The next morning, the left side of Mama’s face was swollen and purple; one eye was blackening. She sat alone at the table, a cup of coffee in front of her. “What were you thinking? He saw you leave and followed your tire tracks in the mud.”
Leni sat down at the table, ashamed of herself. “I wasn’t thinking.” “Hormones. I told you they were wicked dangerous.” Mama leaned
forward. “Here’s the thing, baby girl. You are on thin ice. You know it. I know it. You need to stay away from this boy or something bad is going to happen.”
“He kissed me.” He wants me to sneak out to meet him tonight.
Mama sat there a long time. Quiet. “Well. One kiss can change a girl’s world. Don’t I know that? But you’re not an ordinary girl in the suburbs with a Mr. Cleaver dad. Choices have consequences, Leni. Not just for you, either. For your boy. For me.” She touched her bruised cheekbone, wincing. “You need to stay away from him.”
* * *
MEET ME. Midnight.
All day, Leni thought about it. At school, every time she looked at Matthew, she knew what he was thinking.
“Please” was the last thing he said to her.
She’d said no and meant it, but when she got home and started on her long list of chores, she found herself waiting impatiently for the sun to set.
Time was not something she usually paid much attention to. On the homestead, the bigger picture mattered—the darkening of the sky, the ebbing of the tide, the snow hares changing color, the birds returning or flying south. That was how they marked the passage of time, in growing seasons and salmon runs, and the first snowfall. On school days, she took notice of the clock, but in a lackadaisical way. No one much cared if you got to school on time, not in the winter when some days it was so cold the trucks wouldn’t start, and not in the spring and fall when there were so many chores to do.
But now time commanded her attention. Down in the living room, Mama and Dad were cuddled together on the couch, talking quietly. Dad kept touching Mama’s bruised face and murmuring apologies, telling her how much he loved her.
At just past ten P.M., she heard Dad say, “Well, Cora, I am about to drop,” and Mama answered, “Me, too.”
Her parents turned off the generator and fed the fire one last time. Then Leni heard the rattle of the beaded curtain being pushed aside as they went into their room.
Then, quiet.
She lay there, counting whatever she could: her breaths, her heartbeats.
She willed time to pass even as its passage frightened her.
She imagined different scenarios—going to meet Matthew, staying in bed, not getting caught, getting caught.
She told herself repeatedly that she was not waiting for midnight, that she wasn’t stupid and reckless enough to sneak out.
Midnight came. She heard the last little click of the hand on her clock.
She heard a birdcall through her window, a little trill of sound that wasn’t quite real.
Matthew.
She climbed out of bed and dressed warmly.
Every creak of the ladder terrified her, made her freeze in place. Every footstep on the floor did the same thing, so that it took her forever to reach the door. She stepped into her rubber boots and slipped into a down vest.
Holding her breath, she unclicked the lock, slid the bar latch, and opened the door.
Night air rushed in to greet her.
She could see Matthew standing on the crest of the hill above the beach, his outline against a pink and amethyst sky.
Leni closed the door and ran to him. He took her hand and together they ran through the grassy, wet yard, slipped over the rise, and down the stairs to the beach, where Matthew had laid out a blanket and set big rocks on each of the four corners.
She lay down. He did the same. Leni felt the warmth of his body along hers and it made her feel safe even with all the risk they were taking. Normal kids would probably be talking nonstop, or laughing. Something. Maybe drinking beer or smoking pot or making out, but Leni and Matthew both knew they weren’t ordinary kids for whom sneaking out was expected. The crazy wildness of her father’s anger hung in the air between them.
She could hear the sea washing toward them and the spruce trees creaking in the murmur of a spring breeze. A pale ambient light shone on everything, illuminated the lavender night sky. Matthew pointed out constellations, told her their stories.
The world around them felt different, magical, a place of infinite possibility instead of hidden dangers.
He turned onto his side. They were nose to nose now; she could feel his breathing on her face, feel a strand of his hair across her cheek.
“I talked to Ms. Rhodes,” he said. “She said you could still get into U of
A. Think of it, Len. We could be together, away from all of this.” “It’s expensive.”
“They have scholarships and low-interest loans. We could do it. Totally.” Leni dared—just for a second—to imagine it. A life. Her life. “I could apply,” she said, but even as she heard her dream given voice, she thought of the price. Mama would be the one to pay it. How could Leni live with
that?
