Undertow (8 page)

Jim sighed, and he sounded exactly as far away as he is. “I have a Christmas present for you,” he said.

A wave of panic hit her.
He wouldn’t
. . .

Interrupting her thoughts, Jim announced that he’d changed his flight and would return in two days instead of staying in Denver for the entire winter break. “It’s been cool to see everybody and all, but I really just want to be with you, sugar. I want to celebrate New Year’s Eve together. And bring you your Christmas gift.”

Thirteen

“A
white Christmas!” Her mother’s delight made her seem a decade younger. Usually, the opposite was true: she’d gone gray before she turned forty and was often mistaken for Marissa’s grandmother. The exhausted-from-life vibe she exuded didn’t help. “We haven’t had snow on Christmas in Oregon since . . .”

Marissa was sure her mom was recalling their last Christmas together, too.

“Pretty rare,” she agreed, steering away from the danger lurking in the memory.

Their conversation was stilted; too much unspoken truth filled the space between them. Well, what did she expect? Marissa endured the false festivity, certain it would blow up into a big scene any moment. Her mother gushed gratitude for the pre-wrapped sweater from the outlet store in Lincoln City, the one stop she made while passing through on her way home. Marissa reciprocated with an equal display of enthusiasm for her mother’s present, a matching bracelet and necklace of garish beads. Obviously a re-gift, maybe even a white elephant from last year. When Marissa announced that she planned to meet up with friends that afternoon, the tension drained from her mother’s brow.

The snow dusted the grass in a light coat of powder, rather than mingling with sleet and covering the streets in ice like it usually did when it snowed in Portland. As she drove to Forest Park, she imagined herself inside a cheap snow globe, the flakes darting about and freezing time. Alone in her car as it made its way through the gray and white space, she fell into a swirling eddy of memories: her near-drowning, her salvation, the creature who rescued her, who waited for her even now. She grasped for each scene but they slipped away like the melting snow flakes on her windshield.

His face flashed in her mind’s eye. Each time it rose from her subconscious, the image became less ephemeral; today, it was buttressed by all those stories George told over dinner last night. The vision was almost solid now, as if she was remembering a guy she had dated a few years ago.

As if on auto-pilot, Marissa exited at the zoo off-ramp and followed the winding road to the forest beyond.

She walked for only a few minutes on the trail before it hit her that she’d hiked this leg of the Wildwood trail with Drake last year. Actually, they’d hiked through a lot of Forest Park—it had been their go-to cheap date. The largest forest within a city anywhere in the country, it was still wild despite the heavy use of the trails which crisscrossed its interior. Nearly everyone in town came here.

On Christmas Day, people would stay home and hang out with their loved ones, she assumed. The woods should be empty. But today the forest echoed with human voices and their yapping canine companions. If she wanted to enjoy a day of solitary communion with nature, she’d have to kill a few hikers first. At least she'd be safe with so many people around. The forest attracted not only outdoor enthusiasts, but also predators, human and feline. Still, she wasn't so sure the security was worth the tradeoff.

Underneath the chips covering the trail, the ground was slick and she slipped each time she stepped on some exposed spot. Behind her, an obnoxious couple were yakking and laughing like drunks. The embers of her anger flared. She fell back so they could overtake her on the trail, hoping they were the last noisy jerks nearby.

As Marissa trudged deeper in the forest, the voices became distant and she lost track of time. The soft snowflakes ceased to fall, and the light dusting on the trees began to melt. She gazed up into the canopy of the forest at the clouds floating by, thinning in places to permit brief glimpses of blue. The needles and branches glistened in the light which filtered through the branches.  Each time she exhaled a little puff of steam floated before her; in its mist, the nothingness undulated. She stood still as granite. The forest glowed and shimmered with life,
was
life, a living entity. Marissa closed her eyes. She pictured her feet transforming into strong roots like those of the trees, stretching deep into the earth. A sudden surge of energy flowed into her, through her, and out of her limbs into the woods around her. At that moment, everything became clear.

Marissa thrust her hands upward to the sky, opened her mouth, and began to shout. “It’s all God!”

She lunged at an enormous Douglas fir tree and laid her hands on its massive trunk. The bark was encrusted with mosses and lichens. She caressed its rough skin. “
You
are God.
I
am God.
We
are God,” she whispered to the tree, enraptured.

From nowhere, a golden lab suddenly catapulted toward her and stuck its muzzle in her crotch. Marissa clapped her hands like a toddler with a birthday cake, and cried, “
You
are God, too!” She reached her hand out to pet the dog, but he tore off toward his owner who was screeching for him. Her eyes followed the dog’s retreating haunches to the man holding its leash. The guy looked at her warily; his frame shielded a young child whose head, covered in a knit cap, was the only thing visible. Beside the man, a woman with ashen skin and an expression of alarm gripped his arm, tugging him away.

Marissa stared at them and looked wildly around. The family disappeared down the trail and left her alone again in the narrow clearing. She felt as if a tornado had caught her and tossed her about. Unable to cobble together a coherent thought, a solitary word turned in her mind like a mantra:
God
. . .
God . . . God.
But the ecstasy of cosmic union was gone; the ordinary forest was all that remained. The loss made her want to howl.

