On Mystic Lake

That strange feeling in Izzy’s chest seemed to grow bigger and bigger, until she almost couldn’t breathe. Slowly, she moved toward Annie, waiting for the lady to throw her hands up and say, It’s too goddamn much work, Nicky, like her mommy used to.

But Annie didn’t say that. Instead, she bent over and picked up the garbage, one piece at a time, shoving it into the black bag.

Cautiously, Izzy moved closer.

Annie didn’t look at her. “It’s just junk, Izzy. Nothing permanent. There’s nothing done here that can’t be undone. My daughter’s room used to look like this all the time—and she was a perfectly lovely teenager. ” She kept talking, and with each unanswered sentence, Izzy felt herself relaxing. “Why, I remember this place when I was a little girl. Your mom and daddy and I used to peek in the windows at nighttime, and we’d make up stories about the people who used to live here. I always thought it was a beautiful, wealthy couple from back East, who walked around in tuxedos and evening gowns. Your dad, he thought it was once owned by gamblers who lost everything in a single hand of cards. And your mama—why, I can’t recall what she used to think. Probably something romantic, though. ” She paused long enough to smile at Izzy. “Maybe when the weather warms up, we could have a picnic on the lawn. Would you like that?”

Izzy felt the weirdest urge to cry. She wanted to say, We could have milkshakes and Jell-O salad, but she didn’t. She couldn’t have, even if she’d really tried. Besides, it was just one of those things grown-ups promised even when they didn’t mean it.

“In fact,” Annie said, “we could have a mini-picnic today. When I get the living room cleaned up, we’ll have cookies and juice outside—iced raisin cookies and Maui punch. That sounds good, don’t you think? ‘Yes, Annie, I think that would be terrrrrific. ’ That’s my Tony the Tiger impression. Natalie—that’s my daughter; she’s almost a grown-up now—she used to love Frosted Flakes. I’ll bet you do, too. ”

Izzy bit back an unexpected smile. She liked the way Annie didn’t wait for her to answer. It made Izzy feel like she wasn’t so different, like not talking was as okay as talking.

Tiny step by tiny step, she inched sideways. When she reached the sofa, she sat down, ignoring the dust that poofed up around her. Bit by bit, the garbage disappeared, and after a while, it began to look like home.

Annie tapped lightly on Izzy’s bedroom door. There was no answer. Finally, she pushed open the door and went inside. The room was small and dark, tucked under an overhang in the roofline. A charming dormer reached outward, capturing the last pink light of day behind pale, worn lace curtains. The walls were done in a beautiful lavender-striped paper, and a matching floral print covered the bed. A Winnie-the-Pooh lamp sat on a white bedside table.

Nick and Kathy had probably planned this room and saved for it, wanting to create the perfect place for their child. Annie could remember the dreams that came with pregnancy, and the endless details of hope. Much of it started with the nursery.

Annie didn’t know much about manic-depression, or how it had twisted and changed Kathy, but she knew that Kathy had loved her daughter. Every item in this room had been lovingly chosen, from the Little Mermaid nightlight to the Peter Rabbit bookends.

She crossed the clothes-strewn wooden floor to the bed. Izzy’s dainty profile made a beautiful cameo against a faded yellow Big Bird pillowcase. A fuzzy purple blanket was drawn taut

across her shoulders and tucked gently beneath her chin. The doll—Miss Jemmie, Lurlene had said—was sprawled on the floor, her black button eyes staring up at the ceiling. Izzy’s tiny, black-gloved hand lay like a stain on the lavender lace bedspread.

Annie hated to wake the sleeping girl, but she was a big believer in routine. Children needed to know where the limits were and what rules governed. She’d put Izzy down for a nap at two-thirty—and was surprised when she actually fell asleep. Now, at four o’clock, it was time to wake up.

She bent down and jostled the little girl’s shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead. ”

Izzy made a tiny, mewling sound and snuggled deeper under the covers.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Come on, Izzy. ”

One brown eye popped open. Izzy used two fingers on her right hand to push the covers back. Blinking and yawning, she sat up.

“I thought you’d like to take a bath before your daddy gets home. ” Annie smiled and held up the bag of treats she’d brought with her. “I got you some new clothes and a few surprises—Lurlene told me what sizes to get. Come on. ” She helped Izzy out of bed and led her to the bathroom, where she quickly ran some water into the tub.

Then she knelt in front of the child.

Izzy eyed her warily.

Annie looked down at Izzy’s gloved hand. “Don’t you just hate it when parts of you start disappearing? Now, hands up. ”

Izzy dutifully raised her right arm. Her left arm hung limply at her side, the black-gloved fingers completely slack.

Annie sat back on her heels. “How, exactly, do we undress the invisible parts? I guess, if I just peel your jammies back . . . ” Slowly, she pulled the sleeve along the “invisible” arm. Then she reached for the glove.

Izzy made a choking sound and wrenched away from her.

“Oh, sorry. The glove can’t come off?”

Izzy stared intently at a spot somewhere behind Annie’s left ear.

“I understand. There is no glove, is there, Izzy?”

Izzy bit down on her lower lip. She still didn’t look at Annie.

Annie stood. Carefully taking Izzy by the shoulders, she steered the child toward the bathtub and helped her into the warm water. Izzy hugged the side of the tub, where her left arm hung limply over the edge.