But was she supposed to be trapped forever by her mother’s choice and her father’s rage?
He slipped a necklace around her throat, fumbled to clasp it in the dark. “I carved it,” he said.
She felt it, a heart made of bone, hanging on a metal chain as thin as cobweb.
“Come to college with me, Len,” he said.
She touched his face, felt how different his skin was from hers, rougher, whiskery here and there.
He pressed his body to hers, hip to hip. They kissed; she felt his breathing turn ragged.
She hadn’t known until now how love could erupt into existence like the big bang theory and change everything in you and everything in the world. She believed in Matthew suddenly, in the possibility of him, of them. The way she believed in gravity or that the earth was round. It was crazy. Crazy. When he kissed her, she glimpsed a whole new world, a new Leni.
She drew back. The depth of this new feeling was terrifying. Real love grew slowly, didn’t it? It couldn’t be this fast, like a crashing together of planets.
Yearning. She knew what it felt like now. Yearning. An old word, from Jane Eyre’s world, and as new to Leni as this second.
“Leni! Leni!”
Her father’s voice. Yelling.
Leni jackknifed up. Oh, God. “Stay here.” She scrambled up and ran for the weathered steps. She rushed up their zigzagged path, her down vest flapping open, her boots clomping on the chicken-wire-covered steps. “Here I am, Dad,” she yelled, out of breath, waving her arms.
“Thank God,” he said. “I got up to take a leak and saw that your boots were gone.”
Boots. That was her mistake. Such a small thing.
She pointed skyward. Did he notice how hard she was breathing? Could he hear the thud of her heart? “Look at the sky. It’s so beautiful.”
“Ah.”
She stood beside him, trying to calm down. He put an arm around her shoulders. She felt claimed by the hold. “Summer is magical, isn’t it?”
The grassy hillside hid the beach from view, thank God. Leni couldn’t see the curl of pebbled stone and crushed shells, or the blanket Matthew had carried over. Nor could she see Matthew. He was well below the crest of the hill between the cabin and the beach.
She clasped the bone heart around her neck, felt its sharp point burrow into her palm.
“Don’t do that again, Red. You know better. The bears are dangerous this time of year. I almost grabbed my gun and came looking for you.”
PERSONAL STATEMENT
by Lenora Allbright
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
If you knew me, you wouldn’t be surprised at all that I start my college essay off with a quote from Tolkien. Books are the mile markers of my life. Some people have family photos or home movies to record their past. I’ve got books. Characters. For as long as I can remember, books have been my safe place. I read about places I can barely imagine and lose myself in journeys to foreign lands to save girls who didn’t know they were really princesses.
Only recently have I learned why I needed those faraway worlds.
I was taught by my father to be afraid of the world, and some of the lessons stuck. I read about Patty Hearst and the Zodiac Killer and the massacre at the Munich Olympics and Charles Manson, and I knew the world was a terrifying place. He said it all of the time, reminded me that mountains could blow up and kill people in their sleep. Governments were corrupt. A flu could come out of nowhere and kill millions. A nuclear bomb could fall at any second, obliterating everything.
I learned to shoot the head off of a paper target while on the run. I have a bug-out bag full of survival supplies by my front door. I can start a fire with flint and put a gun together blindfolded. I know how
to adjust a gas mask for the perfect fit. I have grown up preparing for a war or anarchy or worldwide tragedy.
But none of it is true. Or it’s true but not the truth, which is the kind of distinction adults make.
My parents left Washington State when I was thirteen. We came to Alaska and forged a subsistence life in the bush. I love it. I do. I love the harsh, uncompromising beauty of Alaska. I love the women most of all, women like my neighbor, Large Marge, who used to be a lawyer and now runs a grocery store. I love how tough she is and how compassionate. I love how my mom, who is as fragile as a fern frond, has still managed to survive out here in a climate designed to destroy her.
I love all of it, and I love this state that has given me a place to belong, a home, but it’s time for me to leave the homestead and make my own way, to learn about the real world.
That’s why I want to go to college.
* * *
IN THE DAYS AFTER that night on the beach, Leni became a thief, invisible when she wanted to be. It was an illusion she’d practiced all of her life, and now, as she became a stealer of time, it served her well.
