Beyond the Cabin Read online

  “Hey, Josh. I’ll be around, I promise.” His arm, warm and familiar, stretched across my shoulder.

  I shrugged his arm off. “But today. Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cut loudly through the bright day, as anger flared in me. It felt good, like I was fighting back, taking a bit of control. How could he leave me?

  “I don’t know. I mean, I guess we were having a good time. And I didn’t want to ruin it.” Mal seemed to understand how lame that sounded and lapsed into silence.

  In the quiet moment, a tune from a movie soundtrack played right at the level of consciousness. It was like something from The Mission. High-toned wind instruments were accompanied by some kind of deep stringed instrument. The notes were quiet, but I remembered the emotional power of the scenes in the movie. Strangely, I noticed that it kind of matched the surrounding Pennsylvania forest.

  In the silence, I took a mental step back and tried to see the picture of me and Mal sitting on the stone bench. Rippling water. Geese honking quietly in the reflection of tall pine trees. Mal’s tall body sitting next to what I figured was my small, rounder form. Mal called me stout, but I knew the truth. I could almost see it as if I were watching us in a movie.

  “I mean,” Mal said, bringing me back. “It’s not like I won’t come and see you. And Aaron. You’re my brothers. And I’ll find a way to get you out. Both of you.” He shoved my right shoulder. “These idiots might not care about family, but I do.”

  “Idiots is right,” I said, nodding, relief cooling me a little. He’ll come back for me. It’ll be okay. Then why did I feel like life was ending? Like I would be all alone now? I had to convince myself to stop worrying. Miriam’s gonna be so mad.

  “Total whack-jobs,” Mal said.

  “Numbnuts,” I said.

  “Twits on a string.”

  I burst into laughter; it seemed to loosen something in my chest. I coughed. “What kind of string?” I asked, taking my normal part and waiting for the final punch line.

  “A jump rope. Dipped in tar. Burning.”

  This time the image didn’t make me laugh. The quiet music running in my head swelled into a dramatic crescendo then cut off. The image seemed perfect. I nodded, “Dipped in tar and burning. And they don’t know they have to get off.”

  “I’m getting off, Josh.”

  I turned to Mal. His voice sounded like stone.

  “But I’m not gonna leave you. I gotta make money, get my own place. And I’ll be back for you.”

  “Hey! What’s going on?” Mal and I both looked up the hill. Aaron rounded the side of the house nearest to the decrepit, stone outbuildings that sat near the woods at the top of the hill. He jogged down the hill. “What happened?”

  I heard Mal’s expulsion of breath. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I heard shouting.” Aaron’s eyes rested first on Mal and then on me. I watched him closely, wondering if my other half-brother would show any emotion here. His face, mostly in shadow, looked almost exactly like Miriam’s. “Seriously. What’s going on?”

  “Mal’s leaving,” I said, hoping for a big reaction.

  But Aaron must have forgotten what emotions were like. He spent too much time working on those computers. “Today?” Aaron turned to Mal again.

  “Yeah. I told Miriam this morning. That’s what you heard.”

  “When?”

  Mal glanced at his watch. “About thirty minutes. Hank’s coming.”

  Following their conversation was like watching a tennis game. Plus, I felt as if there was something, some kind of silent conversation, going on at the same time that my brothers talked.

  “Hank’s coming in thirty minutes?” Aaron asked. For a second, maybe less, I was sure I had seen some kind of reaction in Aaron’s face. Maybe in the chin, or around the eyes. But it was gone.

  Mal said, “Yeah.”

  “Where you going?” Aaron asked.

  “Gonna live in town with Hank for a bit. Get a job then get my own place. Try to get to Philly or Pittsburgh.”

  “Miriam’s mad?”

  “Majorly pissed.” Mal looked back at me, a grim smile on his face. “That lady has no idea. No clue. It’s like as soon as we popped out we became future money beggars. Not her sons anymore.”

  Aaron didn’t respond.

