S. Bodeen - The Compound

She spoke fast, probably figuring I’d let her go as soon as she told me everything. “It was that one for kids that shows how everything is made. It tells how things work and I learned about locks and figured it out.”

I let her go and stepped back, leaning against the wall. I lowered my voice. “So what other locks have you picked down here?”

She stuck out her tongue as she skipped backward, away from me. “I’m not telling you!” And she ran off down the hall.

I went back in the kitchen. “She’s such a little freak.”

Mom shook a finger at me. “You shouldn’t say that about her. And I think she’s better now that she moved in…” She trailed off, like she didn’t mean to say the words.

“Moved in where?”

“The yellow room.”

“Mom! How could you let her do that?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone. And she spends so much time in there, anyway. I didn’t see any harm.”

“Whatever. I just miss everyone being normal.” Then I smiled and tried to make light. “Actually I miss a lot of things.”

Mom sighed. “I miss…,” she hesitated, her eyes on the wilting lettuce. “I would give anything for a huge, whole milk, four-pump latte right now, with loads of caramel sauce.” She shrugged and went back to the salad.

I watched her for a bit. Her shoulders seemed slumped and her movements were mechanical, almost robotic.

“Mom,” I ventured, “you happy?”

She paused, staring into the salad bowl. “Happy? I’m alive. Warm. Reasonably fed. My family, most of it, is here with me.” Her eyes met mine. “I never dreamed I could be this miserable ever. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. Grateful that my husband went to all this trouble…”

I saw the question in her eyes at the same time I felt it in my gut. “What are we surviving for?” I asked.

She nodded. “Did we survive simply for the sake of surviving? The rest of our lives, we just exist to survive?”

Tears welled up as she set a hand on her stomach. “I wanted so much for my children. For a while you had it all. Good schools, everything you could want to make a great childhood. And I was happy. Down here, though…” She took a deep breath and let it out. Her voice had a slight quiver to it. “You are all so affected by this place in your own ways.”

My first inclination was to disagree and I started to protest.

Her expression shut me up. “Don’t deny it, Eli. I want us to thrive again. But this isn’t it. It isn’t even close.” Her hands went up to cover her face as her shoulders shook.

I just sat there. Sat there and watched her weep.

Part of me wanted to hold her. All of me knew that’s what a good son would do.

Alas, I fell neatly into the category of lousy son.

I snatched some napkins off the counter and set them down next to her.

“Thanks.” She wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. “You know your father and I aren’t… sharing a room anymore.”

I thought of the couch in Dad’s office, the pillow and blanket. Not like we had a guest room for him to retreat to. But I didn’t want her to know I’d noticed anything. “Since when?”

“For a while. We don’t agree on a few things.” She patted her belly.

It was pretty clear to me that the gesture referred to the Supplements. They meant only one thing to my father, yet clearly they were something else entirely to my mother. And all that time I had been suffering from the delusion that I could remain uninvolved, choosing to side with neither of them.

I put both my elbows on the counter and rested my chin on my hands. “Mom, if you could leave here, would you?”

She wiped her eyes again. “Only if it didn’t put any of you in danger.”

“You just said you want us to thrive.”

She nodded. “Yes. I do. But I also want you alive. And if surviving is all we can have at this point, I guess I just have to live with that.”

I sat back up. My fingers pulled at the collar of my T-shirt. “Do you think things are really like Dad says?”

She peeked in the oven door. “I have no way of knowing.”

I had expected her to reassure me, tell me that Dad knew what he was doing like he always did. But her answer gave me an opening, an opening to see if I could trust her. And I needed to trust her.

I swallowed. “Did he tell you the Internet is up?”

Mom grabbed the edge of the oven to steady herself. “What?” Her surprise was definitely genuine.

“I take it that’s a no.” I told her what Dad had told me.

She sat down. Her face was pale. “You know, my mother never wanted me to marry your father.”

“Why not?”

She’d never talked to me this way before. Like an adult.

“Oh, where should I start? He was such a complete package, you know. Smart, good-looking, rich. I usually liked taller men. But, you know, I figured he could always stand on his wallet.” She grinned, but it looked uncomfortable.

My forced laugh felt the same way.

She shrugged a bit. “Your gram just didn’t trust him. She said he seemed too controlling. All I saw was a man who could make my dreams, and the dreams of my future children, come true.” She paused.

I really didn’t want to hear any more. Despite everything, that had always been a constant for me. Something to draw strength from. My parents and the life they made together. Not perfect, but strong nonetheless. It was not pleasant to find out the foundation of your house had dry rot.

She continued, “And he was so involved with the orphanage. He never hesitated when I saw Lexie and knew I had to take her home with us. I knew my kids would never want for anything. I know it might sound shallow to you, Eli. But it was such a relief to know I was marrying a man I wouldn’t have to fight over money with.”

It was my turn to say something. All I could come up with was “And now?”

The oven’s timer buzzed.

Mom stood, pulling on her thick red oven mitts. “I honestly don’t know.”

I watched Mom pull a loaf of flat bread out of the oven. She chewed on the inside of one cheek, distorting her face. As she set the hot fresh bread on the cooling rack, the funny-smelling bread that no one but Dad would eat, I could tell what was running through her mind.

Dad came in then, sat beside me and asked for my inventory sheets. He scanned the page, and then scratched his neck. “I’m not sure where I miscalculated, but my last figures were off.”

Mom must have decided it was a good time to start talking to him again. “Is this where you tell us when the food will run out?” Her voice was full of worry, yet there was also a harsh tone to it.

Dad didn’t even notice. His finger trailed down a paper on his clipboard. “About a year before the fifteen years are up. Depending on the hydroponics, of course.”

He could have been giving us the weather report.

Mom tapped the knife on the cutting board. “The vegetables will last. We’ll have enough food.”

I spoke up. “Why can’t we just be vegetarians?”

Dad laughed a little as he dropped his pen on the clipboard and shoved it aside. “They rely on eggs and dairy products for protein.”

“What about vegans? They don’t eat any animal products, do they?”

Mom answered me. “Because they have soy products and nuts for protein. Your father was never a fan of soy and the nuts are long gone.”

Dad leaned his head to one side as he looked at her. He stood up and walked over to the counter. He sliced off a piece of bread and tossed it between his hands to cool. “By my calculations, protein will be totally lacking. We won’t have a choice.”

Mom snapped at him. “There’s always a choice.”

“Of course there’s a choice. Do you want to live or die?” He held out the bread to me. “Bread?”