Candy Cain Kills, page 2
Staring at the rugged landscape, it’s hard not to think about that movie, and the absolutely awful timing of this little family trip.
Just two nights ago, Austin and his friends went out for their regular Friday night movie ritual. Usually, this meant yelling at the screen during some trashy horror remake that Ethan picked. But sometimes Mateo, an aspiring arthouse filmmaker, would insist on something a bit more cultured. Austin didn’t know much about the film his best friend was dragging them to see at the Aero Theater that night, other than maybe it was a Western?
Brokeback Mountain was not a Western.
It was a big-screen mirror, reflecting all the thoughts and feelings that had been silently stirring in Austin for years. Seeing those two men together on the screen made him excited and scared and sad in swirling waves until the lights finally came on, finding Austin frozen in the theater seat, exposed like a raw nerve.
Valerie stood first with a big yawn. “Well, that was boring as shit. Let’s go back to my house and get crunk.”
Part two of the Friday ritual involved going back to Valerie’s basement for suburban debauchery. Predictably, Valerie drank too much that night and threw up, so Mateo had to put his girlfriend to bed early. Equally predictable was Ethan getting so stoned on skunk weed that he passed out on the basement couch.
When Mateo came back downstairs, he suggested they chill outside; and that’s how Austin found himself sitting in the grass with his best friend, a bottle of Captain Morgan between them, and a whole lot of butterflies swarming in his gut.
Growing up down the street from each other, Austin and Mateo were inseparable from an early age. They’d ride their bikes to school, play video games after, watch obscure foreign films on DVD during endless sleepovers. Austin couldn’t imagine his life without Mateo; but it was junior year, and college applications were bringing that reality into focus. Mateo was destined for NYU film school, while Austin’s family couldn’t afford anything outside of Cal State. The more Austin thought about losing Mateo, the more he realized how deep his feelings ran.
“What’d you think of the movie?” Mateo finally asked, passing the bottle.
“It was good, yeah.” Austin gulped the spicy amber liquid.
“Pretty hot, huh?”
Austin couldn’t tell if Mateo was joking, so he played it safe as he passed the bottle back. “Yeah. I can’t believe Anne Hathaway showed her boobs. So cool.”
Mateo laughed and took a bigger swig of rum. “I’m not talking about Anne Hathaway.”
He held the bottle out, looking Austin directly in the eye. Austin’s mouth went dry as he reached for it, placing his hand on Mateo’s. They stayed like that, hands clasped together around the glass for what felt like an eternity until Austin couldn’t take it anymore.
He lurched forward and placed a sloppy kiss on Mateo’s lips.
Before either of them could speak, the sliding glass door zipped open behind them.
“Mateo,” the puke-mouthed zombie groaned.
Mateo leapt to his feet. “Valerie.”
“Come snuggle me.”
While Mateo hurried to help his drunk girlfriend back up to bed, Austin just sat and stared at the flamboyant pirate on the rum label, feeling like a total idiot. No way was he sticking around until morning for the awkwardness that would ensue. He took the Captain with him and walked the three miles home.
When he woke up with a raging hangover and remembered what he’d done, he wanted to crawl out of his skin. But he knew he couldn’t run from this; he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He figured he and Mateo could talk it out that day, for better or worse; but when Austin went downstairs, he found his whole family gathered in the living room.
“Another family meeting,” Fiona explained, eating a bowl of Corn Pops on the couch.
“Your father has a surprise for us.” Mom leaned against the wall and sipped her coffee.
Dad swiveled around in the computer chair to face them. “I booked us a house on the internet.”
“I don’t think we’re all gonna fit in there.” Fiona pointed her spoon at the Dell desktop over Dad’s shoulder.
“Very funny,” Dad said. “Come on, take a look. It’s out near Big Bear.” He scrolled through the internet posting. “A remote little getaway in the mountains. We’ll get out of LA, have a real winter wonderland Christmas.”
Austin stared at the pixelated image of a stone cottage in the middle of the woods. “When are we leaving?” was all he could muster back.
“Tomorrow,” Dad responded. “So, we’re going to spend today packing together, as a family.”
“What if I had plans with my friends for winter break?” Austin asked.
“Your friends aren’t going anywhere,” Mom said.
“This is going to be good for us,” Dad promised. “Some quality time together with no distractions.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Divorce was all the rage, and Austin’s parents had been teetering on the brink for far too long. Valerie’s parents split last year, and part of Austin wished that his would just get it over with already. They were constantly fighting about money, especially after racking up all those medical bills for Fiona’s tests and treatments.
Austin’s earliest memories of his sister were of the little baby screaming and crying in pain, his parents obsessively fussing over her day and night. He sympathized with his sister, he really did. He just couldn’t help feeling resentful that she soaked up all Mom and Dad’s attention with—
Thump.
The sound pulls Austin back to the gas station, where he leans his ear toward the graffiti-stained bathroom door. “Fiona?”
“I’m fine.”
But he can tell from her voice that she isn’t fine. He tries to open the door, but he can’t without the key. He just has to wait and listen to his sister struggling within until she finally swings the door open, her black hair a tousled mess.
