The Great Alone

Leni couldn’t say the words that would explain it.

He would never understand why Leni sometimes believed she was the only thing keeping her mother alive.

Matthew pulled her into his arms, held her. She wondered if he could feel the way she was trembling. “Jeez, Len,” he whispered into her hair.

Had he meant that, to shorten her name, to claim it somehow as something new in his hands?

“I would if I could,” she said. After that, they fell silent. She thought about how different their worlds were, and it showed her how big the world was Outside; they were just two kids among millions.

When the boat docked in Homer, they disembarked with a throng of people. Holding hands, they lost themselves among the crowd of bright-eyed tourists and drably dressed locals. They ate halibut and chips on the restaurant’s deck at the tip of the Spit, tossing salty, greasy fries to the birds waiting nearby. Matthew bought Leni a photo album at a souvenir shop that sold Alaska-themed Christmas ornaments and T-shirts that said things like DON’T MOOSE WITH ME and GOT CRABS?

They talked about nothing and everything. Inconsequential things. The beauty of Alaska, the craziness of the tide, the clog of cars and people on the Spit.

Leni took a picture of Matthew in front of the Salty Dawg Saloon. One hundred years ago, it had been the post office and grocery store for this out-of-the-way spot that even Alaskans called Land’s End. Now the old girl was a dark, twisty tavern where locals rubbed elbows with tourists and the walls were decorated in memorabilia. Matthew wrote LENI AND MATTHEW on a dollar bill and pinned it to the wall where it was immediately lost among the thousands of bills and scraps of paper around it.

It was the single best day of Leni’s life. So much so that when it ended, and they were on a water taxi, seated on a bench in the aft, heading for Kaneq, she had to battle a wave of sadness. On the Tusty and in town, they’d been two kids in a crowd. Now, it was just them and the water-taxi captain and a lot of water around them.

“I wish we didn’t have to go back,” she said.

He put an arm around her, pulled her close. The boat rose and fell with the waves, unsteadying them. “Let’s run away,” he said.

She laughed.

“No, really. I can see us traveling the world, backpacking through Central America, climbing up to Machu Picchu. We’ll settle down when we’ve seen it all. I’ll be an airline pilot or a paramedic. You’ll be a photographer. We’ll come back here to where we belong and get married and have kids who won’t listen to us.”

Leni knew he was just playing around, daydreaming, but his words sparked a deep yearning in her; one she’d never known existed. She had to force herself to smile, to play along as if this hadn’t struck her in the heart. “I’m a photographer, huh? I like the idea of that. I think I’ll wear makeup and high heels to pick up my Pulitzer. Maybe I’ll order a martini. But I don’t know about kids.”

“Kids. Definitely. I want a daughter with red hair. I’ll teach her to skip rocks and hook a king salmon.”

Leni didn’t answer. It was such a silly conversation, how could it break her heart? He should know better than to dream so big and to give voice to those dreams. He had lost his mother and she had a dangerous father. Families and the future were fragile.

The water taxi slowed, drifted sideways into the dock. Matthew jumped off and looped a line around a metal cleat. Leni stepped out onto the dock as Matthew tossed the line back on board.

“We’re home,” he said.

Leni stared up at the buildings perched on barnacled, muddy stilts above the water.

Home.

Back to real life.

* * *

AT WORK THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Leni made one mistake after another. She mismarked the boxes of three-penny nails and put them in the wrong place and then stood there staring at her mistake, thinking, Could I go to college? Was it possible?

“Go home,” Large Marge said, coming up behind her. “Your mind is somewhere else today.”

“I’m fine,” Leni said.

“No. You’re not.” She gave Leni a knowing look. “I saw you and Matthew walking through town yesterday. You’re playing with fire, kid.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You must think I was born yesterday. Be careful, that’s all I’ll say.”