The stairs up to the front door of the lake house are narrow, so we have to stand single file, Dad at the top of the stairs, jamming the key the realtor left under the worn mat in the lock over and over again. Mom’s getting red behind him, saying, “Try it the other way. No, the other way!”
I stand behind her, sweating. Karen sits down on the bottom step, her headphones on, chin on her knees, scraping patterns in the dirt with a stick. We aren’t even in the house yet and Mom and Dad are fighting.
“Joseph, let me try.” Mom taps Dad’s elbow with the tips of her fingers, and he shoves them away like she’s burning him.
“No. It won’t open.”
He’s sweating; it’s running down the sides of his face, making a wet V down the back of his shirt. Karen looks up at me, rolls her eyes, and goes back to the stick and the dirt.
“Joseph, really, let me try.”
Dad moves his body to block Mom’s reaching arm, pulls off his T-shirt and wraps it around his fist. I never noticed how hairy his back was; it’s all matted down with sweat. Nasty. If I ever get hair like that on my back, I’m shaving it off. Dad punches through a pane of glass, reaches his hand through, and unlocks the door from the inside. He pushes it open and makes a welcoming motion with his arm, “Come on in. Home sweet home.”
Mom stalks past him, making a huge point of having to step over the shards of glass.
“Donnie, Karen, let’s go. Inside.”
I step one foot inside the door and Karen bumps into me from behind. Mom’s standing in the kitchen with her hands over her mouth, looking hard at Dad, like she’s asked him a question he hasn’t answered yet. I don’t know what’s going on till I take a breath, or half a breath. I turn and run, pressing my hands over my mouth, my nose; even my eyes are stinging. Karen’s got her tank top pulled up over her face, and we knock into Dad as we run past him and down the front steps. He stays on the top step, leaning his back against the railing and groaning, “Of course. Of course this would happen.”
“Ack! What was it?” Karen’s on her hands and knees, spitting in the grass. I’m stooped over doing the same.
“Something died. Something dead.” I stick my tongue out, trying to get the air to lift the taste off.
Mom’s on the steps with Dad. They lean against the banister, looking into the house. Mom nudges him with her elbow, saying softly, “Hey, it’s all right. It’s going to be fine.”
He sighs in response and moves himself closer so they are just barely touching.
Karen rolls in the grass, making loud retching noises and grabbing her throat.
“What died? An elephant?” Karen rolls on her back. “How many?” She laughs. “An f’ing herd?”
I look at Mom and Dad for a moment more, then drop to the grass and roll, grabbing my throat. “Ack! What was it?” I give my high-pitched, squeaky imitation of Karen’s voice. She squeals in mock anger and sends a handful of grass flying at my face. Mom and Dad give us one-and-a-half smiles and don’t tell Karen to watch her mouth. At least that’s something.