Two Paths Diverged

Her thumbs pushed deftly into her shut eyelids, as if the pressure could halt the pulsing headache thrumming through her head with a nauseating swell. Mona concentrated on the needling fireworks of color playing against the inside of her eyelids. And, of course, there was that feeling again. That fluttering nestled in the soft cleft beneath the sternum - a flailing, scrambling, slipping need to scream.

“Mona, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be walking out the door this minute. Tell me you’re ready to go.”

Mona’s eyes snapped open to meet her own strained glare in the reflection of the vanity mirror. A cursory glance would have taken in a simple black sheath dress and black pumps tastefully complemented by small pearl earrings, framing a somewhat wan complexion. But Mona saw nothing. 

“Mona, now.” Her mother was dressed in nearly identical outfit, the toe of those black pumps tapping imperiously on the wooden floor as Mona leapt to her feet and met her eyes blankly. 

Mona’s mother continued her scolding down the flight of stairs and into the car. Listed as offenses against her included the slack, unbrushed waves of chestnut hair, dull, chewed nail beds, and the fact that she had not managed to smear even a dab of makeup on to offset that sallow, wax-like complexion. Emptied of readily available barbs and with no discernable defense from the accused, her mother switched tactics with feigned offhandedness.

“Didn’t I hear you say you ran into Essa at Arrowhead Park last week? I had no idea you two were talking again. Though, of course, a decade of friendship doesn’t just vanish after a silly little tiff. You never even told me why you stopped talking in the first place. No word at all. One day running around the park with your best friend, next moment running off to some new city with no thought for the rest of us. I swear, it...” 

Until this point, Mona’s forehead remained pressed against the car window, cooled by the August chill. She had been following the raindrops speckling the glass, sliding and bumping into one another before merging and lilting downwards. Mostly, she had been tuning out her mother’s carefully selected points of inflection. She smudged it together with the incessant pulse in her head, like running a thumb over an imperfection in the mirror. 

Mona brought her head away from the glass and swiveled it heavily to meet her mother. She mustered her most patient smile, more of an apologetic twitch at the corners of her mouth. 

“Hey mom, is it ok if we listen to the radio? I’ve just got a massive headache…”

Mona’s mother opened her mouth to dissent but thought better of it, clicking on the radio and tuning through stations. She twittered something about the station hosts here being the same ones she grew up listening to, but Mona’s mind has relapsed once more into the pulsing ebb. Puzzle pieces of her hometown blurred and spun together obscurely behind the dancing raindrops on the window.

“Arrowhead Park.” Her mother extended a finger distantly to the dilapidated wooden sign pockmarked now by BB-gun pellets and graffiti symbols long since abstracted by weather. Mona’s eyes traced the familiar sign, the left-hand path that ran into an open field normally saturated with young families, dogs chasing tennis balls, rollerblading teenage couples. Today, it stood muted and empty, the vibrant lawn now bloated with rainwater. Despite herself, her eyes drifted warily to the right-hand path. It stood swallowed darkly by the thick arch of trees and intense greenery. She thought of that trail that she had paced a thousand times and once more last week. Just like that, the memory surfaced itself fixedly, like a wayward air bubble trapped beneath a tangle of reeds.

Last Thursday began much the same as any other from Mona’s childhood; a pleasant morning progressively harried by the little personal digs cast by her mother. Mona had met her mother’s gaze while she listed off her various culpabilities and wondered, not for the first time since boarding the plane, whether the doctor had summoned her to her hometown for her mother’s supposed health concerns or simply as a reprieve from her manic appointments. The woman in front of Mona showed amazing mental dexterity now as she rattled off the various charges spanning the last three years since her last visit. Within the hour, Mona found herself walking briskly down the familiar crumbling sidewalk, through the cul-de-sac, and down the street with the vague sense that the prior conversation ran like an overplayed movie scene.

For that reason, it was no surprise when Mona’s tired sneakers stopped within view of the Arrowhead park sign. The piercing squeals of excited children and barreling woofs of family dogs clattered against her ears. A cacophony of early fall excitement. 