  “But I was telling Josh,” Mal met my eyes and grabbed me by the neck, pulling me roughly in for a quick choke-hold. I grinned and fought back, jabbing an elbow toward his ribs. “I’ll be back around.”

  Aaron nodded, pursing his lips. “Okay.” He stood still. I saw it again: Aaron’s eyes got tight and his square chin seemed to soften. But, like before, the moment passed quickly. Aaron shrugged and let out a breath. “Well. I gotta get back to it. Computer’s acting funny.”

  We watched Aaron turn and head back up the hill.

  “He’s kind of a weird one, isn’t he? Our brother.” Mal said.

  “Yeah. It’s like he doesn’t feel or something,” I said.

  “Right.” Mal looked over my right shoulder. “Yeah. But sometimes—you know. Just—there’s more going on there.”

  “What? More what? He’s a walking computer.”

  “Sure. Without the keyboard. But…” Mal turned his gaze to me. “You know what? Give him a break sometimes, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause he’s our brother, dummy. We’re all we’ve got.”

  “The three musketeers?” I asked.

  “The three sheltered, cult-raised, weirdo musketeers, sure.”

  * * *

  “Anyway. Hank says he has a buddy who might be able to get me a job at Dunkin’ Donuts.” I’d followed Mal up to our shared bedroom. Now he scooped his belongings from the top of his dresser and dumped them into one of the outer pockets of the black bag.

  “Donuts? Cool,” I said.

  “Yeah. I guess they have to throw away the ones they don’t sell by the end of the day. So the guys get to take as many as they want.”

  “Cool.” I needed a different word. Awesome?

  “Free donuts aren’t just cool, Josh. They’re wicked killer.” Mal tossed a smile over his shoulder at me. He mashed a shirt into the bag.

  “I wonder who’s gonna get your drawers,” I said. I kicked myself mentally. Stupid question. Not the right time.

  Mal stopped. He laughed. “I bequeath them to you. How ‘bout that?”

  “Yeah, for how long? Enos and Tabitha’s baby’ll be moving in here when he gets big enough. Then he’ll get the drawers.”

  “Yeah, but he’s with them in Dallas. Helping them get another branch going I guess.” Malachi rolled his eyes. “And that’s all this world needs, another branch of the Faith where freaks join up and then spend their lives begging for money on the streets of the city. And they think they’re making a difference.” Familiar anger tightened his features. I looked away as he took a deep breath. He shrugged like he was shaking off some frustration. “Anyway, until that little goober gets in here, they’re yours. If anyone has anything to say about that, tell them I’ll be around,” Mal said.

  “Right,” I said. It was still hard to believe that Tabitha, Miriam’s sister, and Enos had barely had another kid. They were old! And Luke, their other kid, was my age.

  “What?” Mal must have seen me shaking my head.

  “I just… Luke’s our cousin. Tabitha’s our aunt and that makes Enos our uncle."

  Mal pushed out his chin and raised a hand. "We're all family here," he said, adopting a weird accent.

  I snorted. "But we’re all strangers too. Living in the same house.”

  “And don’t forget the girls down the hall,” Mal said, grinning. “Four girls who are kind of like our sisters, but aren’t really. So if you think one’s cute, you could do something with her, but it would be totally weird.”

  “Mal! Come on! That’s wrong!”

  Mal was laughing now as he zipped up his bag. “Maybe so." He hefted the bag. "Well, I don’t know. Esther? She’s actu
ally pretty cute.”

  “Esther? Are you kidding? She’s the bossiest person in the world!”

  “Yeah, but she looks good doing it,” Mal said. “Hey bro, she’s seventeen. She’s got a great body. Blonde hair, green eyes. No blood relation… that we know of.”

  I burst out laughing. That was the thing. In my head I could easily admit that I'd noticed how Esther’s waist curved so nicely. But it was weird! We had all grown up together in the same house; the girls’ room was two doors down from the room we boys shared. I had known them my entire life. Every day, there they were.

  “Yeah, that we know of. I still don’t know who my father is.”

