Silence and Repetition

I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. I had one job, to find something useful, food, clothing, clean water, but all I had found was a stupid, old, golden heart shaped locket that wouldn’t even open. I wasn’t even sure why it was still clutched in my hand, like a rosary, while I shuffled my way back home before the darkness set in and all the world would be quiet and black, save for the moon and sparsely lit candles. Our home was tucked away in a small field surround by sage brush and pine trees, an old ranger cabin in the middle of nowhere. As I approached my home I could see dark grey billowing smoke at a distance that seemed too close for comfort, someone had let their fire get out of control. I shoved the locket into my pocket before opening the door to home.

When I opened the door my mother was already there, tending to the wood burning stove we were very fortunate to have, although it never seemed like our home got any warmer, and the number of cracks in the walls amplified as night set. She had a pot simmering on top of the stove, so at least she had found something for us to eat, or she had found water and was boiling it so it would be safe for us to drink.

“I’m home" I said, trying to be quiet as I shut and latched our door, all three deadbolts and the 2x4 barricade for the door. I sat my backpack down by the door, took my coat off and threw it on my pack. I could feel the locket pressed against my leg in my front pocket. I was so worried to tell her that was all I had found.

“Welcome back, my dear” her voice all sugar and honey. She closed the door to the stove and came over to me and hugged me, which was very odd. I couldn’t remember the last time she hugged me or showed me physical affection. “I’m glad you came back, I was getting worried" she said as she let me go. “Did you find anything today?”

“I didn’t find anything useful,” I reached in my pocket and pulled out the locket and handed it to her. She inspected it and a small smile crept across her face.

“ I would’ve kept it too. We’re in luck because I found a whole cache of supplies so we don’t have to worry for a few days. I found food, clothes, and blankets. I even scavenged enough wood for a few nights.”

“How?” I asked and looked into her eyes. There was nothing there, it’s like her whole emotion had been wiped away, and I knew the next words from her mouth were going to be a lie.

“I got lucky" she stated as she turned back towards the stove. I walked into the living room that was now our bedroom and storage. I saw a hefty amount of canned food, half of them with no labels, a collection of jugs with water, there were three or four big blankets that smelt of campfire and sweat, beside the blankets was a decent looking duffle bag that was full of clothes when I opened it. We had been searching for weeks and had barely found enough to get us by, but here in one fell swoop it was like she had won the lottery.

“Kai, you need to come and eat,” my mother called, “it’s just a simple stew. I didn’t find a lot of meat in the cans I opened.” She came in a gave me a full bowl of the stew she had made, and I could see small chunks of potato, green beans, and long shreds of meat. It looked like the most delicious meal I had ever eaten. I couldn’t resist the smell and I lifted the bowl to my mouth and began shoveling the stew. It tasted better than it looked, and it wasn’t until my bowl was clean that I noticed a small loaf of bread that had been baked as well. I had never known my mother for a baker, I didn’t know how she would come across such commodities as yeast and flour, but the loaf looked as if it was made of gold.

“Come get another bowl and some bread. Its been far too long since we’ve eaten like this.” My mother extended the knife she was holding to me so I could slice our bread. I sliced both of us huge hunks of the bread. I handed her a slice and I found the spoon for the stew, as I ladled some out I saw a huge portion of meat in the bottom of the pot. I felt a little less hungry, why would she say there wasn’t a lot of meat in the stew, and thinking back to my first bowl, it had been the most protein I had had in months. I grabbed my half full bowl and went to sit by my mother on the tattered couch. She was slowly eating from her bowl and taking small bites from the bread.

“Why weren’t you upset that all I found was that locket?” I asked after eating a few bites of the stew. My mother sat back and lowered her spoon. She looked like she was picking out her words very carefully. When she finally did speak it was only a note higher than a whisper.

