Susan Pfeffer - This World We Live In

It’s only been a few days since they moved out. Maybe by next week Mom will start visiting them.

The four of us walked over to Mrs. Nesbitt’s this morning, splitting up once we got there. Jon went to the parlor, where Alex and Julie set up a little chapel, and Matt, Syl, and I stayed in the kitchen with everybody else.

Dad moved Mrs. Nesbitt’s table back into the kitchen, and we sat around it for our prayer service. It made things feel more ordinary, and I was glad for that.

Someone would start a hymn and whoever knew it would join in. I asked for “Take My Hand, Precious Lord,” since that was Grandma’s favorite. There were some prayers, and Syl talked about the peace she felt when she accepted Christ as her savior. I guess that happened after the moon goddess Diana proved to be such a dud.

Charlie gave a sermon, if you could call it that. He said he’d been thinking a lot about Noah and his family lately, what it must have been like for them those 40 days and 40 nights. As far as they knew, they were the only people left on Earth. Everybody would be descended from them but only if they survived, and they had to trust in God that they would.

“I bet the rabbits weren’t worried about that,” Charlie said. “They just did what rabbits do. But it’s our curse and our blessing to remember the past and to know there’s a future.”

He reached over, touched Lisa with his right hand and Syl with his left. “Our past is gone,” he said. “But our future is in this house right now. Little Gabriel, sleeping peacefully in his crib. The children Syl will bear. Miranda and Julie, too. Their babies, born and unborn, are God’s gift to the future, just as the ark was.”

Dad squeezed Lisa’s hand. Matt squeezed Syl’s. I felt very much a part of something and very much alone.

Alex, Julie, and Jon came in, and Dad and Lisa served us dinner. It was crowded in the kitchen, and we couldn’t all fit around the table. Dad, Matt, and Alex ate standing by the sink.

We never used to have Sunday dinner. Sunday was for track meets and skating competitions and baseball games. But even with a beef jerky main course, Sunday dinner felt special.

“I should get back to Mom,” I said.

“I’ll walk you home,” Alex said.

It felt funny to be outside without needing a coat. It felt funny to be walking with a boy. It felt funny and awful to think in a couple of days I wouldn’t see him again. He and Julie would be like all the other people who’d been part of my life and then left me.

“Have you changed your mind?” I asked him. “About Julie staying?”

“No,” he said. “Did you think I would?”

I shook my head. “I’m still hoping, though,” I said. “And that you’ll stay, too.”

“We’re leaving on Tuesday,” he said. “It’s better for everybody. There’ll be more food for you.”

“Thank you for being so noble,” I said. “But we’d rather be hungry with you.”

Alex laughed. It surprises me every time he does.

Then he surprised me again. “You would have been my dream girl,” he said. “Before. Beautiful and smart and funny and kind.”

“I don’t have to be,” I said. “A dream, I mean. I’m here. You’re here. Why leave?”

“Because it’s best,” he said. “Maybe not now, this minute, but for the future.”

“You drive me crazy,” I said. “You. Charlie. Everybody. You talk about the future like you’re so sure we’re going to have one.”

“You have to believe in the future,” Alex said. “Otherwise there’s no point being alive.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” I cried. “You have your faith, your church. But I don’t believe like that. Maybe I used to but I don’t anymore.”

I thought Alex would get angry at me then, but he didn’t. “You don’t have to believe in the church,” he said. “Or even in God. Believe that people can change things.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know that anymore.” My mind flashed back to the dead man with his dog lying beside him. “We’re all helpless,” I said. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing left to trust in.”

“Trust in tomorrow,” Alex said. “Every day of your life, there’s been a tomorrow. I promise you, there’ll be a tomorrow.”

“Do you trust in tomorrow?” I asked.

“I have to,” he said. “For Julie’s sake.”

“But you don’t trust in us,” I said. “To look after Julie.”

He answered with silence.

“You don’t trust in anything, either,” I said. “Not really. Your God, your church, your tomorrow. You don’t even trust Carlos. You’re just doing what he tells you because it’s easier.”

“That’s not true,” Alex said. “You don’t understand.”

“I do understand,” I said. “But I don’t care. I’m not a dream girl. I’m a real human being with real feelings. How can I trust tomorrow? Tomorrow terrifies me. I wake up every morning scared and I go to bed every night scared, and all those tomorrows I’ve lived through are exactly the same. Hunger and fear and loneliness. Exactly the same as you, as everybody. Only you’re worse, because when we ask you to share our hunger and our fear and our loneliness, you turn your back on us. I may be lonely and scared and hungry, but I haven’t given up on loving people yet. You have. Or maybe you never loved anyone. Maybe all your life was dreams.”

Alex grabbed me. I knew he would. I knew he’d kiss me, and he did, and I kissed back. Only it wasn’t a dream-girl kiss. It wasn’t a kiss of love or even excitement, not the way I’ve been kissed before.

There was so much anger in his kiss. In mine, too. We shared it, the electric volt, and when we broke away from each other, we were both shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.” He gestured wildly, as though he was taking responsibility for the last horrible year of my life.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It was just a dream.”

I walked the rest of the way home alone.

I was nervous someone would suggest that Alex and I go into town to get our food, but Dad and Jon ended up going instead.

Alex and Julie came over this evening to thank us for our hospitality and to say good-bye. Julie looked a wreck and Alex didn’t look much better, and when they left, Jon ran to his room and hasn’t come out since.

I wish Alex would go already. I wish he would never leave.

The first official day of summer.

I checked the thermometer and it was close to 60. But then it started to rain, and it never stopped.

Jon spent the day sulking. I did, too. Matt and Syl spent it in their room, but I doubt they were sulking.

I don’t know if Alex and Julie left. He was so determined, but the weather was awful.

I could have gone to Dad’s to find out, but I didn’t want Alex to know I cared. Assuming he’s still there. Which he probably isn’t, because he’s a total idiot who would take his sister out in a hurricane if his big brother told him to.

The last living boy in America can go to hell for all I care. Except I do care, and he’s probably already there.

It’s still raining.

Charlie dropped over to talk mysteries with Mom. “Alex and Julie haven’t left yet,” he said. “Julie’s developed a bit of a cough. We were wondering if you had any cough medicine around.”

Mom gave Jon what little we have left, and he raced over with it. He didn’t come back until after supper.

The third straight day of rain. Jon says Alex and Julie haven’t left yet.

My guess is rain or snow, they’ll go tomorrow. And I’ll be glad. Not for Jon, who’ll be heartbroken, or for Julie. Not for Alex, either, because I don’t care what he feels.