The Rift

I

“Alex, do you remember this?”

Seventy-year-old Sabella Laaksonen handed an old Polaroid picture to her sixty-four-year-old brother. A rangy pre-teen girl with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles across her nose stood beside a young dark-haired boy with a similarly freckled nose. A rope ladder extended into the tree behind them, leading up to a treehouse. The boy held a hammer and the girl held a saw.

“You’d think it was us that did the work and not Dad,” Sabella chuckled. “Now we’re both gray and I don’t think it would be wise for either of us to climb up to a treehouse. I always did love it here at Dark Lake. I often wished Dad would have just moved us here. I hated going back to El Paso, back to another year of being the scapegoat of all the snooty girls at Jubilee.”

“Don’t suppose it would have made financial sense,” Alex speculated. “There’s more money to be made in oil than maple syrup.”

“I know, but Dad always seemed happier when we were here too. He always wanted to live in Vermont, but he never had a chance to enjoy his retirement.”

“Yeah, it seems kind of unfair to get taken out by a stroke just three weeks after you hang up the spurs, so to speak. Ain’t lost on me that I’m only a year younger than he was. It also ain’t lost on me that I had to go on disability when I was only 53.”

“There’s no shame in it, Alex. You had such an important job, and the folks at the fire department still love you. You were smart to move back to Vermont after you graduated from college. I spent all those years in Texas working jobs that I didn’t like much and wishing I could be here. Looking at these pictures is kind of bittersweet. I wish we could step back into those days and be those kids again for an afternoon, climbing up into our treehouse, telling stories, scheming, dreaming, having backyard barbecues, and sleeping out in the tent. When we got older, nothing seemed to be very much fun anymore.”

“I saw you in Bear and Wolf’s café today with old Tio Monday.”

“Yes, I met Tio when I took that doll and one of the records and books that I found over to that doll hospital and antique place. The doll was a replica of Tio’s brother Rey. It was made by Wafi Gabriels, the fellow who owns the doll hospital. Those guys are so old they make us look young,” Sabella laughed. “Tio’s a real sweetheart. I don’t know how he manages to have such a sunny attitude when he lost his brother in such an awful way.”

“I wouldn’t go letting yourself think he’s too much of a sweetheart,” Alex suggested as he flipped through the old photos in the shoebox.

“What in the world are you getting at?” Sabella demanded.

“I’m saying you’ve always had the tendency to become too attached to flaky guys who end up breaking your heart.”

“Jesus wept,” Sabella groaned. “Alex, I’m seventy years old. I have no interest whatsoever in any sort of romantic entanglement, particularly with a man who is old enough to be my father. I’ve never been lucky in love. I’m well and away done with that nonsense. I don’t know why you had to ruin a perfectly nice visit with your crude insinuations.”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything crude. But you know that you have a tendency not to think things through when it comes to the men you allow in your life.”

“And when did I last allow a man in my life?” Sabella demanded. “The only men in my life right now are my son and my brother, and at this moment Fionn is the only one of the aforementioned who isn’t on my shit list. I’m allowed to have friends, Alex. Tio Monday is a sweet old man. He’s friends with everybody. We used to be the best of friends, you and me. What happened to us?”

“Could be something to do with you running off with Khorramdin and not even saying goodbye.”

“That wasn’t about you, Alex. That was about Mom and Dad trying to control my life. I left with Khorramdin because they were treating me like I was ten years old. Mom didn’t even try to hide her disdain for him. They didn’t like the fact that he was Iranian. Dad didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t Catholic, but at least he was civil. Mom pretty much treated him like a terrorist. He wasn’t even a practicing Muslim. He was pretty much an atheist. I don’t know what they told you, Alex, but you turned cold to me after I moved out. You didn’t even show up for the twenty-first birthday party that I organized for you.”

“You stole my Doors 8-track.”

“I didn’t steal it! I had borrowed it, and after Mom called me a whore when I left with Khorramdin, I wasn’t about to come back until she apologized. It took her four months to do so. Did you ride her ass about that?”

“Dad never got over you not going to college.”

“Well, I became a nurse like Mom was before she married Dad. In fact, I think I became a nurse to try and make them proud of me. I never really enjoyed it. Mom insisted that I needed to have a career to fall back on. I cared about the people I worked with, but I was so depressed all the time. It wasn’t like you and firefighting. You had passion for your work. I had to talk myself out of suicide every time a new week rolled around. Do you know what that’s like?”

