Ends of the Earth

“We’d love to have you over for dinner,” Robert said, twisting around in his seat. “And please think about the therapist.”

Jason nodded. “I will. I… Thank you for the flight and dropping us off. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. We want to help in any way we can. Jason, there’s so much—” Shelly broke off. “I don’t want to push. I know we don’t have the right. But if you need anything, please call.” She gazed down at Maggie. “She’s wonderful, you know. You’ve done so well, darling. We’d really like to know her. To know both of you.”

“We just need some time. This has all been…a lot.” He gently squeezed Maggie’s hand before letting go to unbuckle her and give her a gentle shake. “Mags, we’re home. Come on.”

“Hmm? Okay.” She blinked blearily at her grandparents. “Um, bye.”

“Sleep well. We hope we’ll see you soon.” Shelly reached out and awkwardly patted Maggie’s knee.

Walking back into their building after more strained goodbyes, Jason dragged the suitcases and cooler and pressed the elevator call button. The cables groaned as it descended. He could see the Town Car still idling at the curb in the mirrored wall by the elevator. It was utterly surreal that he’d spent the day with his parents, full of stilted small talk about the weather and airplane food, although the fare in first class wasn’t bad at all.

Utterly surreal that days ago he’d been in the middle of the wilderness, desperately searching for Maggie, and now they were home again. Everything looked the same, but he felt like imposters. When they’d left home, they’d had no idea what was coming. Their lives had been neat and orderly, and Jason wanted to escape back to that easier time. But there’d be no Ben, and that thought ached.

The back of his neck prickled with his parents’ gaze as he and Maggie got on the elevator with their luggage. Jason jabbed the fourth floor, then the close-door button repeatedly. With a clunk and mechanical whine, they traveled up, safely alone again.

Alone. He’d told Ben he needed time, but how long would it take for Jason to get back to normal? To work through this thorny tangle of emotions?

Inside the apartment, he abandoned their stuff by the door, throwing the two extra bolts and turning on the main overhead light as Maggie shuffled to the bathroom, still half asleep. Her lung congestion had mostly cleared, but she was sleeping a lot, which Dr. Sharma had said to expect.

They’d only been gone less than two weeks, but the apartment felt stuffy and strange. He’d left the thin curtains closed against the heat, and pushed one aside now to slide open the window. The humid night air carried a hint of a cool breeze, and with the ceiling fan, it was usually enough for Jason to sleep.

He peered around the small apartment, imagining seeing it through his parents’ eyes. A narrow galley kitchen to the left of the front door, the old fridge humming faithfully, magnets covering it haphazardly, some holding up Maggie’s artwork from day camp.

Then a bathroom and hall closet where Jason kept his clothes, and the one bedroom, Maggie’s secondhand wood-framed bed dominating the small space. Jason tugged off his shoes and took Maggie’s suitcase in, opening her window and turning on her fan before unpacking and filling the laundry hamper in the corner.

Posters of animals and trees covered the walls. Would she still love nature after what happened? Or would forests frighten her now? Impotent rage at what Harlan Brown had stolen from her surged, and Jason gripped the wicker lid of the hamper, the hard fibers cracking.

“Dad?”

He forced out an exhalation and replaced the lid. “Ready for bed, sweetie?”

“Uh-huh.”

He opened the second drawer in her yellow and purple dresser, pulling out a fresh set of light cotton PJs. “Here you go. Feels good to be home, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Weird too. I wanted—” She stopped and bent to pull off her socks.

“What?” he asked softly.

She shook out her PJs. “I wanted so bad to be back here. You know, before.”

“Me too.” He hesitated. “When you were out there, without me, what else did you think about?” The psychiatrist in Kalispell had given him some suggestions for gentle questions.

Shrugging, Maggie changed and pulled down her thin summer bedspread, climbing in. Jason didn’t press, instead asking, “Did you floss and brush?”

“Yes. Can I sleep now?”

“Okay, baby. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

“I know. You always are.”

Choking down a swell of emotion, he kissed her forehead and turned off the light, leaving the door ajar.

His suitcase untouched, Jason pulled down the back of the futon in the living room and tossed his pillow and light blanket onto the lumpy surface. He stripped down to his boxers and turned off the lights, wandering restlessly to the kitchen to open the fridge.