Lakewood - Megan Giddings Page 0,62

the observers began to gather their things and followed him out the door. Lena sank back into the pillows. The little girl’s bare feet on the carpet. Her small hands on the gun. The way almost everyone in the room took notes, unfazed, as this girl killed her family, murdered her own life. Lena’s brain kept clasping the image of the mother’s head right after the shot had been fired. The sleep mask, her mouth open. Pink and scarlet and gray on eggshell walls and the charcoal pillows. Lena’s eyes watered. She hoped if they noticed, they would explain that away as another side effect.

After Dr. Lisa signed off on Lena’s health, Smith drove her home. He told her to get some clothes, some books. She was going to her mother’s house.

“Do you need help going up the stairs?” Smith asked.

“My legs are tired, but I think I’m okay.” Lena coughed.

Up in her apartment, everything was cleaner than she had left it. The carpet in her bedroom had fresh vacuum lines. All her dishes were washed. The tub and bathroom sink were sparkling. The medical power of attorney form she had filled out with a small note to Tanya had been opened.

She gathered books, checked to see if the other letters to Tanya had been found—they had not. She picked up her phone charger and some clothes. It wasn’t yet 6:30 in the morning, but Lena didn’t know what day it was. There are times in your life, Lena knew, where to think actively about what was happening in the moment, what had recently happened, would shatter everything. You could only focus on the small tasks, let them link together to build a chain to pull you through the day and hopefully toward the necessary distance needed to survive.

When she got in the car, there was coffee waiting in the cupholders. Smith said it was also okay if Lena wanted to sleep, not to worry about giving directions.

“You know, we don’t know why people need to sleep,” Smith said.

“Because we get tired?”

“It’s not that simple.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Sleep does so many things.”

“How are we going to explain to my mom why you’re there with me?”

“I’m not staying with you.”

“Am I kicked out?”

“Oh, no. No. You’re just getting a break. You need to recalibrate.”

Fog seeped off the rivers and roads, thickening the air. One of the things that made this part of Michigan different from home was how foggy it was. The locals said it was because Lakewood was in a valley. That’s why all the tornadoes avoided it too. Just the week before, Lena had heard an old man in one of the donut shops talking about how the government was learning how to control the weather now, because climate change was going to be a true crisis. His friends nodded. Lakewood was one of the test stations. No tornadoes. Blizzards miss us. You think that’s all because of a valley? The hiss of tires on the road. Rubber telling pavement gossip that shouldn’t be repeated.

Smith was driving fast. The car smelled of gas station coffee: burned, yet almost delicious. On the back roads, the car’s headlamps did little to cut through the fog, only seemed to emphasize how thick it was.

Lena pretended this was going to be an ordinary visit. They would go to the casino if her mother felt well enough. Go to the cemetery. They would make dinner together. What if her house was being observed? What if they had done to her whatever they did to Madison? There were no guns in the house, Lena reminded herself. Small cameras that looked like smudges on the ceiling. Her mother’s cell phone being used to listen in on all the conversations.

Smith drove past a car pulled over on the side of the road. Its hazard lights blinking in a 2/4 rhythm. They owned so many knives, Lena thought.

“Do you like science fiction?” Smith asked her.

“What?”

He told her that he was writing a sitcom in his free time. Aliens were planning to invade and conquer the Earth. But their plans keep getting delayed or messed up because the boss keeps telling jokes and pulling pranks, or making people mad in different ways. Stealing credit for ideas. Saying the wrong thing.

“Why wouldn’t the boss just get fired?”

“Because he’s the son of a big-time admiral in the alien space force. Nepotism. Sexism. And maybe the twist is they don’t really want to invade Earth, but aliens