  Mal stood straight and rigid. “And that’s the biggest messed up thing about this whole stupid cult. These grown-ups get together, pop out kids, and forget them. How’s that doing anybody any good?” His jaw tightened. “You don’t know your dad. Mine’s long gone. And Aaron had to ask Miriam who his father was.” He swore. “What a joke.”

  “I know! And it’s Ezekiel! That guy’s an ass.” I had a thought. “We don’t even look like brothers.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mal said. “We are. You, me and Aaron. We’re brothers. Same mother, three different dads. But hey, half-brothers are still brothers.” Mal hefted a smaller bag and held it up. “Will you get this? Hank’s gonna be here any minute.”

  Trying to force away images of life without Mal, I followed him out the door and headed toward the stairs. I caught myself browsing movie soundtracks in my head and pushed the thoughts away. Not now. This wasn't a stupid movie.

  I followed Mal toward the stairs. But Mal turned suddenly, stopped on the landing and looked over the railing to the foyer and living room of the huge house. I took a spot to his left. After some silence, I looked up and noticed that Mal had wet eyes.

  “It’s not easy,” Mal said.

  “What?”

  “This, you know—leaving.”

  “Then don’t go yet. Wait for me.”

  “I can’t. I’m dying here. But…”

  “But what?”

  Mal turned to me and offered a goofy grin. “It’s kinda scary.”

  “What?” What could possibly be scary about leaving this dumb house? “What do you mean?”

  Mal stood there, the black canvas bag in one hand, slung over a shoulder. I stood watching him, wondering if he was going to answer. The smell of burnt toast still lingered in the air.

  “It’s gonna be different. Here I know what to expect: boring rules, same thing every day. Out there, though, I don’t really know,” Mal said, looking back over the rail at the living room, which was dimly lit by the light coming through the south-facing windows.

  “So different’s scary?” I looked over the rail, too, seeing the three drab, old couches that took up much of the living room space. Cat hair covered pretty much every surface of those couches. “Different from this is scary?”

  “Bro. Shut up,” Mal said, pushing me with his hip and shaking his head. He turned and headed down the creaking stairs; I followed.

  As I descended the stairs behind my brother, something rose in my chest and throat. My mouth filled with a sour, metallic taste. I took a deep breath and held it, trying to swallow the strange taste.

  Mal’s back, covered by a black t-shirt, rose gently then dropped with each step. Unbidden, another soundtrack—quiet piano joined by a violin—swelled in my mind. I didn't push it away. Is this the last time I’ll see you for a while? Your back? Is this what I should remember? I forced the morbid thought down but couldn’t take my eyes away. In the dim light I could see Mal’s clean-shaven neck and his neatly trimmed, blond hair. Got a hair-cut from Ruth. Getting ready for the big day. Why did I already feel so alone?

  I wished I could be mad at him. But I knew how much he hated the Faith. And honestly, maybe it would be good for him to not get so pissed off every day. Leaving might be the best thing for him.

  Sucked for me, though.

  “What’s up? You’re all quiet,” Mal said.

  “Nothing,” The bag I held bumped into the posts holding the railing up. "Just thinking.”

  “I’m gonna come around. I will.”

  “I know.”

  “Then stop sounding like you’re going to a funeral.”

  “I’m not!”

  “That’s better,” Mal said.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Mal continued to the front door. “You don’t want to say goodbye?” I asked. The moment was coming too fast.

  “To who?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Miriam?”

  “Hell no,” Mal said, turning to face me. “She… she doesn’t deserve another second of my time. Besides, I don’t think she even cares.”

  “Then why’d she get mad at you this morning?” I asked, knowing the answer. I knew it was cheesy to fall back on our routines, but it felt good.

  “You know!”

  I never got tired of the feeling that Mal could read my thoughts; that we were close enough to be able to have that bond.

  “No I don’t,” I said, making a dumb face at him.

  “Say it with me now,” Mal said, settling into the routine.

  We waited a beat, then said it together, “Control.”