She also became a liar. Straight-faced, even smiling, she lied to her father to steal the time she needed. There was a test to be taken early—at least an hour—a field trip that would keep her at school late. A research project that required her to take the skiff to the library in Seldovia. She met Matthew in the woods, in the shadowy stacks at Large Marge’s store, or in the abandoned cannery. In class, they were always touching under the desk. They celebrated his birthday together after school, sitting on the dock behind an aging metal boat.
It was wonderful, exhilarating. She learned things no book had ever taught her—how falling in love felt like an adventure, how her body seemed to change at his touch, the way her armpits ached after an hour of holding him tightly, how her lips puffed and chapped from his kisses, and how his rough beard-growth could burn her skin.
Stolen time became the engine that powered her world; on weekends, when hours without Matthew stretched out before her, she felt an almost unbearable need to leave the homestead, run to him, find a way to steal just ten more minutes.
The specter of school’s end cast a long shadow. Today, when Leni slid into her desk at school, she looked at Matthew and almost started to cry.
He reached across the desk, took her hand in his. “Are you okay?”
Leni couldn’t help thinking how small they were in this big dangerous world, just kids who wanted to be in love.
Ms. Rhodes clapped her hands at the front of the room, demanded attention. “There’s only a week of school left, and I thought it would be a good day for a boat ride and a hike. So, everyone, grab your coats and let’s go.”
Ms. Rhodes herded her chattering charges out of the classroom and through town and down to the docks. Everyone boarded Ms. Rhodes’s aluminum fishing boat.
They motored out into the bay and sped up, bumping across the waves, water splashing at their sides. The teacher guided the boat up the waters of the fjord, mountains all around them, down one stretch of water and up another, until they stopped seeing any cabins or boats at all. Here the water was aquamarine. Leni could see a sow and two black cubs walking along an isolated shore.
Ms. Rhodes pulled up to a dock in a narrow cove. Matthew jumped onto the weathered dock and tied the boat down.
“Matthew’s grandparents homesteaded this land in ’32,” Ms. Rhodes said. “It was their first family homestead. Who wants to see a pirate cave?”
Pandemonium.
Ms. Rhodes led the younger kids up the beach, marching through the heavy sand, stepping over huge pieces of driftwood.
When they rounded the corner of the bay and disappeared, Matthew took Leni by the hand. “Come on,” he said at last. “I’ll show you something cool.”
He led her upland, into knee-deep grass that ended at a sparse forest of stunted trees.
“Shhh,” he said, pressing a finger to his lips.
After that Leni noticed every twig that broke beneath her and every whisper of the wind. Occasionally a bush plane puttered overhead. At a wall of greenery, bushes grown to Alaskan size from all the water that ran down from the mountains, he showed her a path she wouldn’t have seen on her own. They ducked into it, walked hunched over in the cool shadows.
A small seam of light drew them forward. Leni’s eyes adjusted slowly.
A vista opened up in the break between the bushes: marshland, as far as the eye could see. Tall, waving green grass through which meandered a lazy, motionless river. Mountains were tucked in close, arms drawn protectively around the marshes.
Leni counted fifteen huge brown bears in the marshes, munching on the grass, pawing for fish in the stagnant water. They were great, shaggy creatures—called grizzly bears by most of the world—with giant heads. They moved in a shambling way, as if their bones were held together with rubber bands. Mama bears kept their cubs close and away from the males.
Leni watched the majestic animals move through the tall grass. “Wow.” A bush plane banked overhead, began its descent.
“My grandpa took me here when I was just a kid,” Matthew whispered. “I remember telling him he was crazy to homestead land so close to the bears, and he said, It’s Alaska, as if that were the only answer that mattered. My grandparents relied on their dogs to run off the bears if they came too close. The government created a national refuge around us.”
“Only here,” Leni said with a laugh. She leaned against Matthew. Only here.
God, she loved this place; she loved Alaska’s wild ferocity, its majestic beauty. Even more than the land, she loved the people to whom it spoke. She hadn’t realized until just this moment how deep her love for Alaska ran.
“Matthew! Leni!”
They heard Ms. Rhodes yelling for them.
