settling down

Shivering and hungry, we watched our ride speed off into the night. Its taillights shrank, like two beady red eyes retreating down Ulster Avenue, glaring and blinking until the grouchy young contractor who’d picked us up on the freeway was out of sight. Lizzie's rage was explosive.

She hurled profanities into the dark, curses for going back on his word and leaving two defenceless young girls cradled in the manicured palm of suburbia. The rest of it was drowned out by the steady downpour drilling against our skin and the occasional crack of spindly pink lightning. It tore sudden, distant and bright scratches over Ulster’s wide, chalky houses. As it got closer, an especially bright scratch flashed over her aunt’s house and Lizzie’s rage fizzled. She squealed and sprinted towards the porch, canvas sneakers drenched a whole new shade of blue, shoplifted jacket held useless over her head.

I waited a moment, despite the lukewarm rainwater pooling in my shoes. My cardigan, also swiped from the least populated shelf of a Salvation Army, was so soaked that the wool weighed me down. Regardless, I insisted on peering up and down the street for any sign of life. If we could only hitch another ride, find a bus stop, a trucker or pair of vacation-bound frat boys for Lizzie to twirl her hair at and get us out of town. More lightning, further away this time, though Lizzie squealed again as if it had hit me. I sighed and trudged along after her, each step squelching, my pouting spotlit under the bulbous full moon.

Lizzie’s cousin Steven opened the door. He stared past us, his scleras tinted cool blue by the night. The O’Donnell’s hallway had a honeyed glow, radiating behind him with the warmth of a well-tended fireplace.

“Are you gonna let us in, asshole?”

“Well, that’s no way to talk to family.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “‘Specially family you haven’t seen since Christmas.”

“Come on, it’s freezing,” Lizzie whined.

“Are you cold?” He nodded at me and I froze. The last time I saw Steven, we were fourteen and sixteen. He was chubbier, I had more acne. I plucked the elastics on my braces like banjo strings and he laughed with a bewildered grimace. We stood an awkward two metres apart in the kitchen, in line for the microwave and staunchly avoiding eye contact. It was raining then, too.

“Faith,” Lizzie hissed. Steven smirked.

Though he loomed over us, he was soft all over; hair mussed and falling in feathered layers, sweater drooping and sweatpants bunching where they were swallowed by his socks. A vision of comfort, right down to the yawn that revealed his glistening red mouth and jagged canines. When it became clear I wasn’t joining in on their sparring match, he studied us with a narrow-eyed stare, then called over his shoulder.

“Ma, we got strays!” He stalked off, scratching his stomach high enough that I caught a glimpse of the coarse trail of hair snaking towards his navel.

Before she could cross the threshold, I grabbed Lizzie. My grip shocked both of us but by the time I was squeezing her forearm, I just had to say it.

“We can’t stay long.”

“Where the hell are we gonna go without a car?”

Obviously, I had no idea. She tugged her arm back and laughed at me. “We’re at least staying for dinner.”

The O’Donnells eat all their meals at the table, wide mahogany with a lace-trimmed tablecloth and a candelabra at its centre. Tonight was no exception; after Aunt Beth weighted us with towels and blankets, we filed downstairs and joined hands in prayer. While she and Lizzie thanked God with bowed heads, Steven clenched his hand around mine and we made static, bristling eye contact. By now, I’d been convinced into a set of Lizzie’s soft old pyjamas but as dense, tight curls dripped rain into the scoops of my shoulders, I couldn’t stop shivering.

“So,” Aunt Beth began, gesturing between me and Lizzie with her fork. “Does this here mean you girls are done playing hooky?”

“We’re grown ups, Ma.” Lizzie always called Aunt Beth that. I didn’t have to tell her anymore how ridiculous it was. That it made obvious how Lizzie adored all this domestic bliss. Warm dinners at the table, bedtimes and curfews. Lizzie didn’t mind any of it. All she minded was being bored. “What could we even be playing hooky for?”

“Real life,” Aunt Beth said, haughty and pushing peas around her plate. “You know, there’s a couple spots opened up on Mrs Keller’s ranch. They’re looking for stable hands.”

I didn’t know the first thing about horses. Neither did Lizzie, far as I knew. Her eyes lit up anyway.

“Really?”

“Offering room and board, too. Good people, the Kellers.”

There was an awkward silence, punctuated by scraping forks and pattering rain, as Lizzie tried to catch my eye. “Horses are fun.”

“Sure.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but come on. “If you know how to take care of ‘em.”

It got even quieter then, and we chewed through fragrant, roasted carrots and creamy mashed potatoes without a word. There was a gravy boat but that quickly became Steven’s territory. He tore his side of beef into chunks and dipped them so thoroughly the table had gravy splatters. Apparently, he liked his steak rare, blushing pink and oozing onto the plate. He ate with his hands, chewed like it hurt, hunched over and flinching in his spot by the window.

“And what about you?” Beth’s voice startled me out of my staring. Steven noticed. “Your mother doesn’t mind you running around like a lost kittycat?”

She still thought I was like Lizzie; spoiled and restless. I never had it in me to correct her outright because the truth would make her hum with quiet certainty, like she should’ve known better than to assume people like me could have proper families. To people like Aunt Beth, things are only worth having when everyone else has or wants something like it. The less she knew about what I had, the better.

