[then]

~~ANNA~~
Polar Bears Drifting

It's warm and sunny with a cool breeze - the kind of day Anna likes best! Summer days are full of good memories and happy times. They used to go to the beach on these kinds of days. That would be nice. She thinks about asking, but it will probably cause a fight. So she doesn't ask.

Instead she rides her skateboard around outside. Well, sort of. There's only a little tiny bit of concreted area in the backyard and it's a funny sort of shape, so she can't really get up much speed. She's asked her parents if they can build a ramp in the backyard, since she can't go to the skatepark any more, and mum said yes, but then dad said it was too dangerous, and then they didn't speak for five days. She had to bring Dad his dinner in the study.

So she makes do with what she has. She practises doing an ollie standing still. Tries to do one while moving and falls over a few times - there's nowhere to land. It used to be easier, but now she seems to fall over all the time. Maybe it's the lack of practice. Or maybe part of her board needs replacing. Or maybe her feet need replacing.

When it's too hot to keep doing that, she takes off her shoes and runs around outside in the sprinkler. Her parents have told her not to put the sprinkler on (because of water restrictions), but they don't tell her off for doing it, either, so they mustn't really care that much, right? What else is there to do on a hot day like this? She jumps over the spray of water, enjoying the way it tickles her skin and admiring the little rainbows that form when light hits at just the right angle. She rolls around on the soft grass for a bit, just because. It's a little childish but it's fun! And no one will see. Well, Elsa might see, but she won't judge.

Elsa never judges. But she doesn't join in, either. She just stands there watching with her arms crossed and a sad smile, like the adults do. Like she isn't allowed to have fun any more. Sometimes Anna manages to coax her onto the trampoline, with puppy-dog eyes, but she doesn't jump. She says she's too big, so she just lies there, flopping about like a fish out of water, while Anna jumps over and around her (and sometimes on her - whoops).

Anna always does her special signature knock when she's trying to coax her family out of their caves, so they know it's her. If she doesn't, she'll get a stony silence from Mum, a grumpy "what" from Dad, a dramatic sigh from Elsa (or even an occasional "fuck off" if she's feeling bold). Sometimes she feels like a polar bear in the arctic. Her polar bear family are all standing on three separate chunks of ice, all drifting further and further apart. She's stretching her furry bear limbs to the limit trying to hold on to all of them at once. And she can't for the life of her figure out what caused the cracks in the ice in the first place.

'Come in, sweetie.'

Anna opens the door but doesn't go into her mum's room. It's dark. What does everybody in this house have against sunlight? The TV is playing something but Mum isn't watching it. She's just sitting on the side of the bed staring at the blank wall. She's in her navy work scrubs, but whether she is coming or going is unclear. She's been taking the night shift more often lately. Sleeping weird hours. She holds her arms out, 'Come here.'

Anna hates to say no, but today she also hasn't psyched herself up to be trapped in her mum's heavy embrace, feeling all that sadness coming off her like steam. Sometimes it's so thick it's stifling. Like moss growing over her. It's too nice a day to lie there like two rotting logs.

'Do you want to walk to the shop and get an icy-pole with me?'

After a pause, Mum replies, 'Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I have to go to work soon. I can get you some on the way home, okay?'

Hm. That's kind of missing the point. It's a beautiful, perfect day. It would be nice to go for a walk down the bike trail, and eat icy-poles - and this is the key part - with someone else. Anna asks another question although she already knows the answer.

'Can I walk to the shop if Elsa comes with me?'

They used to go everywhere together without parents. The skate park. McDonalds. The pool. The library. Those were the good old days.

Mum squeezes her face a little, like she's just licked a lemon. 'Not today, honey.'

Anna sighs loudly. She doesn't want to antagonise her parents, but she really isn't happy about this new way of things. It doesn't make any sense. 'How long is Elsa going to be punished for?'

'Oh, sweetie, Elsa isn't being punished.'