They ducked back through the scrub brush and came out on the beach. Ms. Rhodes was there, with the younger girls gathered around her. Off to her left, a float plane was pulled up onto the beach. “Hurry!” Ms. Rhodes
said, waving her hand. “Marthe, Agnes, get in the plane. We have to get back to Kaneq. Mad Earl has had a heart attack.”
* * *
Mad Earl died.
Leni couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Yesterday, the old man had been alive, vibrant, drinking moonshine, telling stories. The compound had been a busy place, a hive of activity: chain saws whirring, steel being fired into blades over open flames, axes chopping wood, dogs barking. Without him, it fell into quiet.
Leni didn’t cry for Mad Earl. She wasn’t that much of a hypocrite, but she wanted to weep for the loss she saw in the faces around her. For Thelma and Ted and Moppet and Clyde and the rest of the people who lived at the compound; the blank space left by Mad Earl would hurt for a long time.
Now they were all out in the bay, near the boat launch below the Russian church.
Leni sat in the dented aluminum canoe that her father had salvaged, with Mama in front of her. Dad was behind Leni, keeping them steady in the water.
There were boats all around them, floating in the calm of this bright day. They had gathered for their version of a funeral. It was almost summer; you could feel it in the sun’s heat. Hundreds of snow geese had returned to the head of the bay. The craggy shoreline, empty and slicked with ice all winter, now bore all manner of life. On a rock in the middle of the water, a green and black tower of stone that rose up from the deep, sea lions crowded over one another. Seagulls flew above them in lazy white arcs, yapping like terriers. She saw nesting gulls and diving cormorants. Seals, with black or silver cocker spaniel faces, poked their noses up from the water alongside otters who lay lazily on their backs, cracking clams in quick-moving paws.
Not far away, Matthew sat in a shiny aluminum skiff with his father. Every time Matthew looked at Leni, she looked away, afraid to reveal her feelings for him in such a public place.
“My daddy loved this place,” Thelma was saying, her words swaying in time to the music made by her oar in the water. “He will be missed.”
Leni watched Thelma pour a stream of ashes from a cardboard box. They floated for a moment, fanned out, creating a murky stain, then slowly sank.
Silence fell.
Most of Kaneq was out here, or so it seemed. The Harlans, Tom and Matthew Walker; Large Marge; Natalie; Calhoun Malvey and his new wife; Tica Rhodes and her husband; and all the merchants. There was even a bunch of old-timers, men who lived so far off the grid and so deep in the bush they were hardly ever seen. They had few teeth and lots of stringy hair and hollowed-out cheeks. Several had dogs in their boats. Crazy Pete and Matilda stood on the shore, side by side.
One by one the boats floated back to shore, were beached. Mr. Walker carried Thelma’s canoe up the beach and tossed it into the back of a rusted pickup.
People instinctively looked to Mr. Walker to say something more, to bring them all together. They gathered close to him.
“I’ll tell you what, Thelma,” Mr. Walker said. “Why don’t you all come over to my place? I’ll throw some salmon on the fire and get out a case of cold beer. We can give Earl a send-off he’d love.”
“The big man, offering to host the wake for a man he looked down on,” Dad said. “We don’t need your charity, Tom. We will say goodbye in our own way.”
Leni wasn’t the only one who flinched at the stridency of her father’s voice. She saw shock on the faces around her.
“Ernt,” Mama said. “Not now.”
“Now is the perfect time. We are saying goodbye to a man who came up here because he wanted a simpler way of life. The last thing he’d want us to do is celebrate by drinking with the man who wants to turn Kaneq into Los Angeles.”
Dad seemed to grow while he stood there, fueled by rage and animosity. He moved forward, went to Thelma, who looked as broken as a used Popsicle stick, her hair dirty, her shoulders slumped, her eyes watery.
Dad squeezed Thelma’s shoulder. She flinched, looked frightened. “I’ll take Earl’s place. You don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure we stay ready for
anything. I’ll teach Moppet—”
“You’ll teach my daughter what?” Thelma asked in an unsteady voice. “The way you teach your wife? You think we haven’t seen the way you treat her?”
Mama froze, a flush colored her cheeks.
