Page 34 of Everything We Give

“OK,” she whispered loudly. She sat cross-legged and pulled a reed. She chewed on the end, then twirled it in her fingers. She stuck the reed in her hair and repeatedly poked her head. She tossed the reed in the pond and sighed dramatically. “This is boring. Let’s go to the creek.”

Ian lowered the camera to his lap and looked at his mom, who was no longer his mom. Sarah wouldn’t chew reeds and stick them in her hair. But Billy would.

Ian guessed Billy was a perpetual eight-year-old because he acted the way Ian imagined an annoying younger brother would act. Billy showed up after Jackie abandoned Ian on the roadside two years ago. Ian once overheard his parents talking about his mom’s appointment with a psychiatrist. The doctor reasoned Billy was his mom’s way of coping with her guilt over the roadside incident. Her mind fractured further and along came Billy. Ian noticed the less he had his friends over, the more frequently Billy appeared, as though his mom knew on some level that Ian needed a companion.

He liked hanging out with Billy, except those times he wanted to tag along when Ian and his friends went to the skate park. That would be weird.

Billy lunged to his feet and ran off. The toad returned. Awesome. Ian snapped a photo, then heard a large splash. He lifted his head in the direction of the noise and gawked. “Billy! What are you doing?”

His mom stood in the center of the shallow pond, water up to her hips. She skimmed her fingers along the water’s surface, humming. A lilting tune Ian didn’t recognize, the beauty of the melody at odds with the water’s filth.

Ian made a disgusted face. He could see the pond scum on his mom’s forearms. Ducks swam, ate, and defecated in the pond. Even he didn’t venture into the water except that one time when Marshall tripped him. Ian had stumbled back, arms flailing like windmills, and fallen on his rear. He’d been soaked. The smell alone had him hightailing it back to the house for the hose.

But despite the water thick with moss, mud, and who knew what else, his mom appeared serene. Beautiful. Billy had left and Sarah returned. Sunlight danced across the ripples she caused as she swayed. It glittered along the glossy strands of her hair. She continued to hum, head tilted toward the sky and eyes closed, the touch of a smile highlighting her face.

Ian raised the camera to his face. He wanted to remember his mom like this. Peaceful, not splintered. This was the way he was beginning to understand how her mind functioned. He pressed the shutter button. The camera clicked and his mom jerked. She stretched her hands skyward, flared her fingers, and screamed, fuming.

“Gross!” She swiveled around looking at the water, then at Ian. Her expression mirrored the disgust he felt a moment ago. Then she saw the camera. She gritted her teeth, her lips pulled back, and trudged through the thick water and up the bank, coming to stand in front of Ian. Water dripped from her drenched skirt. Her chest rose and fell, the breath coming from her sounding like an engine in the back of her throat.

Jackie.

Ian didn’t know what propelled him to take a picture at that moment. The difference between Jackie and Sarah a moment ago was startling. He wanted to document the shift. But he knew he was tempting fate. The shutter snapped and the camera flew out of his hands. Fire blistered across his cheek. Ian clapped a hand over the burn, his gaze darting from his camera in the dirt to Jackie.

“You hit my camera.”

“I hope I broke it.” Jackie stomped her feet and shrieked. “I feel disgusting.” She wrung out her skirt. “What day is it?”

Stunned from the smack she’d delivered, Ian stared at her, mute.

She gripped his upper arm and Ian hissed.

“What’s the date?” she asked.

“Fuck you,” he spat, finding his voice. He’d learned that word from her. Sarah would wash his mouth with soap should she learn how he back-talked Jackie.

Jackie shoved him away and ran to the house.

Ian stumbled over to his camera. He blew dust off the lens, inspected the film casing, and looked through the viewfinder. He pressed the shutter button, and the camera clicked. He heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was intact.

He turned to the house the same moment Jackie swung open the rear screen door. His parents didn’t want him photographing Jackie. Dogging her was too dangerous. She was unpredictable. She either spent hours prowling the house like a caged animal or left to get to God knows where. Jackie would never tell him. She treated Ian more like a brother than a son. And Ian was beginning to see her as a malicious sibling who wouldn’t think twice about harming him.

But if he wanted to be a photojournalist he couldn’t let fear keep him from going after his subject.

A shadow moved behind the lace curtains in his parents’ room. Jackie was up there. Ian bolted to the house, and the second he stepped inside, glass shattered. He glanced up at the ceiling. Drawers slammed and something heavy dropped on the floor. He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, and skidded to a stop at the room Jackie was ransacking. Clothes spilled from his mom’s dresser like a bubbled-over pot of oatmeal. His dad’s underwear and T-shirts pooled on the floor, puddles of clothes. Drawers had been upended and tossed aside. His mom’s soiled clothes were in a heap by the door. Jackie had changed into a blouse and jeans.

She opened the closet door and shoved aside his dad’s shirts and his mom’s dresses. She felt through pockets.

“What’re you doing?” Ian stepped into the room. He tightly gripped his camera as though an anchor.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Where’re the car keys?”

“I don’t know.” Ian took in the room. In less than five minutes, Jackie had created more of a mess than a passing tornado. He snapped a photo.

“I swear, kid, you take one more and I’m gonna strangle you with the camera strap.” Jackie reached for a shoe box on the top shelf.

Ian moved farther into the room. “You shouldn’t be in there.”

Jackie smiled at him over her shoulder. It wasn’t a nice smile and it took everything in Ian not to cower. Jackie raked her arm across the shelf, clearing its contents. Shoe boxes and purses landed with a thud, their contents spilling out.

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