And then, in reverse, I removed everything from the backpack again.
A small frying pan I set on the kitchen counter beside the microwave. Four miniature bottles of Crown Royal and two bottles of pills I hid underneath the sink where I planned to put the cigarettes after they dried. A hand-sized garden shovel and a plastic box of fishing gear, and snare wire and a military sewing repair kit and Zip-Lock bags and dingy coffee filters, I set it all neatly inside the kitchen cabinets. My bag of toiletries—which contained a tiny bottle of shampoo I remembered only after I’d already bathed—I put on the little medicine cabinet shelf behind the mirror in the bathroom. When I opened the closet in the bathroom, I found a bed sheet on the top shelf. I took it down with me, opening it wide and snapping it to get the dust out. Then I went into the bedroom and slipped it over the mattress; I made two pillows by rolling T-shirts together.
I sucked on a piece of caramel hard candy as I hummed a song. Hallelujah…Hallelujah… And I went back outside in my flowered dress and took the fishing gear in the plastic case with me where I sat down on a rock next to the pond’s bank and constructed a line. I left the line out, floating on a plastic soda bottle, and went back to the cabin.
Atticus still slept soundly on the sofa, but he had moved his position and lay on his side. I tended to his feet again, but still, Atticus did not stir.
Night fell and I went out to check the fishing line, but there was nothing on it. Not even the bait. So, I searched around the cabin, underneath rocks, and re-baited the hook with a cricket and then went back inside.
Atticus had moved again.
He slept on his other side, facing the back of the couch, his knees pressed together, his arms crossed against his chest. I wanted to sleep next to him, like I had done every night since we left the farmhouse, but I wouldn't risk waking him. So, after I locked the doors and windows and said good-night to the man on the front porch, I stood over Atticus, and I reached out and brushed my fingers through the top of his hair and whispered with tears in my throat, “Thank you…”
And then I crawled onto the mattress in the bedroom, alone, wishing I wasn’t alone, and I fell asleep minutes after my head hit the makeshift pillow.
35
THAIS
The sun was bright the next morning, reflecting off the surface of the pond. Every tree, every bush, every tuft of grass looked like it had been dipped in glitter before I crawled out of bed early to get a start on the day.
I set out while Atticus slept. I thought he might sleep all day, and if so it would do him good. But I would have something for him to eat when he woke.
I slipped past the house, past the graves, and went into the woods in search of food where I picked wild lettuce and dandelions, and found a sprawling wild blackberry bush. Just a few, I told myself as I plucked them from the brambles. Maybe five for each of us so we’ll have more for the next several days. Just a few. Oh, maybe eight for each of us. Yes, eight is a reasonable number considering the size of this bush. I made it an even ten.
I wasn’t out long when I heard a voice on the air, smiled in anticipation of seeing Atticus awake again, and I hurried back to the cabin.
ATTICUS
“THAIS!” I flew off the back porch, my gun in my hand. When I saw her walking up from the woods, I cut across the backyard in just a few short strides.
“Where did you go?” I shouted. “Why did you leave the cabin?” I reached out and grabbed her upper arm and shook her; a bowl of blackberries and dandelions and wild lettuce fell from her hands but I barely noticed.
“You never leave like that!” I told her, still shaking her. “Do you hear me? You never leave like that alone!”
Thais lowered her eyes, her mouth pinched with frustration.
“I’m sorry…I just wanted to find you breakfast.”
I released her arm. As the reality of what I’d done finally caught up to me, I just stood there looking down at her in her pretty dress as she bent to pick up the food and placed it back into the bowl.
“Thais, I’m sorry.” I stooped in front of her and helped. “Definitely didn’t mean to treat you like a child, but you scared the shit out of me.” I dropped a handful of blackberries into the bowl.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I didn’t go far. I kept the cabin in sight. I just wanted to find you something to eat.” Then she smiled brightly and added, “I found a blackberry bush.”
I looked at the bowl, and suddenly everything became obvious. She went out into the woods to find me food? Then I looked at her, and my heart sank; my breath came out in a long sigh.
I helped Thais to her feet.
“Promise me you won’t do that again.”
She nodded.
I noticed the dress she wore, how clean she looked since I’d seen her yesterday, the softness of her long hair as it lay against her back, the smooth, young skin of her face no longer streaked with dirt. Did she comb out her hair with her fingers? Where did she bathe? I looked beyond her at the water glistening off the surface of the pond, and though the thought of her going there alone also filled me with anxiety, I pushed it down.
“How are your feet?” she asked.
I looked down at my feet. The dirt was gone; the legs of my pants had been rolled up a few inches so they didn’t touch the open blisters and cuts and bleeding sores. But the wounds also had been cleaned and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I yelled at her for leaving the house alone while I left her alone, while I slept for no telling how fucking long. She had time to bathe, clean my feet, and go into the woods to find breakfast for me while I slept? I gritted my teeth.
“How long have I been asleep?”
The last thing I remembered was standing on the front porch looking at the skeleton slumped in the rocking chair. Fuck! I left the skeleton in the rocking chair!
“Atticus, you needed the sleep; don’t beat yourself up. I can take care of myself.”
Thais went toward the cabin, clutching the bowl underneath an arm. “You seem to forget,” she said as we walked together, “that I practically grew up living off what the land gave us. I’m not a child. I can go into the woods by myself.”
I stopped.
“You just told me you wouldn’t do it again,” I pointed out.
She nodded. “I know. And I won’t go out alone if it worries you that much, but you should know I’d be fine if I did.”
We walked again; the back porch slowly came into view.
“Even my father trusted me to go to the lake to fish, to go into the woods and forage”—she glanced over at me—“and I was careful. I listened to everything around me, watched for anything out of place.”
“It’s not you that I don’t trust, Thais.”
“That’s exactly what my father said.” She shook her head. “But eventually he agreed to let me go. Atticus, I can’t stay cooped up inside forever. But if you want me to stay, I will. I don’t want you to get upset like that.”