“Uh…” Instead of figuring out a lie, I crept back from the table, glancing around for help. Lizzie just rolled her eyes, smiling fondly and wringing her hair into a glass. She pushed back her bangs, still stringy and dripping. Temporary pink dye bled all over her shoulders and the tip of her nose was red but if anything, she revelled in it. She sniffed, scrunched more hair into her fists and squeezed the colour out harder.

Shutting myself in the bathroom, I waited for the slap of Aunt Beth’s houseshoes on the kitchen linoleum, then padded back to the dining room.

Lizzie watched me, hawkish. “Why’d you run off?”

I shrugged. “Tired, I guess.”

“Sorta sounds like.” She picked up her glass, diluted by hot pink rainwater, and swilled it around. “You could use a break.”

“Don’t–”

“Why not?” She stared, Steven stared. Aunt Beth brought in a freshly-iced chocolate cake, grunting as she put the plate down. Even she wouldn’t quit glancing at me, expectations weighing heavy in her gaze. My stomach purred but I refused a slice as she cut it into thick wedges. She left again, still glancing. Shaking her head a little now, too. Lizzie and Steven kept on staring.

“You know, working on a ranch would mean early mornings,” I tried.

Lizzie raised her eyebrows, then spoke through a mouthful of cake. “That could be good for us!”

“You hate dirt.”

“Only the human kind,” she argued, sniffing some more.

Steven pushed out of his seat and sped away from it, brow furrowed like it was calling him names. Now it was him who got the stares, and he glared back with a clenched jaw and measured but heavy breathing. When he spoke, it was clipped and nervous.

“I gotta, uh…I’ll be right back.”

Me and Lizzie shrugged at each other, traded nervous giggles. She wrung more water from her hair. I reached for some cake.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“I sure don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Faith–”

“Liz.”

“I know, I know.” But she didn’t, or she wouldn’t insist on keeping up with this outlaw fantasy of hers, just to come to a screeching halt on a whim. Thing is, I don’t think she knew it was a fantasy, and that made it all the more dangerous for me. She was running away and I was running towards. When you’re scared, or bored, you’ll settle for anything that keeps you busy. I wanted to do more with my life than just pass time.

Back in the bathroom, I leant over the sink and guzzled water like I was grazing from a vast lake. A terse thump on the door cut me off.

“Just a minute!” I called, but Lizzie’s sniffing out in the hall kept up. It was a snarling, wet sound now. Gross. She knocked again, hard enough this time to make the door rattle in its frame. “Jesus, Lizzie, one second.”

Over and over, I made to leave, wiping water from my chin. Instead, I paced back and forth, wracking my brain for routes out of town. Another bang on the door, that made me swear under my breath and swing it open. No one was there except the house’s drowsy heat, heady enough to feel like someone’s hot breath in my face. It wouldn’t loosen, and reminded me of a time I’d tried to fish a fruit fly out of a honey jar. Those things can zip around real fast and all I could think, knuckle deep and sticky, was that if the sucker hadn’t flown so low, nobody would’ve been able to shut the lid on it. Toasty yellow light still seeped in from the hallway, hazy in my periphery. I needed more water.

There was no more banging but Lizzie was tapping now, the sound taunting, nagging. I refused to open up until I was completely bloated, wrenching the door with enough force that warm air whistled in my face. She was nowhere to be found.

“The hell, Liz?” I rolled my eyes and turned towards the stairs. Slanting moonlight illuminated the landing and I thought I’d heard his voice in the kitchen but there, rocking on his heels, was Steven.

“You took a while.” His voice came out garbled, throaty. Snarling.

“I was thirsty.”

“Yeah?” His body stilled, his head cocked. Neither of us moved for an agonising while. Half of him was swathed in cool, bright moonlight, speckled with the shadows of raindrops on the windowpane. “You gonna come up here?”

I shook my head.

“I thought you were tired.”

“Not so much anymore. Refreshed, and all.”

He nodded, crouching. With one hand braced on the top step, he licked his lips. “That’s good.”

Without my permission, my own hand had found its way onto the bannister. Maybe I still needed the steadying, but I drew away as subtly as I could manage. At this distance it was merely absurd suggestion, but I was sure the hand poised on the steps looked fuzzy and clawed. I nodded towards the dining room without looking away.

“Lizzie still in there?”

“Reckon so,” he purred. “You can go back if you want.”

There was no way to do that without taking my eyes off him which, try as I might, I couldn’t. He grinned slowly, showing off each of his sharpened, lengthening fangs. The spittle drooling off them glittered like stalactites in a cave. Aunt Beth’s chocolate cake clung to the back of my throat and Lizzie’s vanilla scented body lotion radiated from my skin. Steven ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Are you coming up, or am I coming down?”

I wondered: if I took off quick enough, could I shut myself back in the bathroom? But I didn’t move, couldn’t. Aunt Beth thumped around in the kitchen and Lizzie’s chair scraped back in the dining room.

“We should be quick, huh?”

Before he pounced, he prowled, steps beastly and swaggering. I had time to, but I had no idea which direction to run, so right here had to be good enough. As he pounced, lips already deep pink and swollen, I was stuck.