The Well

9

Mother had lied to me. 

That was what remained when all was stripped away--an unflinching firmness,  seemingly inhuman in its solidity. I would never see Mother break, would never see her fold. She would always be stronger than me. 

You have to you have to you have to. 

I seethed, stung by her deception, hating the iron that held up her frame. For a brief moment, as I finished my indoor inspection, anger burned away my fear. My fists clenched as I looked into my empty room. 

Of course, Austin wasn't there. 

It was just like him to disappear, to make me worry, to be so goddamn stupid. 

As if I didn't worry about him enough. 

My feet carried me to the rocking chair on the porch. I sank into it, rocking with frenzied speed, eyes trained on the horizon as if Austin might manifest there. But I couldn't remain seated. I stood up, pacing back and forth across the porch. 

How many times a day did I warn him to be careful, to stay close to the house?

It was just like him to stay outside too long and get a sunburn. 

I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd tried to follow me to the well after all, only to be distracted by something on our path and lose his way. How long might he have wandered, alone, confused, his throat rocky with thirst, before I found him?

And where was he now? 

I stood still, inhaling deeply, vainly attempting to calm my heart. 

Austin did, in fact, often stay close to the house. There was only one other place where he regularly ventured, and only with me--Tim and Jackie's. 

My breath caught in my throat. This image was easy to picture now. He must have taken off at a full, breathless sprint, hoping to make it past the property line and around the bend in the road before I opened my eyes. 

Tim and Jackie's.

He had gone to Tim and Jackie's.

I took off running along the path that led to their house.

It was just like Austin to believe me fully, without space for doubt or suspicion, when I stated that everything was fine. It was just like Austin, grinning with his hasty smile, to think that going over to Tim and Jackie's would be the ultimate method of stumping me.

Normally, Jackie and Tim adored Austin. Whenever I brought him over, they saw him as my energetic, happy puppy, something I might carry in a backpack and pull out to show off to my friends. They indulged his games. Tim poked fun at his expense. When Austin buzzed a little too much, Jackie wrapped her up in her arms, pinning him with her blank gaze and settling him down into a chair. "How about you take a second," she'd say. And she'd look back at me with a smile that almost reached her eyes.

I could picture him easily, knocking at their front door, peering through their windows if there was no response. Perhaps he would tap against the glass, hoping to catch them unawares. If he spotted shadows moving indoors, he would stay and pester them, incapable of accepting their lack of answer.

God, I hoped there was no answer. Although I knew his face would fall and his arms would hang floppily at his sides, twisting back and forth in motions slower than those he was used to—that was what I wanted.

Disappointment was okay. Disappointment was good.

I thought once more of Tim's face as he'd gazed up at Austin—the way his cheeks had bloomed and boiled, the way his mouth had curled.