Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
One
Once upon a time,
Jane
looks at her brother and knows that he hates her. It is not something
she has to guess at; rather, she feels it imprinted deeply against her
bones and knows it is mingled in with the blood they share, as though it
has claimed its very own sequence of DNA.
She understands his hatred for her. She feels it too, if not more strongly.
Between
them, the music that plays from the car's speakers keeps pausing as her
phone struggles to stay connected to Bluetooth. They are deep into the
North Georgia mountains now, surrounded by white oaks and tall, looming
pines that hold the ribbon-thin road in place. All around them the
Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest stretches outward, beautiful and
threatening in its enormity.
Countless hikers will have taken off
on the Appalachian Trail today, hoping to either find or lose
themselves amidst the isolation. It turns Jane's gut cold, the thought
of disappearing into the mountains for weeks or months on end, watching
the trees all blur together into one sentient cage-of sleeping in the
woods all alone at night, telling yourself that the footsteps crunching
through the leaves outside your tent only belong to a harmless animal.
Though at this point, she might actually prefer that to this car ride.
When
the music gives up completely, discomfort spills into the empty
silence. The car's navigation system shows their arrival time at their
family's cabin rental on Blood Mountain as thirty-six minutes away.
We'll
never make it, she thinks, then throws another glance toward the
passenger seat. Thomas looks even more inclined to fling himself out of
the moving car, if that's possible.
The wind picks up through the
trees, lending a momentary white noise as leaves scatter down across
the windshield in melodic succession. It's been miles since they've seen
another car on the road-perhaps for the better, as any passing driver
might catch a glimpse of Thomas and assume he's being held in a hostage
situation.
Jane reaches toward the radio, ready to settle on a
station playing good old-fashioned static, when she recalls her mother's
parting words on the phone that morning: He's your only brother, Jane.
Just try talking to him.
She clears her throat a few times, taps
her thumbs on the steering wheel as though that might tick down the
seconds faster. "There's probably not going to be any service at this
place," she says.
For a moment, she thinks he didn't hear her or
is perhaps fully ignoring her-this would be normal behavior, after all.
But then there is the smallest nod in her periphery. She tightens her
grip on the wheel as the silence drags out again and forces her
attention out toward the passing forest.
The rolling hills of
treetops below are a sea of burnt oranges and jeweled reds from this
height, waiting to catch the sun as it falls. This used to be her
favorite time of year, and yet now she can't recall having even noticed
the leaves change.
"You know why they decided to not have
Thanksgiving at home, right?" says Thomas, thoroughly startling her;
he's barely said anything in the past hour except for What's with the
hack job? in regards to the new haircut she gave herself a few days
before.
Jane tucks a strand of short, choppy hair behind her ear,
not yet used to it barely skimming her shoulders. "I didn't think there
was any big reason," she says, shrugging. "Mom just said she and Dad
wanted to do something different this year."
"Ha. I'm sure they do."
The
slight sneer that reaches his mouth looks unnatural to her, as if at
any moment her brother will take off the icy mask and reveal a total
stranger has been beneath this whole time.
She eases the car
around another steep turn, noting the way Thomas braces himself in the
passenger seat. "Well, why are they doing this trip, then?" she asks,
hoping she sounds calmer than she feels as the wind surges through the
trees.
Thomas pushes a hand through his dark hair, messing it up
with his fingers. It's a nervous tic of his, one he has had since high
school, though Jane doesn't think he notices.
"The nice mountain
getaway, the pre-planned family activities-it's all to soften the blow
for when they tell us they're getting a divorce," he informs, far too
casually. "It's about time, honestly."
Jane's foot briefly slips
from the gas pedal. The red leaves spiraling down around the car
suddenly turn her head dizzy as she waits for her brother to admit that
he's only bored and joking.
"Oh come on, Janey," Thomas says, and
she tenses at the use of his old nickname for her. He does as well,
seeming to have momentarily forgotten where they stand with each other.
He clears his throat. "We're both in college now," he says. "There's no reason for them to keep up the charade anymore."
To
think of their parents' marriage as nothing more than a charade makes
her feel as empty as she does naive. Of course she has known her mother
and father's love for each other isn't perfect, but whose is? Every
couple has disagreements. No one smiles all the time.
