Page 33 of Snow Creek

Me: So, I told Hayden to plug up a toilet with a bunch of toilet paper, flush, then hide in a storage cabinet. He got mad because I made him hide in the women’s room. I told him it’s the only way we can be safe. A man will come in there and shut down the toilet’s water flow. And since it’s the last run of the night, he’d leave the mess for the morning crew to clean up.

My voice goes soft and then stops.

Dr. A: Do you need to take a break, Rylee?

Me: Just thinking about my brother. His trust in me. Hayden was so scared. I remember how I acted so tough because I knew that I was near breaking too. I just did my best to hold my emotions inside because that’s the only way anyone can get through the really hard stuff. Our mother told me that. Mom told me that she learned to actually control her feelings. She said that she knew that emotions only made the punishment greater. Dr. Albright, can we stop? I feel sick.

I hear Dr. Albright shift in her chair. She says that remembering buried things can do that, but promises it will get better. She pulls a tissue from the box and says I could call her if I need to talk before our time together the following week.

Me: I carry your number with me, Doctor. I haven’t used it yet.

Dr. A: But you can. You need to know that, Rylee.

* * *

I check my email. Once more, nothing from my brother Hayden.

My nearly empty glass follows me to my bedroom, and I lie there, half asleep, half woozy from too much alcohol. I run my hand through my hair. I’m back on theWalla Walla. The images are fuzzy, like an old VHS tape.

Hayden is asleep, and I gently lift him away, deeper into a nest of paper towels. I turn in the dim light of the ferry bathroom and hold up my hair with one hand. I reach for the scissors and start cutting. Locks fall like autumn leaves over the dingy countertop and into the bottom of the pitted white sink. I cut, and I cut. Tears roll down my cheeks, but I don’t make a sound.

I open a box of dye and apply it with the thin plastic gloves that come in the box. I smell the chemicals as my hair eclipses from brown to blond. I rinse in the sink, the acrid odor wafting through the still air of the bathroom. I tear a ream of paper towels to wring out the water and then, in what I think is a brilliant move, I turn on the hand dryer and rotate my head against the hot spray of air. I am in Maui. I am in Tahiti. I’m on the beach and I have a tan. A handsome boy looks at me and I smile.

The dryer stops, and I look in the mirror and I see her.Mom.I look just like my mother. It was unintended genius.

Hayden, now awake, seems to agree.

“I miss Mom. Do you think they found Dad?”

I indicate the second box of hair dye. “Your turn, Hayden.”

He climbs up on the counter and lays his head in the sink as I wet his hair with lukewarm water. It reminds me of when he was a baby and Mom washed him in the sink instead of the tub. He scrunches his eyes shut as I rub in the dye. When I’m done, he will be transformed. He’ll no longer be the little boy with the shock of blond hair, the one that makes him look like he’s stepped out of the page of a cute kids’ clothing website.

I look down at the name on the dye box.

Dark and Dangerous.

* * *

The tape spins to the end and all I can think about is Hayden. We had a blowout of a fight the last time we saw each other. It was my fault. All of it. I was like some insidious weed that took over every inch of his life. We’d met in a crowded bar near SeaTac airport. He was all grown up, going on a vacation to Cabo before deploying for the Middle East. Things were going well for us, I thought. We’d moved on and made something of ourselves.

I don’t know why it happened, but it did.

All it took was four words from my little brother.

“Mom really misses you,” he said.

“I can’t go there, Hayden.”

“Why?” he asked, leaning closer to me, scanning my face. “She’s our mom, Rylee. She hasn’t had it easy. She misses you. Don’t you even love her a little?”

I didn’t. Not even a drop of love for her. I couldn’t tell Hayden why.

“You’re one selfish bitch of a sister,” he said. “After all we’ve been through, you don’t care about anyone. Do you?”

I put down my gin and tonic. “I care about you.”

Hayden shook his head. “Really? That’s funny. You’ve only seen me three times since foster care.”

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