Mum and Dad have said as much to her before. But they're always angry at Elsa, and she and Anna aren't allowed to do the things they used to do any more. They insist that Anna isn't the one being punished either, but it sure feels like someone is. Sometimes she wonders if part of the punishment is not being told what's happening.

'Then why can't we go anywhere or do anything?'

'We just want you both to be safe, sweetie.' Mum manages to force a smile which somehow makes her look even sadder, 'Why don't you go and ask your dad?'

Her dad will say no. But Anna will go through the motions anyway. It's kind of like her job.

It's dark in Dad's study. There are piles of paper everywhere and dust on everything that isn't paper. He sits in that chair staring at that laptop so much, Anna sometimes expects to find a layer of dust on his shoulders and the top of his head. Part of the reason Anna has always looked forward to the soccer season so much was because he actually got out of that old chair on a Saturday and came outside into the world. As the fresh air and drop of sun resurrected him from the dead, at least for a day.

'Sure, I'll take you to the shop, princess,' his eyes don't move from the figures and lines of text on the screen. 'Just as soon as I finish up these reports.'

Well, that's basically code for never. Anna traces her finger over the coffee rings on the desk. She picks up the glass paperweight and lets the weight of it pull her hand down. She knows he means it, when he says it, but when the time comes he'll find another report to write or email to send. He can't help it. It's like he's stuck in a running stream and he just doesn't know how to get out and be still for a moment. She would throw him a lifeline if she knew how. But what's Dad's lifeline?

She gives him a sideways hug and a kiss on the cheek, careful not to block his vision of the screen. 'I love you, Daddy.'

'I love you too, champ.' Her heart leaps when he turns to her. Having his full, unfettered attention is so rare. It sets off the game-show ding ding ding in her head that makes her want more. But all too quickly it turns to something sour as she sees that unease in his eyes. He grips her shoulders a little too tightly, as though there are monsters down the hall, coming for them. She doesn't feel safe.

In the kitchen, mum is filling up a flask of coffee and Elsa is sitting on the bench pulling cigarettes out of Mum's bag which she abruptly shoves down her shirt even though Anna knows Elsa smokes. And Mum knows that Anna knows. She suspects Mum and Elsa smoke together. It's their secret thing. Mum and Elsa have a lot of secrets together. Anna wishes she had a special secret thing with someone in this family. She feels like she is always on display. Like she belongs to everyone yet no one belongs to her.

She feels bad for interrupting their conversation. It must have been important because they were whispering.

'What did he say?' Mum asks.

'He's just a bit busy with work,' Anna replies.

Mum rolls her eyes and sets off down the hall. Anna's chest immediately tightens - they're going to have a fight. Because of her. She should have lied and said he was going to take her to the shop in a minute.

She doesn't think she could even stomach an icy-pole any more.

Anna's first reaction is to follow and try to stop this, 'Mum, wait! It's okay-'

But Elsa holds her back with a firm hand on the shoulder and a wordless shake of the head. She pulls Anna snug into her chest like they're hiding in a bomb shelter. Waiting.

It takes all of about five minutes for the yelling to start. It sets off an alarm in Anna's head, like a fire drill, drowning out all her other thoughts. She can't follow the conversation, who is lazy, who has given up everything for this family, who refuses to do the bare minimum, who is holding what over whose head…

Elsa follows the noise, holding up a hand signalling for Anna to stay put. But Anna is sick of staying put and being left out. She is part of this family, fights and all. Especially when she is the one who caused the fight.

'For goodness sake, you know everyone can still hear you in here?' Elsa at least manages to keep her voice from rising. 'I will go to the shop. By myself. And bring back icy-poles.'

'So you can go and have a sneaky cigarette? I don't think so.'

She looks small and fragile in the spotlight of Dad's glare. Folding into herself. You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

'Oh yes, I know about that.' He says. At least he isn't shouting any more. The world begins to steady under Anna's feet. 'Though I suppose no one was going to tell me. Because that's what we do in this family, isn't it? We keep secrets.'

He looks at Mum, who looks at the ground, then to Elsa who holds his gaze blankly.

