsteps. “Mom?” She called. She was scared. “Mommy, where are you?” The intruder was wiggling under me, and I struggled to pull myself free from the arms that flailed and fought to wrap around me.

“Downstairs, get my phone! Call the police!”

“Wait-” Clang. The water bottle hit home again. This time I felt the figure go limp under me. I seized the opportunity to dive upwards for the light switch and turned, as the lights flickered on, to take a look at the thief who’d thought to ruin our weekend.

He had a hat on. And a thick overcoat. And gloves. And boots. And a red scarf around his shoulders, partially concealing a dark beard beneath.

A red scarf I’d given him on our first Christmas together. “Paulie?!”

“Daddy!” I looked up at the sound of Marley’s delight. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs and flung herself onto Paulie, shaking with sobs. I was so confused I could barely piece together what was happening. In all of the years we’d been married, he had never so much as surprised with a letter, let alone a visit. Was it wrong that one of my first emotions was worry?

“Oh… my God… Paulie!” I fell to my knees and pulled him up, dragged him to the wall and pulled his hat off. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The red onset of three future bruises were staggered across his forehead. My stomach lurched with guilt. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were…” I reached out and traced my fingers over them, cradled his chin in both hands and kissed him.

He was smiling, but his eyes were glazed. “Hi, honeys. Merry Christmas.” He patted my shoulder, and pulled our crying Marley closer.

I shoved him. “Why didn’t you TELL me! I could have killed you!”

“You couldn’t kill me, queen bee.” He grinned harder.

One ice pack later, I hugged him while he watched a chattering Marley re-heat him nachos. We’d need to talk, but for now, we were home again.