“I never stop feeling the injury that ended my career, Bella. You may have your aches and pains, but I feel like boiling oil is pumping through the veins in my back twenty-four-seven, and nothing brings relief. So, what the hell do you think? You were always moaning and groaning because you had aches and pains or were tired or sad. Try walking in my shoes sometime and see what real pain means.”

“I had no idea you resented me so much,” Sabella said softly, turning away so that her brother wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. “Alex, I loved you from the moment you were born. I was so proud to help take care of my baby brother. I cried when I had to go back to school, and I ran home every day so I could help Mom with you. It broke my heart when our relationship eroded away after I left home. I hoped that living close to each other again would mean that the rift would start to heal. But my life has not exactly been a fucking bowl of cherries either and I won’t let you emotionally abuse me. If you really hate me as much as you seem to, please don’t come around here anymore.”

“Sorry things went south, Sabella. I was only trying to help.”

“Just like the rest of this family, you can never apologize without making excuses for your behavior. Don’t think that I don’t see through you, Alex. You think that I’m stupid and incompetent. You don’t think that I’m capable of managing by myself. You’re right, I’m not, but I need compassionate assistance, not invasive micromanaging. I’m sorry that you got caught in the crossfire of my fight with Mom and Dad. I did a lot of things that I regret, but one thing that I’ll never regret is having Fionn. That’s the one good thing I’ve ever done. It’s probably better if we call it a night before either of us says something else that we’ll regret, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I suppose. You always were thin-skinned. I hoped that working in the medical field would have toughened your hide, but you’re still just as fragile as ever.”

“I’m not fragile, Alex. I’m old and I’m tired. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m sorry you’re in constant pain. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a better sister. I’m sorry for everything. But I’m not sorry that you’re my brother, because even if your resentment of me has built to a point where we can’t ever be friends again, I’ll always remember the brother I had in these pictures.”

Sabella put the picture of herself and Alex in front of the treehouse aside and thrust the box containing the remaining photos at her brother.

“Here. Take them home and choose the ones you want, then bring the remaining ones back. I hope you sleep well tonight, Alex. I hope you sleep well tonight and every night, and I’m sorry.”

Alex glanced remorsefully at his sister, who now sat on the end of the couch weeping silently. He took the box of photos and left without another word. As he walked to his truck, he could hear her mournful sobs blending with the sounds made by the denizens of Dark Lake. He remembered back to the long-ago summers when he and Sabella would climb up to the treehouse and read horror comics, then make up their own spooky stories. He wished that he could go back to the days when he could run and climb, back when it didn’t constantly feel like someone was pouring molten lead down his spine.

For as long as he could remember, Alex wanted to be a firefighter. Dad had wanted him to carry on the family tradition of being an oilman. If he’d done that, he probably wouldn’t have a fucked-up spine, but there was also a strong chance that he would have committed suicide, had he not died of boredom.

“Bella ain’t the only one who’s depressive,” Alex muttered to himself. “I just wish she’d make a better effort to hide her doom and gloom rather than wearing it like a badge of honor.”

II

Inside the house, Sabella dried her tears. She cleared the table, putting the dishes in the sink and the leftovers in the refrigerator. She was about to go to bed when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s too goddamn soon, Alex,” Sabella called. “You need to let the air clear!”

Sabella was surprised to see Tio Monday standing on the porch when she peered out the peephole. He was wearing a white suit with white loafers and a white fedora, his thin white curls billowing about the brim. Sabella suppressed a smirk, thinking that Tio’s outfit made him look like someone had washed Don Johnson in hot water, causing him to shrink. She opened the door.

“Tio, what’s going on?” Sabella asked. “Is everything okay?”

“She fine, Miss Sabella,” Tio said. He took a black box out of the pocket of his blazer, and for one horrible moment, Sabella feared that this man she barely knew was going to propose to her. But instead of getting down on his knees, Tio handed Sabella the box.

“De elder sign am finish,” he declared. “I wants you to have it quick sticks. Livin’ by Dark Lake, you can’t be too careful, no ma’am.”

Sabella removed the rough-hewn star with the flaming eye in the center from the box, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Tio, it’s beautiful!” she declared. “Thank you so much! My brother will probably read me the riot act when he sees it, but I don’t care. I suppose I should say ‘if he sees it,’ but he’ll see it. My family never keeps their promises of never speaking to those they’re pissed at again.”

“You on de outs wit’ your brother?” Tio inquired.

Sabella sighed.

“We had a real donnybrook not fifteen minutes ago,” she explained. “He still resents me for leaving home to be with my son’s father. One minute we were having a great time reminiscing about summers up here at Dark Lake, the next minute he was…oh, it’s too ridiculous. Would you like a cup of tea or something?”