As the siren dies down in Anna's head, the fear in her body melts and turns to tears. A river of them, battering at her weak dam. It breaks and she finds herself sobbing helplessly. 'I don't even want an icy-pole any more.'

This is why they never include her. Because she just cries like a stupid baby.

'Wow. Great job,' Elsa slow claps, dripping with sarcasm that won't serve her well. 'Great parenting.' She sounds so confident when she speaks, like a politician, but her clammy hand shakes on the back of Anna's neck as she leads her back to her living room.

Anna turns on the PlayStation.

'Do you wanna talk about it?'

She doesn't. She wants to lay her head in Elsa's lap and lose herself in the soothing repetition of sowing her Minecraft seeds, harvesting her Minecraft wheat and feeding her Minecraft cows.


Some kids have a favourite soft toy, or a special blanket, or some other kind of object that they keep with them for comfort when they feel sad or scared. Even in Anna's grade. It's not that weird. Jamie brings his green bunny to school in his bag every day and thinks nobody knows.

But Anna has never needed something like that, because she has Elsa. Elsa is soft enough to burrow into, but hard enough to bear the force of Anna's feelings. Elsa doesn't break. She just gives, slightly, like a trampoline under your weight. Elsa is sad, like everyone in this family is sad. But her sadness is like a melancholy song playing in the background - gentle and kind of comforting, and makes you feel like you're not alone and you can cry if you want to. It isn't the suffocating kind of sadness of her mother's arms, or the anxious grip of her father's hand squeezing her own.

'When did you even do this?'

Right now Elsa's hands gingerly wipe specks of dirt from the mangled patch of skin on Anna's knee. It's all bumpy and red like a carpet - she's really taken a good chunk out of it. The blood has dripped all down her leg and dried in bright red stripes.

Anna winces as the Betadine solution stings her wound, 'I guess it must have been this afternoon. When I was skating in the garden.'

'You don't remember?' Elsa's eyebrows squeeze together as she asks, like she's really worried. It seems like an overreaction, just for a scraped knee. She wipes at the dried blood with a wet cloth, even though Anna is about to have a shower soon anyway. Probably doesn't trust her to do it properly. Elsa has a thing about dirt. She's often wiping things (sometimes including Anna's face) with wet-wipes. Cleaning and cutting Anna's nails and brushing her hair and adjusting her collar and socks. Anna could do these things herself, but she likes the feeling of Elsa's warm hands on her own. She likes the attention and the closeness. Sometimes she goes outside and digs in the dirt with her bare hands, just so that Elsa will give her a little manicure after. She buttons her coat up wrong so Elsa will fix it. She needs attention like a plant needs water. Even at her age, she knows this is a dangerous game, and will do her no favours, but she can't help herself.

'It doesn't really hurt.' Anna tries to reassure her. Her skin is stained yellow from the antiseptic and Elsa is carefully opening a large bandaid, using the tips of her fingers to make sure it doesn't lose its stick. Once she is done, she gives it a little kiss, smiles, and says, 'All better.'

When Elsa gets up to leave, her absence is like cold air after a warm bath. Night time is approaching and Anna's mouth goes dry as she moves through time against her will, toward the inevitable terrors of sleep. 'Wait!'

Elsa turns around. She has bags under her eyes. Blue patches where eyelids meet the sides of her nose, that she usually hides with makeup, indicating her lack of sleep. Anna feels bad for needing her so much. She knows the answer to her question before she asks it. So she doesn't ask. She's a big girl. She has to sleep in her own room.

Elsa looks at her expectantly.

'Nevermind.'

'No, what is it? You okay?'

Anna flicks through her brain for something silly to say. Something cute and charming and classically Anna. The kind of thing that makes all her family lay down their arms and laugh together. She used to have an endless supply of these kinds of comments, running through her veins. But lately she's all dried up. She manages a feeble, 'You're a butt… head.'

'I know. I'm sorry.' Elsa returns a muted smile, heads back to her own room, and closes the door.