“Have you heard of the baby man?” Jared is looking at me.
Emory starts shaking his head and going “Dude, dude” under his breath.
Wednesday says, “Don’t tell that one, Jared. That one freaks me out. Like, seriously freaks me out. It’s worse than, I don’t know, the guy with the hook or whatever that stupid urban legend is.”
Jared leans forward, his voice low and measured. “The baby man is this kind of humanoid thing, with, like, a baby face and old-man hair. He says mama a lot. And if you say it back, he’ll come closer and try to get you.”
And then of course we fall into silence, and I am listening for mama over the sound of the rain. Except for the rattling on the roof and the music coming from inside the house, it’s amazing how still the night is. As if the island is holding its breath, the trees frozen in mid-reach.
And then I hear it: “Mama,” so quiet and high-pitched that for a second I think it’s the actual baby man. Wednesday and I jump, and she knocks Jared right off the porch.
He gets up, straightens his glasses, brushes himself off, and sits back down as if nothing happened.
“Shit,” Emory says. Nervous laughter all around.
We gradually fall quiet, and then Wednesday turns to me. “Is that your real hair color?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your astrological sign?”
“Aries.”
“Do you have any pets?”
“A cat and a dog.” I don’t mention that Bradbury is back in Ohio.
“If you had the choice between this island and Patagonia, which would you choose? Don’t think, just pick one.”
“Neither. I’d choose California.”
She says, “What’s your favorite breakup song?”
“Currently? Or all-time?”
“All-time.”
I say the first song that comes into my head. “ ‘Irreplaceable’ by Beyoncé.”
She nods a kind of grudging approval. “So what’s your story?”
I think, I don’t have one fucking clue what my story is, thank you very much.
I say, “I don’t have one.” Not yet, at least, unless you count being the girl whose entire world blew up days before she graduated from high school.
Wednesday smiles at me like she knows better.
I smile at her. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“I’m a very curious person.”
“Who doesn’t have a filter,” adds Emory.
I say, “I’m here because my mom’s working on a project. What’s your story?”
“I love Greek mythology, zodiac signs, and makeup. I’m learning Japanese. I have a Chihuahua named Teddy who’s the love of my life. I’ve been playing guitar since I was twelve.” She sighs. “More than anything, I want to sing. Professionally. But my family, they think that’s something you do in the car or in the shower. They don’t get it.” She takes a drink. Sets her bottle down. “We couldn’t afford college, so two years ago I ran away from home.” She says it matter-of-factly. I study her in the light of the porch, and even though she apparently loves makeup, she’s no-makeup pretty. She looks like she was born outdoors, probably in the branches of one of these fairy-tale oaks, or like she came out of the sea and now here she is, some sort of land mermaid, a little damp but not sweating down her face like I am. “I’m here year-round like Jared.”
“Is Wednesday your real name?”
“When I left home, I renamed myself. After Wednesday Addams.” She tugs at a braid. She doesn’t offer her real name.
I say, “Does your family know where you are?”
“They do now.” But I’m not sure I believe her.
I look at Jared. “Why did you come here?”
“I grew up nearby, a little town outside of Jacksonville. Summer before college, I was planning on going to the Philippines to visit my dad’s family. You know, learn about that part of my culture, but then…” He holds up his arm, the one with the tattoo. “My friend died. Suicide. He was my person. Honestly, the only one who’s ever really known me. And it pretty much turned the world upside down.”
This immediately gets me thinking about Saz. Even though she’s still here on this earth, it feels like she’s somewhere else, somewhere much farther away than Ohio.
Jared says, “It’s been almost three years, but I still miss him. You have to make the most of it, you know. Life lessons. I always thought I’d go to, I don’t know, Atlanta or New York or somewhere bigger. But then I heard about the job here and it seemed more manageable, more what I wanted. Not so far away. Not so big and loud and in