Anna Schumacher - End Times

DAPHNES mother clutched her husbands hand, which was blue and waxy under the hospital lights. Tears ran down her cheeks, carving sooty mascara canals in skin as dingy and haggard as the cracked linoleum and seasick-green walls in the intensive care unit.

Are you proud of yourself? Her hair stood out in frizzy, white-streaked lightning rods from her head, as if electrified by the dark mania in her eyes. You killed him.

Daphne didnt answer. She just stared at the slack line on the life-support machine, listened to the empty space that had been filled with her stepfathers raspy, uneven breathing just moments before.

It was over. He was gone. There would be no more sleepless nights spent smothered by the close, dark air of her tiny room in their dingy Detroit apartment, bracing herself with every footstep behind the door. He would never come to her bed again, demanding something she wasnt willing to give. She was safeand no matter what her mother said, the world was a better place without guys like Jim in it.

A sob ripped through Myras body. She had been pretty once, back when Daphne was little and her real father was still alive. But years of bickering with Jim, working extra jobs to supplement his meager unemployment income, and glaring at Daphne had left deep lines in her face and turned her hair dull and gray. It was hard to see any remnants at all of the woman who had once seemed made of laughter and sunshine.

Mom . . . Daphne struggled to find the right words as Myra collapsed on Jims chest.

Come back! she wept into his neck. Her back quaked, shoulder blades cutting sharp wings in the cheap polyester of her dress.

Action had always been easier for Daphne than words. She took her mother by the arms and gently pulled her off the bed, hoping her touch would be comforting. But it had the opposite effect.

You beast! Myra screamed, clawing at her with ragged fingernails. Daphne felt her cheek tear open and the sting of suddenly exposed blood before she was able to grasp her mothers hands, holding them tightly in the air between them.

Youre a murderer! Myra shrieked. You know it and I know it and the Lord knows it.

The accusation seemed to tire her. She sank into an orange plastic chair and resumed her high-pitched wailing.

The words stung more than the cut on her cheek, but Daphne kept her face placid, a mask. Shed learned long ago it was easier that way. Mom, I dont know why you cant believe me. The cops, the lawyers . . . they all did. It was in self-defense.

Myra rocked back and forth, tears leaking from her eyes. Its a pack of lies.

Theyd been over the argument so many times it felt like a well-worn path through a thorny wood, a path that went in circles and never came out into the sun. But Daphne tried again anyway. Because some part of her didnt want to give up hope that her mom would someday believe her.

They found his fingerprints on the knife handle. He was going to use it on me.

A cloud passed over Myras face. She looked up at her daughter almost trustingly, as if Daphne were the parent and she the child. Her brittle lips opened in an empty O, and the frigid rage Daphne had carried in her chest since That Nightand practically since Jim had come into their livesthreatened to melt as her mothers eyes searched hers. Maybe this time the path would come out on the other side, into the sunlit warmth she remembered from her childhood.

But the O flattened out to a hard, mean line, and the bitter glare returned to Myras eyes.

Why should I trust you? she spat. Making up those lies about Jim, weaving your nasty little spells on him, trying to come between us. And now you have. Forever. Are you happy now?

Daphne looked at Jims cold face, his eyes staring out into a new world that only he could see. She looked at her mother, shivering like a Chihuahua in the sickly hospital lighting. Finally, her eyes met her own reflection in the glass partition between Jims room and the hallway. Long dark hair struggled to escape her ponytail, falling in messy strands around the sharp lines of her face: cheekbones two angry slashes, chin set in perpetual defiance. Fury simmered in her amber eyes. Shed hoped that maybe, just maybe, the rage would abate with Jims death, but it was stronger than ever. Even as a corpse, he had her mother on his side.

No, she said simply. Of course Im not happy.

You never were, her mother sighed. She took a deep, ragged breath. I wish youd just leave. When I look at you, all I see is a killer.

A glacier of hurt expanded in Daphnes chest. I am leaving, she said.

Good, Myra said absentmindedly. Her hand sought Jims again, fluttering over his blue-tinted fingernails.

Im going to stay at Uncle Floyds place in Wyoming for a while, Daphne said. To give you time to grieve.

Waityoure what? Myras head snapped up.

She knew better than to tell her mother the real reason: that lately shed felt a pull as strong as gravity toward her fathers side of the family in Carbon County. It woke her in the middle of the night with an ache in her stomach that felt stronger than longingalmost like homesickness. It was more than just the desire to escape: Something in her body was drawing her there and telling her she had to go as soon as possible.

She couldnt explain why. She hadnt been to Wyoming since she was a child, and even though she remembered liking her aunt Karens lasagna and her cousin Janies antics, the way the sky rolled endlessly over the mountains and how Uncle Floyd knew the name of every animal, plant, and tree, she hadnt thought about it much since. Not until that night with Jim and the knife, when it had lodged in her mind like a tumor. It had been growing ever since.

Her mother blew her nose loudly into a hospital tissue, then balled it up and threw it on the floor. So youre just abandoning me? Now, when Im all alone with nobody else in the whole wide world?

You just said you cant bear the sight of me. Daphne tried not to sound exasperated. That every time you look at me, all you see is a killer.

How dare you talk back to me, missy! Myra hissed. If you want to go, then go. But dont expect me to take you in when you come crawling back.

Okay. It wasnt the first threat her mother had made. Ever since Jim came along, Daphnes place in their home had felt precarious, with her mom constantly hinting at throwing her out, and complaining about the expense of having an extra mouth to feed. It had gnawed at Daphne until shed gotten her first job at the 7-Eleven when she was fourteen, lying about her age on the application to work extra hours. Shed started contributing to household expenses, but at the same time shed kept a secret bank account: her just-in-case money for the inevitable day when Myras threats became reality.

Now that day was here. It was time to go.

She knelt by her mothers chair and wrapped her arms around her tiny frame. Take care of yourself, Mom, she said. Youll be all right.

She wanted to say morethat in spite of everything she still loved her, that somewhere she believed Myra still loved her backbut the words wouldnt come. She hugged her mom tighter, trying to find the old scent of sunshine under the antiseptic smells of the hospitals industrial-grade cleaner and her moms cheap shampoo.

Myras arms stayed tight by her sides, her shoulders sharp as glass. Daphne could feel the rage trembling inside her mothers body, the hatred that Jim had wedged between them with the hungry way hed eyed her growing body and reached for her in the cramped kitchen. It had always been there, but it was stronger now.

She stood and turned toward the door.

Dont you dare come back! her mother shouted. I never want to see your face again!

The words echoed down the bustling hallway of the hospital where Myra had spent the last few weeks at Jims bedside, wondering how she could afford to keep him on life support. Daphne had stopped by nearly every day, bringing snacks from the 7-Eleven that her mother never touched, checking in with the doctors about Jims progress, but it was obvious to everyone but Myra that he would never be more than a vegetable. Finally the money ran out, and her mother decided to pull the plug.