Lakewood - Megan Giddings Page 0,30

could feel their eyes on her. Her hands curled up into fists. Especially if the person was a man, she felt completely unsafe being alone in a small cabin with him.

“Hello?” She tensed up and took a few steps toward the person. No reaction. She moved closer until, even in the dark, she could see what she had mistaken for a person was a second chair.

“I almost gave myself a fucking heart attack,” she whispered. Leaning against the wall, she let her heart reset to a normal rhythm. Relaxed and stretched out her fingers.

It had to be almost dinnertime now. If Deziree was feeling well, she would be eating a salad, probably out on the small porch. If she wasn’t, Miss Shaunté and Deziree were probably splitting takeout. They would talk about men or gardening or yoga. Her mom would have all the medicine she needed today. Tomorrow was her first physical therapy appointment. If they were trying to scare Lena, they were doing a bad job. She could live in this cabin alone, using the corner as a bathroom. Stay long enough to lose her sight, if it meant not having to do the mental calculations of what was better: paying the water bill or asking her mother to be miserable.

She sank down to the floor to give her feet a break. Something brushed her hand, but she ignored it. Better not to know. Lena wished she hadn’t drunk that last cup of coffee. She got up and walked slowly over to the box of supplies. Felt through and squinted at parts of it. Jerky, tinned fish, dried fruit, water, granola bars, a small first-aid kit. She took out some Band-Aids and removed her work shoes. A rumble of thunder. The wind picked up. Rain dripped through the roof and down onto Lena’s head.

The cabin shook throughout the night. There were patches and gulps of calm, then the storm would start again. The air smelled of mold and urine; Lena would get used to the smell, fall asleep, and then startle awake and get annoyed by the scent again. After waking up another time, she felt restless. Lena tried daydreaming: a vacation to Tokyo, eating ramen on a small stool, and buying a bunch of cool, small things she didn’t need. When that became hard to focus on, she tried screaming for a while. Not out of fear, but because it was fun being able not to care. There were times she was sure she saw things—the shape of a bat flying in a circle, a man’s shadow—when the cabin was illuminated by close lightning. Lena spread out on the floor and fell asleep.

Awakened by the cold, she stretched. Her back felt good. She did a few yoga poses. Her face and teeth felt gritty. As she ate, Lena thought about her mother. For the first time in a long time, she considered what kind of person her father might have been. Deziree never spoke about him. All Lena ever knew about him were the differences between her and her mother: Lena liked doing math; her ears were very small while her mother’s and grandmother’s were big; she had always been a little distant from religion; the ugly second toe on her left foot; her stubby eyelashes; her looser curls. She couldn’t imagine what she would do now if she met her dad. The idea of it no longer made her feel emotional, only curious. The time in her life when it might have mattered to have a second parent was over.

When Lena got bored thinking about him or all the possible types of people he could be, she did multiplication tables. More yoga. Wondered what was the point of this? Was it a test to see how much isolation it would take to make her feel moderately nuts? Was it something about survival? And how were they watching her? She went to the four corners of the cabin but couldn’t see or feel anything that wasn’t wood. A nap. More multiplication. A small meal of a granola bar. There were 24 in the box, but she wanted to be measured even though her stomach wanted her to be reckless. The night was windy, but she slept through most of it.

In the morning, there was a tablet next to her and more bottles of water in the box. Lena used the smallest amount she could in an attempt to wash her face, but she knew whatever she did had