Especially in the Wilson family.
"But
I don't understand. Why now?" she asks, racking her brain for any
obvious signs of discontent between her parents recently; of course she
knows they're unhappy with her, but that doesn't mean they have to feel
the same way about each other.
"It's not such a bad thing," her
brother continues, leaning his face against the window to stare out at
the passing blur of trees. "Worse things can happen," he adds quietly.
These
words, Jane knows, are aimed only at her. Her knuckles turn white as
she grips the wheel harder, taking another tight turn in the road.
"Does Cassie know?"
"Who
do you think first guessed it?" replies Thomas, readjusting in his seat
again. "Mom told her 'it would be best if Wyatt sat this one out' or
some cryptic shit like that. I wouldn't want my kid's boyfriend in the
audience for my breakup either."
Jane's eyes begin to blur, but
she quickly forces the tears away. She will not cry in front of her
brother, not now while they're stuck in a car with nowhere to go but
down.
The space fills up with silence again, but Jane's mind is
too preoccupied to be bothered by it. Instead, she forces her eyes to
stay trained on the winding road ahead. The hardest part of this trip
was meant to be coexisting with Thomas, or enduring the occasional slip
in their father's Mr. Optimist mask to reveal nothing but simmering
disappointment hidden underneath.
But a divorce?
It is a
dull ache sinking roots inside her, ready to grow and intertwine with
the rest of her flowering pain that the past few months have planted.
But as Thomas so rightly reminded her, worse things can happen.
She
exhales shakily, trying to ignore how high up the mountain they are
now, how close the looping road is to the earth's edge. "I wonder if
they'll wait till after they cut the turkey," she says, attempting
Thomas's light, unbothered tone.
"I'm thinking during the toast,"
he replies. Beneath his words, there's a hint of a smile as he mimics
their father's heavy South Georgia accent. "I'm thankful for my family,
but I'm also thankful that I can break it apart. Cheers, y'all."
A
bubble of sad laughter erupts from Jane, and Thomas joins in,
momentarily brightening the frozen space between them. She can't
remember when they last laughed about anything together; there is only a
sharp before and after in her mind, where their relationship was and
then wasn't.
Thomas quiets quickly, schooling his face back into
the cool indifference that shatters her. The words are there on the tip
of her tongue.
Don't say it, she pleads, straightening her posture. Don't say it, Jane.
But
the idea of their parents' divorce and the sound of his laugh has
stripped something from her, leaving her carefully placed armor for this
trip askew. The drop-off in the trees to their left is too prominent,
too eager, and that hungry dip in gravity claws away at her exposed
flesh.
Nowhere to go but down.
"Are you ever going to forgive me?" she whispers.
In
the passenger seat, Thomas's slouched-over form goes stiff. His brown
eyes are firmly fixated on the cast and sling on his right arm, and she
can barely watch as his jaw tightens around what he really wants to say.
"Leave it alone, Jane," he tells her, like stones being cast.
By
now, she knows how this pitiful moment goes, how she will offer another
useless apology-words that will fix nothing but poke and prod at wounds
that have barely begun to scab-before Thomas ensures they go without
seeing each other until the next familial obligation.
Will we even see each other at all if Mom and Dad divorce? Is this it, then?
He opens his mouth to say something. Then his eyes go wide as she drives around another bend in the mountain.
"Jane!"
She's
barely able to stop the car before it collides with the carcass. The
screech of the tires against the road ricochets through her body, and
she anticipates the breathless feeling of falling, of sailing off the
road down and down through the endless red trees until it all goes black
again, their joint screams echoing through the mountain valley.
Tremors
tear through her limbs as they remain perfectly grounded with the
glittering fall trees swaying gently to their sides. "I'm sorry," she
gasps, swallowing down bile. Her voice is a trembling wire as she faces
Thomas. "It just came out of nowhere. Are you okay?"
Her brother
barely nods. There is a bright terror in his eyes that she is certain
matches her own, and he clutches his right arm tightly to his chest,
squeezing it every few seconds as if to make sure it is still attached
to him.
"Pull off here," he mutters.