“You fell on your ass, didn’t you?” Austin says.
“What? No.” She blows the stray strands from in front of her eyes. “I fell on my face.”
Austin looks over her shoulder at the grimy bathroom floor. “Gross.”
Fiona canes past him, rubbing her cheek against his shirt as she goes.
“Fiona! Gross!”
“Let’s go, slowpoke,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’d like to get where we’re going sometime before Christmas.”
Austin huffs as he follows her back to the car.
Dad now has an old map spread out over the dashboard as he checks it against the MapQuest directions. “Maybe they renumbered the route.”
“That’s not how routes work, Greg.” Mom shakes her head. “Why can’t you just go inside and ask for directions?”
“Because I know where we’re going,” Dad insists.
“Isn’t she waiting for us?”
“She can wait a little longer.”
“I just don’t understand how you didn’t get a phone number for the house.”
“I told you, the number she gave me was for her office. If you ever listened to me, you would. . .”
Dad’s eyes catch in the rearview mirror, realizing that Austin and Fiona are already back there.
“Oh, hey.” He puts on a big smile. “Ready to roll? We’ve only got—”
Bang-bang.
Austin jumps in his seat as the store manager thumps his fist against the window.
“Key!” the man shouts through the glass.
Austin turns to Fiona, who shrugs with an “Oops.”
Austin rolls down the window. “I’m really sorry, but—”
“Shithead.” The man spits tobacco to the pavement.
“Excuse me?” Mom’s voice boils with rage.
“Excuse me, sir?” Dad’s version is much softer. “Would you be able to point us in the direction of Nodland? It doesn’t seem to be on the map.”
“That’s because they don’t wanna be on a map. Take 38 North. Turn left on Exodus.”
“Thank you very much, sir.” Dad rolls up all the windows and starts the engine.
Mom stares at her husband in disbelief. “He calls your son a shithead and you call him sir?”
“You wanted directions, Dana.” He throws the shifter into drive. “I got them.”
Austin isn’t bothered by his dad not sticking up for him. He’s more bothered that he sees so much of himself in his cowardly father. He wonders if he’ll ever have the courage to speak up and tell Mateo how he really feels, or if his best friend will even want to talk to him again after the other night.
He wishes he could just call Mateo now and get it over with, but he’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see if he gets the cell phone he asked for.
In this family, Austin actually getting what he wants would be a true Christmas miracle.
“Looks like we’re here!” Dad announces, waking Fiona from another fatigue nap. Her cheek is pressed against the back window when her eyes flutter open to see that the lush green pines have given way to dead brown trunks, slicing through the empty landscape.
No life to be found, let alone a house.
“Where is here, exactly?” Mom asks from the passenger seat, checking the map again.
Dad tugs the wheel, turning down a narrow passage in the dry forest. He points to the rusty old mailbox as they pass. “Lynette said that would be our sign.”
Fiona yawns. “Just turn right at the tetanus trap.”
Nobody laughs. She swears her family is getting more humorless by the day.
The station wagon moves slowly along the unpaved driveway as Fiona leans forward, looking out the front windshield. The little stone house in the distance grows larger on their approach, and the trellis of flowers really makes it look like something out of a fairytale. But the flowers are all wilted, and kids always get eaten in fairytales.
A woman with more makeup than face stands on the small wooden porch, waving in a crisp beige pantsuit. Her hand keeps flapping as she bops down the steps toward the car before it even stops. “Welcome, welcome!”
Dad gets out to greet her. “I’m so sorry we’re late, Lynette.”
“No problem at all,” Lynette assures him. “I’m just glad you found the place alright. It’s a magical escape, wouldn’t you say? Tucked away from the modern world.”
Fiona pops the door open and steps out with her cane.
“Oh.” Lynette whispers, not softly enough. “I didn’t realize you had a handicapped child.”
“We prefer ‘handi-capable,’” Mom says.
“And I prefer ‘Fiona,’ but who cares what I think?” Fiona shrugs. The only thing more tiring than her disability are the endless shades of patronizing reactions to it. Especially when you’re stuck with something as misunderstood as juvenile idiopathic arthritis.
Lynette gives a plastic smile. “It’s just, there are quite a few stairs and we aren’t equipped for—”
Fiona pushes past Lynette and up the porch steps, making a big show of it. A hundred knives are stabbing into her knees and ankles, but she grits her teeth and bears the flareup, turning back to Lynette with a bitter grin. “How about a tour, Lynette?”
Even with all that makeup, the blush is visible on the woman’s cheeks. “Of course.”
Fiona is surprised to find the space inside is more cramped than it looks from the outside. The upstairs landing hovers over half of the living room, which would be pretty roomy without the giant Christmas tree in the corner, lit up with twinkling lights.
“Merry Christmas!” Lynette spreads her arms wide like a Price is Right girl.
Dad turns to the family with an expectant smile. “I made a special request for the tree, picked out the star topper myself.” He points to the sparkling silver star on top of the tree. “We’re going to make tomorrow the best Christmas ever! Opening presents by the roaring fire while the snow falls outside.”
