3

A Change

The death took everyone by surprise.

Infinity's mother, the faultless Laura, had made a crucial mistake. By mixing one too many types of evening medication, she had prepared herself for a much longer rest that intended. Infinity's father, as distraught as he was by the discovery, leaped into action and locked the children into their rooms. What he was preventing them from doing was unclear. Infinity awoke around ten, tried the knob unsuccessfully, and assumed she was being punished for something. Zero awoke, tried the knob, and likewise assumed that Infinity was being punished for something. Both went back to bed and slept right through the arrival and departure of the ambulance.

Around two in the afternoon, when Infinity was beginning to calculate the logistics of climbing down the gutter pipe, her door was unlocked by the elderly Ms. Wimple. They fetched Zip and sat down in the living room. The next-door neighbor continually dabbed at her eyes with a hankie, which was made somewhat difficult by her humongous spectacles and utter lack of depth perception. She broke the news slowly. Zip began to cry. Infinity, disbelieving, ran back up the stairs to her parents' room. Sure enough, the bed was empty. Infinity placed her hand upon the silky sheets and traced the indentation let there. She could still smell lilac, and vanilla, and rose petal.

She sat down, hard. Without thoughts, her hands grabbed ahold of the carpet as though it too might disappear.

Infinity sat like that for a long time.

Days of mourning passed. Infinity turned fourteen. School let out. Ms. Wimple, who belonged to a breed of women that specialize in being useless until true need arises, was suddenly omnipresent. Infinity's father had been devastated. He did not emerge from his isolation until Mama arrived for the funeral. He had put on a suit and combed his hair, but there was no hiding his blood-shot eyes. Everyone was a little taken aback, including Mama. She looked resistant to touch him at first, as though he would crack.

He gave her a polite kiss on the cheek and she broke into a deluge of tears. Zip began to cry again as well. Infinity looked at her feet and wished she were anywhere but that room. She had shed her tears privately and once done, that was all that would be shed.

"I must talk to you about the children," Paul told Mama mechanically.

"Of course, of course," said Mama, patting him on the arm and sniffling. "I am of the opinion that they are still too young to be at a funeral…"

"You have to take them!" he interrupted.

"Well, if you feel that strongly of course," Mama begun.

"No, no! Not to the funeral. Home. Kentucky. Away."

Infinity's head rose sharply. Zib stopped mid-sob.

"I can't…" her father's voice cracked. "I can't deal with both losing Laura and keeping these two. Not right now."

Mama's beady eyes shifted and fell upon Infinity with what could only be described as terror. Infinity, who had no desire to go to Kentucky, smiled brightly.

"Only, see, honey, I've got a cruse this summer. Royal Seas. Bought the tickets ages ago, really."

When Paul opened his mouth to reply, Mama bulldozed right on through, her voice climbing an octave.

"It'll get my mind off of –sniff- losing my –sob- only daughter, and I'm sure it's what Laura would have wanted, bless her soul. It'll be my last chance to see the world before I-sniff- join my Laura again!" she broke down and fell into Paul's arms, which distracted him sufficiently by posing the new danger of tipping over.

"But… but…" he stammered.

"We could go stay with Grandmama and Grandpapa Joyce!" Zip chimed helpfully before Infinity could kick him.

Paul's face darkened. He had maneuvered so that he stood next to the couch and now he rolled Mama out of his arms and sat next to her.

"They never approved of Laura. They wouldn't even come to the funeral. Plus, they take religious issue with children."

"They had you, didn't they?"

"Yes, and Margaret, but that just goes to prove the point…"

"Margaret?" repeated Mama. Except her face was pressed in a pillow, so it sounded more like "Mgwha?"

Paul's breath caught.

"She wouldn't… I wonder… surely… It's been twenty years, but… if…"

Infinity, sensing yet more impending change, scowled.

There was nothing along the sides of the roads. No houses, no street signs, nothing, except for the occasional decrepit car "for sale." The sky itself seemed barren and the hills were impotently sloped. The wide expanse of farmland lacked the sense of life, the energy of a forest. If one of the occasionally viewed cows was to die, Infinity imagined it would just cook in the sun until it could be used for those rancid strips of jerky her father was so fond of.

The entire drive was conducted in near silence. Eventually her father flipped on AM radio to listen to men with static voices. The occasional word penetrated Infinity's fog. She was in a state of shock. Not completely sure of their destination, she refused to ask a question that might result in another lecture. After all, she wasn't completely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

After the fifth hour, she shifted some of the luggage so she could lie down. It was all of their belongings, haphazardly thrown into old gym bags. The entire backseat gently rocked. Between the moldy press and the constant rumbling of the old Ford, sleep was impossible. Plus Infinity would have to be on her toes, in case her father's plan was to summarily dump them off a cliff, or into a lake, or perhaps a small town where people kept young children as edible slaves.

When the car finally took a sharp left turn, Infinity looked up to see that her surroundings had changed. The road was barely two lanes, bordered on both sides by low-standing rock walls. They began to pass houses, some clearly dating to a time before route 29. Their gravel driveways writhed and coiled for half a mile. The prouder houses hid behind sparse patches of trees while the humbler houses—ornamented with window units—squatted in plain view, sometimes nearly on top of the road.

Eventually the road straightened and widened again as they cam into town. "Welcome to Leesville!" a sign read, decorated with a waving squirrel. It passed quickly, replaced by a surprisingly well-developed main street. The car wobbled as her father attempted to both drive and consult the map. He slammed the brakes on as they came upon Rugby Road. With a hairpin turn, they drove up a hill at a disquietingly diagonal angle.

"We're here," her father said gruffly as he pulled up in front of a white clapboard building at the end of the road. Infinity pressed her face to the car window to better see the end of the journey. The only sign was a hand-painted board with a picture of a cat perched on a stone wall. "Rugby Vintage Books and Antiques" it read in careful cursive.

