Page 25 of The Last Stars in the Sky
I hesitate because I really didn’t mean it—although, I realize with a jolt, I sort of did. I long for some connection to the outsideworld, a way to gauge what’s really going on. “I don’t know,” I say slowly. “It could be dangerous, Mattie.”
“Corville, dangerous?” Her tone is not quite brave enough to be scoffing.
“And we need to conserve gas. Who knows when we’ll need it?”
“Where else is there to go?” Now she really does sound scoffing. “I mean, by the time there’s somewhere to go, the gas stations will be open again, right?”
I don’t reply because I have no idea. Everything, absolutely everything, is unknown, and my ignorance is exhausting. “Mattie,” I finally ask, “what would we even do in Corville?”
“We’d justsee. And, I don’t know, maybe buy some groceries.”
I shake my head because if the world really is in Armageddon territory, we’re not going to be buying any groceries.
“I just want to see,” she insists. “Because what if this is all, like, fake?”
I think of the footage on TV, the radio broadcast, the president’s voice sounding so tinny and yet so real. The empty gas station in Flintville, the generator kicking on with its gusty rumble. “It’s not fake, Mattie.”
“Wasn’t there some time in history, when people believed some radio broadcast that was just a science-fiction story, and then they like, killed themselves?”
“War of the Worlds,” I confirm, “but I think the mass hysteria is mostly an urban legend.”
“Well, still.”
Still what?
I’m trying to think of a practical reason to go to Corville, to justify using the gas and leaving the cottage unattended, that isn’t just aboutgoing to see. Because the truth is, like Mattie, Idowant to see. I want to know, to be sure; I want to get a senseof how bad things really are. But it feels extravagant as well as foolhardy, to go on some jaunt right about now, simply for curiosity’s sake.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell Mattie, and she sighs, a sound of relenting, before leaning her head against my shoulder once more. I put my arm around her, and she snuggles in a little more, and for a second, I’m almost able to feel happy. Not actually happy, of course, but an approximation of it, a fleeting sense of gratitude, as wispy as the fog that melts away from the lake as the sun rises.
“Do you think things will ever go back to normal?” she asks after a moment.
I consider the question seriously. “Not the normal that we once knew,” I say finally. “But a new normal, yes. I hope so, in time.”
Mattie gives a snort of disgust, which makes me smile. “What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea.”
She laughs then, softly, and I laugh too, a huff of sound. When we’ve both subsided, Mattie says quietly, “What I mean is, will we ever go back to Connecticut?”
I’m silent as a montage of memories from Connecticut rolls through my mind—the five of us snuggled in the family room, watching movies; Mattie practicing piano in the living room, the sound drifting to the kitchen as I made dinner. Birthdays, Christmases, Thanksgiving dinners…and all the normal, nothing sort of days that I now treasure, because mundanity has become precious. “I hope so,” I say at last.
“Youhope so?” she retorts with some of her usual sass, her lips pursed. “I’mfourteen. Do I really want to live the rest of my life out here, like Laura Ingalls on—on Mars, or something? I mean, if we have to stay out here, who am I supposed to marry?”
This makes me laugh properly, from my belly, in a way I haven’t in a long, long time.
“I’m serious, Mom,” Mattie says, but she’s smiling.
“Do you miss Drew?” I ask. The question surprises us both. I didn’t realize I was going to ask it. I’m not even sure I want to know the answer.
Mattie glances away from me. “Yeah,” she says, her tone turning both guarded and thoughtful. “But I know you thought he was kind of a jerk.”
He was a complete and utter ass, I think, but thankfully don’t say. Still, Mattie’s too smart not to notice; she turns back to me, her lips quirking, eyes glinting. “What, you’re not going to agree?”
“I know,” I say carefully, “that he was important to you.”
She lets out a hoot of laughter. “Great, Mom. That’s straight out of one of your parenting books, isn’t it? TheHow to Talk to Teenagersone or that one about kids and power struggles.”
I let out a little laugh of acknowledgment. “I’m not sure which one, actually, but definitely from one of them.”