“We’re done with you,” Thelma said, her voice strengthening. “You scare the kids, especially when you’re drinking. My dad put up with you because of what you did for my brother, and I’m grateful for that, too, but there’s something wrong with you. I don’t want to rig the outside of our land with explosives, for God’s sake, and no eight-year-old needs to put on a gas mask at two A.M. and get to the gate with her bug-out bag. My dad did things one way. I’m doing them another.” She drew in a deep breath. Her eyes glittered with tears, but Leni saw relief, too. How long had Thelma wanted to say all this? “And now I am taking my dad’s old friends to Tom’s place to celebrate his life. We’ve known the Walkers forever. We were all friends, a community, before you showed up. If you can come and be civil, come. If you just want to tear this town apart, stay home.”
Leni saw the way people backed away from Dad. Even the bushy- bearded off-the-gridders took a step back.
Thelma looked at Mama. “Come with us, Cora.” “What? But—” Mama shook her head.
“My wife stays with me,” Dad said.
There was a long moment. No one moved or spoke. Then, slowly, the Harlans began to walk away.
Dad looked around, saw how easily they’d culled him from the herd.
Leni watched their friends and neighbors get into their vehicles and drive away, boats thumping along behind them on trailers or in pickup beds. Matthew gave Leni a long, sad look and finally turned away.
When they were alone, just the three of them, Leni glanced at Mama, who looked as worried and scared as Leni felt. Neither had any doubt: this would push him over the edge.
Dad stood still, eyes blazing with hatred, staring down the empty road. “Ernt,” Mama said.
“Shut up,” he hissed. “I’m thinking.”
After that and all the way home, he said nothing, which should have been better than yelling, but it wasn’t. Yelling was like a bomb in the corner: you saw it, watched the fuse burn, and you knew when it would explode and you needed to run for cover. Not speaking was a killer somewhere in your house with a gun when you were sleeping.
Inside the cabin, he paced and paced. He muttered to himself, shook his head as if he were hearing something he didn’t like.
Leni and Mama stayed out of his way.
At suppertime, Mama put some leftover moose stew on the stove to heat up, but the rich aroma did nothing to ease the tension.
When Mama put dinner on the table, Dad stopped suddenly, looked up; the light in his eyes was scary. Muttering something about ingratitude and bitches with bad attitudes and pricks who thought they owned the world, he stormed out of the house.
“We should lock him out,” Leni said.
“And let him break a window or tear a wall away to get in?” Outside, they heard a chain saw whir to life.
“We could run away,” Leni said.
Mama gave her a wan smile. “Sure. Yeah. He won’t come after us.”
They knew, both of them, that Leni might (might) be able to get away and have a life. Not Mama. He would track her down wherever she went.
They ate dinner in silence, each watching the door carefully, listening for an early warning sign of trouble.
Then the door cracked open against the wall. Dad stood there, crazy- eyed, hair covered in sawdust, holding a hatchet.
Mama lurched to her feet, backed away. He swept in, muttering, yanked Mama into him, drew her outside, and dragged her down the driveway. Leni ran behind them. She heard Mama talking to him in that soothing voice of hers.
He pulled Mama toward a pair of skinned logs that created a giant barricade at the end of their driveway.
“I can build a wall. Put spikes on the top, maybe razor wire. Keep us safe inside. We don’t need the g-damn compound. Screw the Harlans.”
“B-but Ernt … we can’t live—”
“Think of it,” he said, pulling her close, a hatchet hanging from one hand. “Nothing to fear from the outside world anymore. We will be safe inside. Just us. That son of a bitch can turn Kaneq into Detroit and we won’t care. I’ll protect you, Cora. From all of them. That’s how much I love you.” Leni stared in horror at the logs, imagining it: this thumbprint piece of land walled off at the joint, cut off from the bit of civilization that would
now be Out There.
There was no one who would stop her dad from building a wall or shutting them away, no police who would protect them or come in an emergency.
And once he finished it, bolted the gate shut, would Leni—or Mama— ever get out?
Leni glanced at her parents: two thin figures, angled together, touching with lips and fingers, murmuring about love, Mama trying to keep him calm, Dad trying to keep her close. They would always be the way they’d been, nothing would ever change.
In the naïveté of youth, her parents had seemed like towering presences, omnipotent and all-knowing. But they weren’t that; they were just two broken people.
She could leave them. She could break free and go her own way. It would be frightening, but it couldn’t be worse than staying, watching this toxic dance of theirs, letting their world become her world until there was nothing left of her at all, until she was as small as a comma.