“Because you are still young, and I can remember being young and obsessed by pretty things, like jewelry. I can remember going out on a Friday to hang out with friends, days when the only thing I was worried about was my clothes and the makeup I always wore. When I would dread going to the grocery store because there’d be so many people, and so many options, and half the time I knew I was wasting my money because the food would go bad before I’d get a chance to eat it. But there I was, every week going to the store, and going out on Friday nights, and driving anywhere I wanted. I remember not being worried about where my next meal would come from, if I was going to have power or heat when I got home, or if it would matter if I just sat in front of an air conditioner on extremely hot days. I wasn’t upset because I can still remember who I was before everything happened. Before the world got turned upside down. Before I had to make choices about how we would survive, actually survive. Before I had to constantly plan. I remember all of it and maybe that’s my downfall.”

Not long after we ate, we went to our beds, her on the couch and me in a small number of blankets on the floor. She kissed the top of my head before turning over to go to sleep. I laid awake and watched the light from the moon enter our home from the cracks. Every inch had a small illumination of light cast upon it. The cans with no labels glinted like each was a dim lamp.

As I laid in my cocoon I tried to imagine my mother as a young woman, who put time into her appearance, putting on layers of makeup every day, making sure her clothes matched just so. I tried to imagine her going out to a bar with friends and lighting up the room. I tried to imagine her in a grocery store picking out food that I had only dreamed of, like entire chocolate bars or exotic fruits like pineapple. And then I tried to imagine how she felt when she found out she was pregnant with me, just weeks before the power ran out, and people started to lose their minds. I imagined how she fought to keep me safe, a small thing, because I had stayed small, and how she didn’t decide to eat me or leave me to the others. I thought about how she was still trying to protect me.

Then, I thought about the fire I had seen earlier, it had looked close to our home. The blankets smelled of smoke, and the food we ate was plentiful with meat. I thought about the lengths my mother had already gone through, year after year and day by day, to keep both of us safe, and decently healthy. And I thought about asking, asking where all the food had come from, why the blankets smelled of smoke, when had she gotten back, how she got everything back by herself, and what she had done. A smaller thought then crept into my head.

Why had I only found the locket? Now that I knew what my mother had done, what she had been doing, why did it matter that I found it laying in the dirt? What if it had belonged to someone recently? What if it had been their only memory about the world before? What if it held a picture of someone’s lost love, or a small child? What if I had found the only thing grounding them to the world? What did that make me?

I reached onto the side table and grabbed the locket, outlined it’s grooves with my finger. It was small, and seemed insignificant. I yanked on the latch one good time and the two sides of the heart separated and on one side was a small cutout of a happy woman, and on the other side was a family portrait , the same woman, a man much taller than her, and cradled between them a small baby. A family that looked like they had no troubles. Were any of them still alive? Did it matter? Was this locket just supposed to erode over time?

I felt as if I was being watched, and when I looked up my mother’s eyes were wide as she stared at me and the locket. Her face was straight and sullen, she too was lost in thought. Such a gift and a curse to be able to do nothing but think until you’re able to shut that switch off. I wanted so badly to ask her what really happened, but I knew I wouldn’t get straight forward answers, there was no such thing anymore. Now there was only repetition and silence.

When morning finally came, I found clothes in the duffle that just barely fit me. I grabbed my pack and my coat, before I opened the door my mother called to me, “you don’t have to go out there today if you don’t want to. We have enough here so we can relax for a few days.”

“I want to go,” I stated as I opened the door and walked out of it.

The smoke from yesterday was now a soft white so the fire had died. I headed in that direction. After walking for a few miles, the smoke had engulfed me, and I came upon a small campsite where the tent had been burned to nothing but hard plastic over small pipe. I peeked into what was left of the tent and saw a disintegrated sleeping bag, and a few articles of clothes. I walked toward the back side of the tent and I noticed where part of the brush had been folded down. I walked a few steps into the brush until I saw the two bodies and the pools and splatter of blood. Both of them were laying face down in the dirt, one much bigger than the other. I turned and walked back to the campsite, my legs feeling like needles with every step I took. I sat down in front of the smoldering tent and just stared.Start writing...