“Oh.” Lynette makes a stink face. “I’m afraid the fireplace is purely decorative.”
“Oh.” Dad’s shoulders slump toward the empty stone hearth. “I just saw it in the photos and thought. . . well, that’s okay!”
He’s trying so hard, and Fiona really hopes it works. The last thing she wants is to spend her teenage years shuffling between two parents in two houses. The thought exhausts her achy knees as she looks up to the landing above, where a wooden railing runs the length of an open hallway.
“Don’t you just love an open concept?” Lynette asks no one in particular as she guides them upstairs.
Fiona puts her cane in her left hand and uses the banister on the right to balance as she takes it one step at a time. Even with the support, it hurts like hell; but she’s learned to compartmentalize the pain, box it up inside. The more she shows it, the more Are you okays come her way, and those only make her feel a whole lot less okay.
Mom’s throwing a worried expression at her right now, but Fiona just smiles to deflect.
“As advertised,” Lynette says, approaching the first door, “we have two bedrooms upstairs.”
“Two?” Austin asks.
“Don’t worry.” She opens the door to reveal bunk beds. “This one has two beds.”
“I call top bunk,” Fiona elbows her brother, who shakes his head in response. They used to have fun ribbing each other back and forth, but he’s been so damn moody lately. If that’s what puberty meant, Fiona was not looking forward to it.
“Check this out,” Lynette opens a door to reveal the double bathroom connecting both bedrooms. “Double sink, double vanity.”
Mom frowns at this. “We’re sharing a bathroom with the children?”
Dad clears his throat. “Uh, I don’t think the listing mentioned that they were connected?”
“Oh?” Lynette cocks her head. “I thought it would be a perk for most families.”
Their family was definitely not most families. Fiona didn’t realize that until she started spending time at her best friend Molly’s house. Molly’s parents were always laughing and touching each other. Asking “How are your parents doing, Fiona?” with a concerned furl of the brow. It was actually refreshing to have people more concerned about her dysfunctional family than they were with her dysfunctional body.
“So, Lynette,” Mom says, “how long have you been renting this place?”
Fiona recognizes that tone. It’s the tone Mom uses when she already suspects the answer and is going to gleefully rub it in Dad’s face.
“You’re actually my lucky first tenants,” Lynette responds.
Bingo. Fiona watches the expected glare shoot from her mother to her father, who looks away. That’ll be fodder for a fight later.
“This house used to belong to my brother, but he. . .” Lynette takes a strange pause as she leads them through the bathroom. “He passed away about ten years ago. The estate was just languishing in legal red tape until I finally inherited the place and fixed it up.”
“Fixed it up?” Mom asks, her eyes now searching the space for flaws. She’s good at finding those. “Was it in bad shape?”
“Update it, I should have said.” Lynette guides them into the master bedroom. “For example, putting fresh glass in the glorious skylight above the master bed!” She points up, and the whole family leans over the mattress to look up at. . . grey skies. “On a clear night, you can see all the stars!” Lynette promises.
On that anticlimactic note, they all head back downstairs.
“What is it that you do for a living, Mr. Werner?” Lynette asks.
“Oh, I’m a software engineer.”
“Well, I don’t know much about computers, but I hear there’s lots of money to be made in that industry.”
“There can be,” Mom interjects, “if you ask for what you’re worth.”
This is a constant argument between Fiona’s parents. Mom insisting that Dad demand a raise or else threaten to quit. Dad insisting he shouldn’t rock the boat because he’s easily replaceable, and they need the medical benefits for Fiona. Mom reminding him that even with health insurance, they’re drowning in out-of-pocket costs from all the therapies and treatments.
Try listening to that fight on repeat and not feeling like a burden.
“Speaking of renovations,” Lynette says as they land back in the living room. “The only part of the house that hasn’t been fix— uh, updated is the basement.” She points to a door. “My contractor was supposed to finish it up this week, but he flaked before the job was done. You just can’t trust anyone these days, can you? Anyway, who needs a basement when you’ve got this spacious kitchen!”
Lynette leads them into the kitchen and opens the old oven, which definitely looks like it’s cooked a child or two. “Fully refurbished appliances. I didn’t want to mess with the authentic cottage vibes, you know?”
“It’s very. . . shabby chic.” Mom nearly chokes on the words.
Mom hates shabby chic.
“That’s exactly what I was going for!” Lynette lights up. “Were you planning on cooking tonight, Mrs. Werner?”
Mom also hates assumed gender roles.
“Greg?” She turns to Dad. “Were you planning on cooking tonight?”
Dad blushes. “I was worried the groceries would go bad on the drive, so I was thinking we’d have dinner in town?” He has a bad habit of posing ideas like questions.
Guess who hates that?
“On Christmas Eve?” Mom asks.
“Well,” Lynette says, “there’s not much to speak of in Nodland, but I suppose the diner might still be open all night. If not, there’s an adorable little general store. Either way, I recommend stocking up on groceries and filling this vintage fridge.” Lynette opens the fridge door to reveal a six pack of beer with one can missing. “That contractor, I swear.”
“We don’t mind cleaning up after him,” Austin says, reaching for a can.
