Chapter I: April
12 April
Last year we were making plans for the Easter vacation. Lee thought we'd road trip it, drive along the Mississippi and camp. He got the well-worn map out of the car and spread it out on the table, showing the boys where we'd drive, where we'd camp. He told them we'd get to make campfires and roast marshmallows, and joked that we'd have to fish for our dinner each night. He didn't know then how useful those skills would have come in later.
It was a cold Spring, and when we woke up mid-April to a late snowfall Jack decided against his plan for a road trip. We'd do it during the summer, he said, when the days are hot and the nights are cold along the river. We ended up spending Easter picnicking out under the trees at the edge of the cornfield. We spent an entire, glorious day there, eating strawberries and apples, playing Rummy, the kids chasing each other around. I remember laying down on my back and looking up at the cloud-frisked sky through Spring branches, hearing Lee teaching Marc a card trick, the sound of Regan and Beau's laughter at some inside joke. What I wouldn't give to hear the sound of their laughter again.
Today I look across the field to our picnic spot and see a ravaged forest edge, the trees are leafless. Perhaps they too are hiding. Last night Lee told me, as he always does, that we'll be fine, that we'll all make it out alive. I'm beginning to wonder if he does this for his comfort, or for mine. Because the way I see it, in this new world every sunrise means the call to another battle, one we're never sure to win. And every sunset means dreams. The good, and the bad. Some days I wish I could conjure my own dreams instead of seeing the same nightmares, the reminders of days I wish never existed, even dreams of Before. Sometimes the most painful kind of dreams are the ones where you have everything you've ever wanted, only to wake up and remember that you never can.
I can't help myself from mourning some lost world. Those simple things from Before. Going to the grocery store and hearing announcements over the loudspeaker about deals on ice cream. A morning jog through the acres of forest lining the winding road beside our house in Autumn, my cheeks flushed and cold. Ice skating at my parents' house in Rochester the year before Regan was born, laughing and squealing together, blades etching our newlywed bliss on December ice. Arguing. The silent treatment seems like a cruel joke to me now, and it was my preferred method.
It's corny, it's sentimental, and I don't talk to anyone about it, but I feel it sometimes. Like in spite of everything pointing to the contrary, some terrible, blinding beauty is going to descend and, like the wrath of God, suck it all away, orphan us, deliver us, leaving us wondering how exactly we're going to start over yet again.
Evelyn closed her notebook, tucking the pen between its pages and setting it beside her on the porch step. The days were blissfully longer now, and after a harsh winter with sunsets beginning before five o'clock, she reveled in the timid warmness of Spring. Movement to the left of the field sparked a thrill of fear, and her eyes darted to its source. She swallowed her sigh of relief and smiled at the sight of her husband and daughter coming out of the woods. Lee tipped his head toward the house and Regan followed his gaze. She waved, her hand high over her head, the same expression of joy across her face that she'd worn even as a baby. Regan was always happy to spend the day with her father. In fact, Evelyn thought she preferred spending time with him.
While Marcus, at eleven, was content to help his mother with hanging the laundry and preparing meals in the relative safety of the farmhouse, Regan was experiencing a post-apocalyptic world and adolescence at the same time, and often exhibited a fearlessness that worried her parents. She continually surprised Evelyn with her ability to problem solve and figure out the world by herself, but hers was an independence that could become dangerous if left to spread too far.
Evelyn stood and tucked her notebook under her arm as they walked up the stairs, leaning into Lee and running her hand over his chest in greeting, then stretching to cup Regan's cheek and stroke a thumb across it.
How was it?
Regan smiled widely, exchanging a look with her father. We got TWO, she paused, then spelled out C-A-T-F-I-S-H !
Evelyn raised her eyebrows, and Lee nodded in confirmation. You are awesome! You know that?
Regan rolled her eyes and waved her mother's congratulatory signs away. They got caught in the trap. All we did was pick them out.
Lee ruffled his daughter's hair playfully, then looked to his wife.
Where is he?
Reading.
