Road to Arcadia: the Path East

Chapter Thirty-nine: Come to a Head

"Kai," Sara drawled in a way he couldn't yet distinguish as whining or warning.

"What?" he shot back. "You guys talked it over, right?"

They were both avoiding the gaze of their mother.

"We did," Sara agreed, "but you could've brought it up a little--I don't know--gentler than that?"

"Gentler? We don't have time to sugarcoat things, Sara, the clock is ticking."

Their mother held a threatening hand in between them, the same one she used to stop their fights as children.

The tried and true method silenced them both. They redirected their attention toward Lucine Gilling.

"We did," she started, voice quiet but steady. "Sara and I spoke last night. That's why we wanted to sit down and talk together."

He didn't want to pretend like he knew where this was going. He didn't even want to listen to his gut feelings. His only saving grace was the ability to listen without speaking. "Yeah?"

She sat at the edge of the couch, the closest she could get to him without standing. Her upper body folded over with elbows on her knees and hands stretched out searching for his.

He offered them up to her like olive branches.

"Sweetheart," she took his hands in the warm, weathered skin of hers. Her eyes bore directly into his, burning with absolute sincerity. "I am so, so proud you were able to find what you were looking for. And I'm even happier that you came back to see us. We were so worried about you. We--I know you've got a smart, smart head on those shoulders, but there was no way for us to know how you were doing. It's not as easy as it was when I was growing up. You can't just pick up a phone and call home to let us know you're okay. Any word we did get only told us how you were doing when you sent it, not how you were when we received it. We didn't know how you'd return home to us, if you'd even return at all. But you found it, you did what you sought out to do."

The heat of her honesty burned away his defenses--his sarcasm, his impassive composure. "I want you to come with me, Mom."

She offered him a smile. A warm, strained smile that weighed heavy on the lines in her face. "Oh, my dear. I know you say that with the best intentions, but I don't think it's that easy."

He squeezed her hand back, not sure if he was offering reassurance or seeking it. "It's okay, Mom. It's okay. You can leave. You don't ever have to come back. You can bring the pictures of Dad and Memay's plates. You can leave the bills and the flooded basement. Everything else we can get for you. You don't have to be hungry because the wrong number of people showed up for dinner again. You don't have to work that awful fucking warehouse job. I'll make sure you're taken care of, you and Sara and baby Edan. If it makes you feel any better, I'll let you invite Uncle Gunk along, too."

She shook her head, finally breaking eye contact to look at the room around them. "I can't leave this house. I can't leave this neighborhood. This is home."

"A house is a house, that doesn't make it home. It's a special place--I know, Mom, I understand--but you have to realize--the next time the ocean rises there is nowhere else for the water to go. This place is not safe."

"It's gotten us this far," she defended, voice full of amber optimism.

He was swallowing back frustration now. "You never think it's going to happen to you until it does. You should know that better than anyone. Please, Mom, think about it."

"I have been," she replied in earnest. "I have really, truly, thought about it."

He had to bite his tongue before spitting his disbelief back at her. He broke his twigs out of her hands and turned to his sister. "Come on, Sara. You know what I'm talking about, right?"