She eases the car
around the roadkill and into a patch of dirt alongside the road. Thomas
hops out before the car has even stopped moving, and he leans against
the rocky mountainside with his eyes squeezed shut.
She presses her forehead against the steering wheel. "Shit."
Talking was a bad idea.
After
a few more deep breaths, she gets out of the car, not entirely certain
her legs will hold. "Oh God." Her hand flies up over her mouth, just as
Thomas comes to stand at her side.
The animal in the road used to
be a deer. Now it is a smear of blood and crushed bones with its chest
cavity split open down the center in a precise, clean cut.
Jane
shrinks against the car as Thomas shifts closer to the carnage. His eyes
trail the spill of guts onto the pavement followed by the wide radius
of sticky red that surrounds it.
"How could a car do this?" he
says. "The cut looks nearly perfect," he adds, beginning to circle it in
the same pattern as the large vultures flying overhead in the dark
orange sky.
"It looks like it just happened," she says,
swallowing hard. She twists to eye a puddle of fresh blood, where the
wispy clouds overhead reflect back in crimson hues.
Thomas stares
at the eviscerated animal, squinting closer at its chest before
assessing the entrails hanging out. "That's weird," he comments, looking
around at the nearby road.
Jane takes a small step closer. "What is?"
He
frowns down at the deer, and she swears she sees something like a
shiver pass through his shoulders. "I think its heart is gone," he says.
Jane
gags, forcing her eyes to the sky. The vultures have multiplied,
creating various circles over the treetops the farther the forest
stretches. She tries to ignore that the swirling patterns of black seem
to lead north up the mountain, exactly where she and her brother are
headed.
A shiver reaches her own shoulders. "Can we leave, please? It doesn't feel safe to be parked here like this."
Thomas
finally steps back from the deer and nods. They turn to leave, but Jane
freezes when an icy chill starts at the top of her neck and traces its
way down her spine. She turns and looks both ways down the empty curve
of the road, then straight across into the line of spindly trees where
the sun has begun its slow amber descent.
Thomas follows her gaze to the tree line across the road. "What is it?"
Her
throat is bone dry as she lifts a wobbly finger. There on the forest
floor, mixed in with the dirt and dead leaves, lies another deer.
"Jesus," he mutters, shaking his head.
The
baby is in a similar state as its mother, though its unblinking stare
seems to fall directly on Jane. "What could have done this?" she asks.
She is certain that when their father slices the Thanksgiving turkey
tomorrow, this is all she will see.
Thomas scans the tree line
once more, his eyes dragging along where the blood's red shine catches
against low-cutting beams of sunlight. "There are bears up here," he
says, shrugging. "These guys were probably just in the wrong place at
the wrong time."
I know the feeling, Jane thinks while forcing
her eyes away from the fawn's dead ones. Her entire body feels cold, and
not because of the fast-fading sun.
"Cassie's calling," says
Thomas. He swipes the screen of his phone and brings it to his ear.
"Hey, Cas. Yeah, we're not too far out." His eyes only briefly meet
Jane's before he slides into the passenger side of the car.
She can still feel the deer lying there as she gets into the driver's seat, but Thomas's agitated voice grabs her attention.
"She's right here, Cas. Yes, I'm telling the truth. For the love of-" He turns on the speakerphone. "Say hi to her, please."
Jane raises her eyebrows. "Hi, Cas."
"Fine,
fine," their older sister says. "I just wanted to make sure you two
were actually coming up together." Then Cassie sighs, long and dramatic
in a way that Jane has learned is like a gun going off at the start of a
long-distance race.
"Things have been an absolute nightmare so
far," she says. "We got a flat tire coming down the driveway to this
place because there's this ridiculous pothole. You'll have to be super
careful driving in, because we need to borrow your spare, Jane."
Thomas sighs deeply. "Jeez, that sounds rough, Cas-"
"So
after the car situation, Dad lit up a cigar as soon as we got inside,
and you know how Mom just despises the smell," Cassie continues. "So
naturally, Mom's now half a bottle deep on the chardonnay, talking about
how she would have been a flight attendant if she'd never had kids. I
swear she's told me this on three separate occasions now. Like, girl,
just go be a flight attendant-"