Her cell phone, which she’d neglected to leave in the car, jarred her with its urgent ringing. She grappled with her jacket and located its bulk in a pocket. Not bothering to check the display, she pressed the talk key and held the phone to her ear.

“Marissa. Hi.” The man’s voice was full of gravel.

Regret hit her like a tsunami.
Drake
. How could she have been so stupid? She said nothing and debated whether to hang up.

“Don’t hang up, please,” he said. “Please. Merry Christmas.” Drake didn’t give up, even though she remained silent. “Marissa, you’ve got to talk to me, please.”

“Why?” She spat the word out, unable to think of anything else to say or do.

“It’s been months . . .”

“Yeah, I know. I remember,” she said. The shock of Drake’s sudden re-emergence into her life started to fade. “There’s a reason it’s been months. You know that.”

“Listen, please. Marissa, honey, that’s all over.”

“So I heard.”

“You must have talked with Kelly. I saw her a few weeks ago,” he said.

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Yes, it does matter.” Drake’s voice was emphatic. “It was a mistake, Marissa. Just a stupid mistake.”

“You’re kidding right?” Anger fueled her reply. “You go and rip my heart to shreds so you could do Amy, then decide it was all ‘just a stupid mistake?’ Like dialing a wrong number?”

“No, not ‘just’ a mistake,” Drake said, obviously emboldened by her willingness to continue talking to him. “Like the worst damn mistake ever. I miss you like crazy.”

The impact knocked her breath away as if he'd slugged her in the chest.

“Marissa?
Did you hear me?”

Her voice was weak, but she managed to say, “I heard you.” Now, he’d move in for the kill, no doubt.

“I miss you. I l
ove
you,” he said.

She was right: he didn’t disappoint. “I don’t care.” Her words were faint to her ears, as though they were pulled from somewhere far beyond her. She pushed the button on the phone. Stumbling backwards a few steps, her back bumped into the trunk of a tree; she slid down it and sat in the icy mud. Drawing her knees to her chest, she grabbed her ankles and rocked. Tears warmed her cheeks before evaporating into the cold air.

Bastard
, she thought.
That bastard
.

Fourteen

S
he returned from her hike with mud smeared on her jeans and mascara streaked across her cheeks. The panicked expression on her mother’s face was like a sign on the freeway that warned of danger ahead. Her mother stood there, stone still, eyes huge. Only when Marissa started walking toward the guest room did her mother speak.

“Mari,” she called in a shaky voice. “Sweetie . . . what happened? Where have you been?”

It was strange, how vacant her mind felt. There really wasn’t an explanation or excuse, none that would come to her. So why not say the truth?

“Walking.”

“Alone? Where?”

“Forest Park.” Marissa half-turned toward her mother. Maybe if she didn’t get caught up in her interrogation, she would get a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card sooner.

“Oh my God, Mari! Have you lost your senses? You can’t go there by yourself!” Her mother’s fists were pressed tight against her hips and she looked like she would lose her struggle to maintain any minute.

Too emotionally drained to answer, Marissa didn’t reply.

Something vaguely recognizable clouded her mother’s face. Fear, maybe, or confusion. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Marissa’s shoulders.

“Mari . . . Mari . . . what’s happening to you?” Her mother trapped her in the rigid embrace.
“I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

Tears soaked her sleeve, and Marissa squirmed until she was released. Avoiding her mother’s eyes, she stared at the door. No doubt her mom would nip at her like a terrier until given a detailed description of the insides of her brain. Too exhausted to deal, she said, “I’m fine. Just tired from all the hiking. I’m going to bed now.”

“But it’s only seven thirty,” her mother said. “Why don’t we have a cup of tea?”

 “No. thanks. Good night, Mom.”

Walking away, Marissa heard her mother’s patented the-world-is-such-a-burden sigh.

Before the light began to illuminate her room, Marissa awoke with a writhing colony of worms encased in her skin. She pulled on her last clean pair of jeans, a sweater, and her boots, still muddy from yesterday’s excursion, before popping a piece of gum in her mouth to avoid having to run water in the bathroom down the hall to brush her teeth and risk waking her mom.

By eight forty-five her car was at the Park and Ride and she stood with a throng of post-Christmas shoppers waiting for the blue line to town.
What a worthless holiday
, she thought.
Spend a ton of cash to give people stuff—it’s the thought that counts, right?—and the next day they take it all back and get what they really wanted.

Marissa grabbed a seat on the crowded train which pulled to the station. The other passengers eyed her suspiciously. Two girls seated across from her whispered to each other, and when the blond caught Marissa looking at her, she flinched and clutched her packages closer to her chest. At the next stop, a handful of commuters climbed aboard, slacks pressed, nails groomed, newspapers tucked in leather totes. Polished people. Worker bots, off to cubicle land, probably. She bet most of them checked their work email on Christmas. They avoided the empty seat next to her and gripped the hand straps above the aisle, staring straight ahead.