Regan rolled her eyes again. Lazy.
Hey, at least he does his math work.
Lee worked on deboning the first catfish in the kitchen while they took the second down to store in the basement freezer. Marcus put down his book as they walked in, waving hello to his sister.
What are you reading?
M-A-N-S-F-I-E-L-D P-A-R-K.
Regan looked at her mother as she returned from putting the fish away. She signed the name of Marcus' book with a questioning look.
It's by J-A-N-E A-U-S-T-E-N. Remember, you read one of her books last year. S-E-N-S-E -
Regan shook her head emphatically. No, you made me watch the movie. It was terrible. She raised her eyebrows at her brother. He shrugged.
Mom can't find the fourth H-A-R-R-Y P-O-T-T-E-R book.
Lee finished saying goodnight to his daughter and walked down the hall, leaning in the doorframe to watch Evelyn tuck Marcus into bed. She was sitting across from him on the mattress, her legs crossed Indian style, her hands weaving an intricate bedtime story.
…Wait, I don't get it!
She paused mid-sign. What? I'm serious, the entire room was made of candy.
Marcus looked at her suspiciously. Even the walls?
Of course! Everything!
Okay. What were they made of?
Evelyn paused, needing a quick answer but drawing a blank.
Candy canes, Lee provided, walking into the room.
Right! Candy canes! Evelyn signed victoriously.
Marcus smirked at his parents.
Well, if you don't believe me, I guess we'll stop for tonight, Evelyn signed.
He shook his head, a pleading look in his eyes.
You will continue tomorrow, Lee signed. Plus, tomorrow you're coming with me. You need to sleep.
They tucked him into bed and retreated to the hallway, where Evelyn took his hand and followed his careful footsteps to avoid creaking floorboards. Their room, located at the end of the hall, overlooked the small pond in the backyard. As she changed out of her jeans and light sweater and into pajamas, Evelyn noticed Lee standing still, looking out the window. She went to him, circling an arm around his waist.
What do you see?
The water. It's very still. Look at the moon.
Evelyn stretched her eyes to find it, a perfect white circle reflected on the glass-smooth surface. She nodded, and he felt it against him. Come to bed.
He followed her, stripping to his boxers. They'd removed the mattresses from the bed frames and used them for firewood in the first winter After, and sleeping with practically no support on his back was really starting to make Lee feel like an old man. He lay on his side to watch his Evelyn sign, as she always did before bed. This was the time they had completely to themselves, and she savored it. The moonlight made her skin glow in the dark, and he watched the fine bones of her hands stitch her words into the air between them. He had never really noticed people's hands before Regan was born, and was fascinated with the way people's personalities shone through by the simple movement of their hands. Watching Evelyn sign was how he imagined music would look if illustrated, even the simplest phrase was beautiful.
How was she today?
Lee sighed, thinking about his daughter. She's so brave. Strong.
She loves being with you. I can see it in her face when she comes home.
He nodded. She's having trouble with the implant again.
A shade of worry crossed Evelyn's face. The frequency?
I need to make her a higher amplifier. He noticed his wife's expression. Don't worry, I'll work on it.
He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The shadow left her face, replaced by a small smile.
She closed her eyes for a moment to savor whatever memory had just come back to her, then opened them.
What?
Today I wrote about the picnic last year. Remember?
He thought for a moment, then nodded. I remember you bought raspberries.
Strawberries.
Right. I always mix those signs up.
That was a good day. Remembering it made me feel warm inside.
A good memory, he agreed, laying on his back, still looking at her.
She nodded, then placed her hand on his chest and moved closer to him. Her palm was warm over his heart.
He lifted his right hand up and signed his name sign for her. The slightest motion of his palm and fingers back and forth, the movement dependent on a supple wrist, like linen in a breeze. When they were learning, he made it up after he watching her listen to a CD of classical music. She waved her hand like a dance through the melody.
Evelyn smirked against him, reached her hand up and made the sign of Lion over his head. He smiled.
You can cut it tomorrow.
Promise?
Promise.