Mona abruptly about-faced and walked briskly towards the densely shaded path, drawn in by the promise of familiarity absent noise. The trail traced a broad half-oval around a still pond, ending in a boardwalk overlooking the serene water. But Mona knew that the view from the end of the trail meant that you shared it with fishermen casting and recasting their hooks, couples documenting their date night with copious amounts of selfies, and any other characters attracted by a good view and easy hike. Her path diverged from the trail at the very first fallen oak tree, down a leaf-padded embankment, to a broad Cypress tree nestled on a flat bank from which the water retreated a few feet. The remarkable thing about this tree was that its broad base seemed to billow away from the water, like a sail cupping a swelling wind. It was not visible from the trail and its trunk could perfectly fit two persons sitting side-by-side when the water level was low. Mona nestled thankfully into her familiar nook and extended her heels to sink heavily into the damp sand. She leaned her head against the wood behind her and listened contentedly, absently. The whir of the fishing lines along the boardwalk, the splash of some creature disturbing the water’s surface for too brief a moment to even see it, and the shrieks of children at play are warmly muted against the fold of the tree trunk. 

A slight tugging, a cool emptiness beside her ruffles the air and causes Mona to glance to her right. That space, its discovery, even its current refuge was like borrowed jewelry. Beautiful and jealously not belonging to her. Mona remembered the last time they had tucked themselves into that trunk and the way that she would look back and wonder at how quickly everything crumbled. She would anxiously replay the events of their last night there and wonder if it would have mattered if she stayed. If she had stayed in this town, not fled to a new life washed of small town enmeshment, remained a fixture of this slow life. Would that save anyone?

You would have drowned, too. 

The crack of a nearby twig made Mona rise to her knees and whirl around just in time for her wide eyes to lock with equally startled eyes as they froze. 

“Essa?” The stranger had raised a protective hand over a heavily swollen belly, the fingers loosening at the mention of the name. Mona’s wide eyes switched to staring at the hand.

“Mona? What are you doing here?” 

Mona found herself transported back three years to the last evening she spent in the town of her youth. That evening, just as placid, punctuated by angrily hurled insults lapped at the edges of her mind.

“I’m in town. My mom…her doctor…” With that, Essa’s dark eyes softened and she leaned appreciatively against a nearby tree. 

“Your mom’s health. I’m so sorry, I hope she’s ok.” 

Despite the sincere tone, Mona felt distantly stung by the formality of the conversation. This from the girl who she had shared her teenage crushes, dreams of escaping this town, and every other shadowy secret of youth. Essa looks exactly the same; dark curls framing a wide, welcoming face with dark doe eyes. Something about her felt different, there was a slight darkness rimming her eyes and a gauntness adding definition to her typically round face. Mona attributed it to the rigors of pregnancy, the swollen curve of which was wrapped protectively in an oversized flannel jacket.

Mona gestured to the curve of the trunk next to her, “Come sit down, there’s still plenty of space if you want. I was just going to head out anyway.”

Essa was on the other side of the tree before she finished talking. Gratefully, she accepted Mona’s outstretched palm and lowered herself into the soft sand beside her.

“Stay awhile. Besides, I may not be able to get back on my feet on my own.”

Essa smiled widely at her own admission and Mona felt the tension ease slightly. She laughed, more from relief than anything else. 

“So…congratulations are in order. How far along are you?”

Essa stared straight ahead but Mona noted her shoulders relaxed against the trunk.

“Seven months.”

Mona nodded but her mind searched doggedly for a response or a question to ask. So many topics remained enmeshed with those that would expose old wounds. Essa seemed to sense hesitance and turned her head against the tree to face Mona.

“What about life outside of our little old stomping grounds? Do you ever miss it?”

Mona chuckled quietly at the earnest expression that took over Essa’s open face. 

“I miss this. I miss this place, of course.”

Mona added the last part hurriedly. Essa’s smile flickered upwards as she looked over the sun-tinged expanse in front of them. Her words came so quietly that Mona almost did not hear them.

“I’m glad you got out of this place.”

Mona winced slightly. 

So she still wishes I was gone.

But Essa was looking directly at her and, reading her expression, blew air out through her nose in a chuckle.

“I’m not saying I’m happy you left, I am just glad you got out of here. You were always the one who was going to get out of here. I always knew I would stay.” She put a hand on her belly, her eyes became glossy and rolled upwards. 

Mona had been fiddling with a stone in the sand during the exchange, outlining its edges with her fingernail and slowly prying it back and forth out of the sand. Essa’s still-unfocused gaze pounced on Mona’s hand, pinning it in place on the stone. Amusement sparked presence back into her eyes as she craned her neck around her.

“Hey! Remember when we used to make those rock formation tower things?”

Mona did remember. They spent many evenings stacking flat-backed stones on top of one another, positioning them expertly to balance the weight of each rock in intricate arrangements that defied gravity. 

“How can I forget? Remember when we left one up too long one summer and a water snake decided to move in?”

Essa laughed openly, clutching her stomach as she pried various stones from the sandy bed around her on hands and knees.