  “She’s pissed off that she won’t have control over me anymore. Hell, she hasn’t had control over me for years,” Mal said. He bent down to scratch the head of the black cat rubbing itself along his legs. “I’ll see you later, Waffen.” He stayed there a moment, shaking his head. I heard him mutter, "A cat named Waffen. Unbelievable." He straightened, reaching for the doorknob.

  “Malachi!”

  We both turned at the voice. Joan, the only adult who seemed like she had a soul, was crossing from the dining area to the living room, her sneakered feet whispering on the thick grey carpet. She stopped, her small, slightly round body moving forward and backward with each deep breath. “Malachi. You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah,” Mal said.

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” Joan said.

  Mal shrugged, making a face. “Uh, what do you want me to say? I gotta get outta here.”

  “What will you do?” Joan asked.

  I stood there, feeling suddenly invisible and uncomfortable.

  “Get a job. Have a place to live that doesn’t have a hundred other people. You know, have some space to myself.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  As Mal answered, I glanced at Joan, who was so short that I was already an inch taller than her. “It’s been a long time coming,” Mal said.

  Silence seemed to spread from the foyer to the living room and beyond. I wondered at the quiet house. The adults who went to the city to get donations for the cult’s work during the week should have been around on a Saturday. Maybe they were hiding, shocked that Mal would defy Miriam. But the other kids should have been making noise. Saul seemed like he spent every Saturday in the living room plunking at his guitar. But he wasn’t around. I bet Miriam told someone to keep everyone away so there wasn’t a fuss. Geez.

  “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” Joan asked.

  “He’s coming back,” I said. At Joan’s surprised look, I said, “I mean, not for good. But he’s gonna come around.”

  Mal nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But I still get a hug?” Joan asked.

  Mal smiled and leaned down, wrapping his long arms around Joan’s small form. “Of course.”

  “Good,” Joan said, her voice muffled by Mal’s shoulder. “You have to take care, okay? Be careful.”

  “I know, Joan. I’m gonna be fine.”

  As Joan walked back toward the kitchen, Mal said, “I think she may be the only real human of the whole group of idiot adults.”

  I nodded my agreement and followed him onto the porch. I sometimes wondered why Joan was like that. Not that I minded. I knew I really shouldn't be into hugs or anything like that, but it was nice to have someone actually seem to care. She was easi
ly the nicest of the grown-ups.

  As Mal led the way down towards the driveway, the Faith’s other cat moseyed by, headed toward the stone outbuildings. Zara’s getting breakfast. I figured that the old buildings, off-limits to us kids, must seem like paradise for ignorant mice. But they were also like a buffet for a cat like Zara.

  Chewie, running back and forth on his zip-line that was fastened to two big trees, started barking. Three cats, two dogs and a bunch of geese in the pond. Not to mention all the people crammed in the house. Sometimes I felt like I lived in a zoo.

  The car that Chewie must have been hearing appeared. I hurried to catch up to Mal.

  “That’s Hank.” Mal pointed his chin at the small green car speeding up the drive.

  “Yeah.”

  “Bro. I have to do this.” The car pulled to a stop in front of us.

  “Yeah.” I felt like my thoughts were suddenly frozen. The violins and stuff that had been playing in my head faded. I stared at a rust spot on the hood of the little green car.

  “Josh.”

  I heard Mal's voice, but didn't really register what he said.

  “Josh!”

  “What?” I broke away from the sight of the rust spot. I smelled a combination of the old green car’s exhaust and the clean, sweet smell of the pine trees around the house. “What?”

  “I gotta go,” Mal said. He gestured toward the car with his chin while a guy as tall as Mal clambered out of the driver’s seat. The guy was smoking.

  “Hey Hank,” Mal called, then turned back to me.

  “Dude,” Hank said, tossing his head at me in greeting.

  “I gotta go,” Mal repeated.

  “Okay,” I tried to say goodbye, but my throat was too tight. I handed Mal the small bag I had been carrying and walked back toward the house.

  “Josh!”

  “What?” My brain still felt slow. I faced my brother. I wished he wasn't going.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back in.”

  “Bro. What are you doing?” Mal’s arms, now empty, spread wide.