The Well

7

Had it really been that long since I'd joined Austin outside? Since the skull?

I hungered for those missed moments now, watching him run, arms outstretched, smile wide and elastic. Why had I avoided this for so long? How many laughs had I missed? 

It had been freeing to spend yesterday outdoors with him. His easy brightness was infectious, and the long shadow of the well seemed farther away. I didn't hesitate at all, this morning, when he asked me if I wanted to spend another day outside. 

I was also avoiding Mother. Or maybe she was avoiding me. Apart from yesterday's dinner, which was quiet and quick--Austin vacuumed his beans in a few mouthfuls--she remained in her room, intermittently humming various songs to herself. 

She was still in her room this morning. 

Austin's skin was red, but the flesh hadn't started to peel. He said there was no pain. 

Now he called toward me, wanted to start a game of tag.

"Okay, Auz. You're It first, though. I get a ten second head start."

I wouldn't bring him to the well. I would follow him on whatever adventure his heart desired. I would filter my gaze with the brightness that coated his imagination. And if he asked me questions I didn't want to answer—well, I would give him answers that fit within the confines of his shiny world. That could be enough. I could hold onto him as he was, now, brows furrowed in concentration, body paused midstride, eyes piercing and focused—happy. I could keep things simple. I could drink him in like fresh, clear water, and never tire.

"Three... two... one!" He charged toward me. I'd made things easy for him, had stood in place while he counted. I ran just a little bit slower than my legs allowed. Feign-tripped after taking off into a sprint, landing in a heap. His sweaty palm grazed my back. Then he was in motion. Then he was running.

I gathered myself, bouncing to my feet. I was faster than him, that was a given, but he had more energy. At first, I caught up to him easily, tapping him over the shoulder with a smile, slowing my steps as I moved away. But the stubborn sun beat on, and my heart never got the chance to slow, my lungs never got the chance to cool before he was off again, again, faster than I could keep up. Soon I didn't have to pretend. I would lope up to him on rubbery legs, exchanging the It, and manage a stumbling shuffle away. Soon I wondered if he was making things easy for me when he tapped me on the shoulder and only took two giggle-filled steps back. Soon his laughter slowed because my breaths did not. That's when I told him I was tired.

I went inside for water while Austin sat on the rocking chair on the porch with his hands shielding his eyes so he could find shapes in the clouds. I was certain he would tell me all about what he found when I came out.

She must have heard the front door hinges creak, must have known by my steps that it was me.

"Cameron," Mother called out, her voice surprisingly clear.

My throat complained, but I turned on my heel and went back out.

"I found a squirrel," Austin said, pointing at a formless blob in the blue mass above us. I stared at it for a moment too long, attempting to understand. The sun seared my eyes; I blinked back tears as I looked down, but it only multiplied the bright spots dotting my vision.

"That's nice, Auz. Why don't we play hide and seek? I'll give you a head start." I placed my hands over my eyes, enjoying the brief, blessed shadow from the lurid sun. "I won't look. Thirty second head start."

"Okay," he said.

I could feel Mother watching us from the living room window. 

I gave him a full minute, to make things easier. I kept my eyes covered the whole time, loudly proclaiming "Ready or not, here I come," as I stood up from the rocking chair. I had heard the brief patter of his feet moving off into the distance as I'd counted, but now there was only silence.

My gaze scanned the horizon. There was the dusty path that led to the road, the scarred earth on both sides of it where, long ago, corn had craned its neck to the sky. I didn't expect him to go far, so I took my time, scraping my feet along the ground to make my steps the more audible. I started off by walking around the house, pausing to examine the few dried hunks of bushes that framed it. Nothing. I moved toward the shed in the backyard, confident I'd find him holed up inside. The door creaked heavily as I pulled it open, but no Austin inside—just a rusty, abandoned lawnmower and leaf rake.

I checked the wheelbarrow beside the shed, picturing him curled up inside, attempting to stifle his giggles as he heard my approaching footsteps. 

Nothing.

I looked around the backyard, at the dead dusty ground that had once been grass, squinting,  finding nothing on either side of our fence. 

I finished my loop around the house and ended up back on the porch. A subtle breeze set the rocking chair in motion, only emphasizing its emptiness.