“I take oolong, nice and strong, maybe just a quick sip of something hard ‘fore I lay down my cards,” Tio sang, lowering his voice about an octave. “You hear dat one yet, Miss Sabella? Victory Blues, fourth song, fourth album. I suppose dese days dey be rappin’ it, but if you ask me, it’s gotta be da blues.”

“I haven’t had a chance to listen to the records yet,” Sabella confessed. “Alex came over for dinner. Come on in the kitchen. It’s still a bit of a mess. I was going to head up to the attic to take my mind off the fight with Alex. I don’t think I have any oolong. I’ve got this decaf vanilla chai that I like to drink before I go to bed.”

“Well, let’s have dat. I ain’t had it before. My daddy always say dat if you keep tryin’ new tings, you stay young, yes ma’am. Only ting is, I don’t try new tings much, I just do da tings I like, and it keep me young. I be one happy chile if only I could have my best people with me always. Dis is why I always try to meet new best people, ‘cause sometimes da old ones up and go away.”

“I find that sometimes the best people aren’t the two-legged kind,” Sabella said as she shook up the chai concentrate with almond milk and ice. She poured the beverage into two glasses. “Most of my best people were the feline kind. All but one have died during the past five years. I gave the last one to my son. I was gone a lot, and she didn’t like it.”

“Some cats ain’t like to be alone,” Tio agreed. “I be dat kind of cat. But some cats loves to play solitaire. Rey was dat kind of cat, specially when de black dog draped itself ‘round his shoulders like a ugly ole mink stole and de monkey on his back got to tearin’ pieces out of his heart.”

“I guess I’m something of both,” Sabella stated as she set the iced chai on the table and sat down. “I like working alone. I ended up working with people way more than I wanted to. I’m kind of an introvert. But if I’m by myself too much, I think too much, and that doesn’t turn out well either.”

“No, it don’t. I never were much of a drinker, no ma’am. Never could hold my liquor. It end up all over my feet when I try, so after about a half-dozen times, I say I don’t care if da rest of you fellows laugh at me, I’m gonna stick to my lemonade and my sweet tea. Now Rey, he weren’t no obnoxious drunk, no ma’am. He were a quiet drunk. He be sippin’ and sippin’ from de time he wake up to de time de sun set, an’ den de sun rise an’ he get up an’ do it all over again. I see too many good people wind up in de graveyard from fallin’ in a bottle or stickin’ a needle in they arm or puttin’ powder up they nose.”

“Is that why Rey drowned?” Sabella asked. “I mean…was he drinking when he drowned?”

“Oh, no ma’am, Rey were on de wagon on de night he die. He were murdered. See, de sheriff wanna say my brother were sloppy drunk and fall in da lake, but all de blood drained from his body. I tell dem ‘my brother ain’t get run over by de Night Train! You look at him!’ But dey just tell me dem marks on him be from fishes bitin’. I ask ‘em if its vampire fishes. Dey rule it ‘death by misadventures.’ Now, maybe it’s best if I ain’t say no more on dat just yet. Since you am a new Best People, I ain’t wantin’ you to tink de old man is off his rocker.”

“I’m the lady who talks to angels, Mr. Monday, remember? I’m not inclined to think that people with unusual theories are crazy. There are some things in this world that just can’t be explained away logically.”

“Dat am so, ma’am. Even as, I tink it best we revisit de subject another time. Now, dis elder sign, it am made from silver by yours truly, and I bless it wit de Water of Dreams. Now, dat am pretty good protection, but if you want to truly make it your very own shield, you want to rub wit’ a few drops from your own blood, but I understand if you tink maybe dat idea go too far.”

“Not at all,” Sabella countered. “But don’t you think it would be best if we had a candle and some incense for a proper ceremony?”

“I am glad your eyes be open, Miss Sabella,” Tio praised. “When Rey tell me you de right one for dis house, well, I trust his judgment, but now dat I meet you for myself, I know for certain dat we align right. We gots all da tools we need right here in da house, and I’m gonna show you where.”

Tio led Sabella to what appeared to be a blank granite wall in the pantry. He began to chant.

“Yesod, Dream-gate, open the portal that I may retrieve the tools for my journey.”

Sabella gasped as the structure of the wall became nebulous. Tio reached in and procured a black satchel, which he handed to her. He reached in again and brought out a broom.

“Every kitchen witch need a broom,” Tio said with a wink as Sabella blinked her eyes, wondering if she was dreaming.