“What I remember is you screaming so loud about that little bitty snake that someone on the boardwalk called the police.”

Mona and Essa both laughed, wheezing and clutching their knees to keep from rolling backwards into the sand. Mona gathered a few stones from her efforts and joined them with Essa’s building out the foundation of their stack. Time passed as the mid-afternoon sun traced the shadow of the tree limbs behind them. A crisp fall breeze floated sprawlingly against the two women as they worked, threatening the careful configuration of the growing mound of rocks. The sky had taken on that unusually profound shade of cloudless blue that offset the yellows, oranges, and reds tinging the surrounding trees. For a while, they toiled and chatted, laughing intermittently as they traded stories from their childhood. Mona would recall that day many times in the years to come and wonder if Essa had any inkling that this would be the last time they ever spoke.

“I’m sorry for it, you know.”

Mona looked up in surprise, trying to piece together this strange concession with their prior topic of conversation. Essa met her gaze straightforwardly, firmly.

“The last time we were here. The last night before you left. I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

Mona held her gaze in surprise. Something rippled behind the obscurity of Essa’s dark eyes, something desperate. 

“I said some things, too. I didn’t mean to cause problems, I know you were already married at that time…”

The mention of marriage had a strange effect on Essa’s face. Her lips twitched downwards quickly and her gaze retreated again. Absently, her fingers traced the hollow at the base of her throat. Mona glanced at Essa’s hand distractedly, noticing vague shadows around the skin of her throat and wondered if it was a trick of the light. An urgent pulse began to beat on Mona’s temples as she searched for the words to continue. Flashes from that night three years ago played in time with the throbbing: the mottled bruises covering the length of her arms, the split lip that swelled vividly, the insistence that this was the first and last time he would ever hit her. 

“Ess, I know it might feel like you have no options. I know you think you have to stay for your sake, for the baby…”

Essa’s eyes welled and she dropped her chin to her chest. Mona could only see the top of her head but traced the droplets as they fell straight into the sand. Her chest ached with the silent admission lingering in the space between them. Mona tried to control her voice, wavering with the burden of truth that fractured their friendship years ago.

“Essa, please come with me. You can leave him and just come stay with me. He’ll never lay a hand on you ever again…”

Essa raised her chin slowly and the last two tears ran down either side of her cheek. She smiled vacantly but Mona was unnerved to see that it did not reach her eyes, which reflected dark steel. A mask of obscurity shuttered across her face and Mona had the sensation of falling backwards in a dream.

“Everything will be ok.”

Essa smiled wanly at her own quiet words. She struggled to her feet and leaned heavily against the tree. She stared fixedly into the underbrush, glanced at their stacked stones, and drew Mona into a quick hug before she turned and left up the bank without another word. Mona stared after her, willing herself to chase Essa and beg her to come with her, convincing her to make the choice that she could not make three years ago. Instead, Mona stared after the ambling figure, glued to the dark marks just visible above the collar of her shirt as she disappeared back onto the path.

Mona was transported back into the present by the mention of Essa’s name. Mona blinked twice and reconnected with her own throbbing headache like a head-on collision. Her mother was tutting and asking her a question. Mona’s head lolled forward as they rolled to a stop at the light, the rain now pelting the windshield with spiteful vigor. 

“What?”

“I said, ‘Did you ever suspect anything?’ From her husband? Everyone I talked to has said what a nice guy he is, that he would never be the type to kill…”

Mona did not hear the rest of her mother’s sentence before she flung open the door of the car, tripping thickly from her seat while her mother screeched in horror. She ran dizzily from the car, through the street and past the Arrowhead Park welcome sign. Mona ran from what awaited her at the end of the car ride: the swarm of people circling the open casket, mourning the dark-featured woman frozen forever in expectant beauty. Mona knew that her eyes would only search for the dark bruises not quite hidden by the pale makeup, snaking gruesome tendrils around her lifeless throat.

She slipped down the embankment, surrendering her heeled pumps to the viscous ground. She stumbled through the underbrush as the rain pelted through shaking branches. The droplets fell showered Mona relentlessly, but she heard nothing beyond the pounding in her head. She saw nothing, green and gray blurred and spun endlessly like the view from the car window until she found herself face down in the waterlogged sand. Mona rolled over, grasping her ankle as pain stabbed up her leg. Blearily, she focused her gaze on the culprit and as her vision cleared, Mona heard a woman’s scream. Ripping and rage-filled, the sound tore through the sheets of rain like a knife. Next to her ankle lay the remains of a stone pile, scattered and sunken in the sand.