Infinity's bafflement only grew as she followed her father through the door. A little bell tinkled; it heralded the beginning of a dream sequence. Infinity could see the familiar signs of a store. A cash register in the corner, the occasional glass case or rack. But Infinity very much doubted she had ever seen so much stuff in one room in her life. Granted, it was a very large room, but every surface was covered whether by a quilt or an elaborately framed family portrait, where everyone attempted to look as plain as possible. The light that streamed in from the six pane windows had the same dusty quality as light filtered by plants in full bloom.

Sitting atop one of the most precarious looking piles was a cat that any self-respecting taxidermist would have kept in the back. It regarded the threesome with one crusty eye. The effort of keeping it open pulled up its mouth, displaying a single yellow tooth. It didn't offer any other greeting than the methodical swishing of its tail.

"Margie!" bellowed her father, "we're here!"

His nose was crumpled in distaste.

"Whoop-de-friggin-doo" called a caustic voice from an unidentifiable room. "I left the door open for a reason."

This clearly was not the response her father had expected, or perhaps he had, and simply chose not to dignify it with an answer. His rose wrinkled further.

"We're here!" he repeated. "Robert and Zeb, and Hannah!"

"Not my name," Infinity grumbled half-heartedly. Her attention was fixed on an odd clock that appeared to rotate around its hands.

"Robert!" said the voice again, closer. Infinity turned around and laid eyes on a small middle-aged woman. Her curly brown hair was unceremoniously piled upon her head, held by a handful of strained clips. Grease and dirt had stained the man's shirt she was wearing wrong-way round. One particular black streak crossed her nose like war paint.

"I thought you were one of my quaint customers. Hug?" she asked dryly, holding out her arms. Infinity fancied she saw a gleam of amusement in those black eyes as her father cringed and pointedly held out a hand instead. The woman shook it seriously enough, and then turned her gaze to Hannah. She looked her over appraisingly.

"Hello niece. You don't look a thing like me," she commented.

Infinity gaped.

"No," her father replied for her. "She takes after her mother. Her things are in the car. Where should I put them?"

The woman shed the denim shirt as she gestured towards the staircase towards the back of the shop.

"I've set up the basement. Not afraid of spiders, are you girl?" she said, baring her teeth in a way, thought Infinity uncharitably, that made her resemble one of those vaguely terrifying Victorian baby-dolls.

"Well, get to it then," her father said, giving her a brusque pat on the back. Apparently the prospect of her imminent disposal had improved his mood.

There was a shriek and a clamor from the side of the room. Everyone turned to see Zip clutching his cheek, were a bright new scratch sprouted. The cat was conspicuously absent.

"Now that one looks a bit more like me," Maggie said dryly.

"I just tried to pet him!" Zip cried, his eyes welling.

"Best not to try that sort of thing with Colonel Mustard. He's a mean old soldier," Maggie said with another grin.

It didn't take long for them to move their things. The basement room, contrary to Infinity's fears, was better than a dirt pit, though not by much. The floor creaked whenever she shifted her weight and the woven rug on the floor looked like moth food. A cot had been set up against the side wall and sagged under the weigh of the quilts piled atop, while a child's bed stuck out from the back. Infinity surveyed the two and definitively put her suitcase on the bed. She didn't bother unpacking.

When she came back upstairs after the final trip, her father and her aunt were still deep in conversation.

"I'll be back to get them in September," her father concluded. "If they need anything before that, let me know and I'll send a check."

"Fine, fine," her aunt agreed. "But Robert, don't try to dump them on me any longer than that. This is inconvenient as it is."

"It's for the best," her father replied soberly. He then patted Infinity on the head. "Be good for your aunt," he said, and then left with the air of a man who has successfully haggled a deal and is afraid that the other party will renege. Infinity and her aunt were left in a sort of standoff.

"First rule: Do not call me Margaret or Marge, or Madge, or Aunt anything. I am Maggie. Just Maggie," she stated.

"Don't call me Hannah," Infinity replied.

"Oh?"

"My name is Infinity."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Mine," Infinity answered, eyes narrowing.

Maggie arched one eyebrow, but refrained from further comment.

"Well enough. Go ahead and get your things settled. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."

Infinity went back downstairs, but not with the intention of unpacking. She pulled apart some of the cases, but only to find the things she held dearest. With a pang, she thought of her treasure, still buried within the creek bed. No matter.

Her plan was less than fully developed, but Infinity had never been afraid to improvise. She had to get out of Leesville one way or another, be it Greyhound bus or train. She could hitchhike perhaps? She rezipped the black duffel bag she planned to take with her.

While Infinity stood there, mentally inventorying, her thoughts were interrupted by a deafening clanging. She made her way into the kitchen and saw it was a bell of immense proportions, as rusty as an old railroad. Maggie was beaming.

"I've always wanted to try using her," she said, patting the hull as one might pat a dog. Infinity saw now that the hull had the word "dinner" carved on to side.

The table had been set with a plain meal of scrambled eggs, and a basket of ready-made biscuits on a table cloth that was clearly meant for outdoor use. The chair wobbled as Infinity sat. She had the idea that a lot of things wobbled in this home-store. The entire place resembled what might happen if a family of five decided to live in an abandoned museum. Most of the furniture in the residential parts of the building—the upstairs and the basement—seemed to be things in need of repair before they could be sold.

Maggie had cleaned the oil from her face and hand, though her hair remained looking like someone had raked it backwards. She was right that the two of them in no way resembled blood relatives. Infinity's hair was an unimpressive dull blonde that hung in a sheet to her shoulders. Her skin was usually tanned from days spent in the sun, and while she was only fourteen, she was already at eye level with her petit aunt. Zip also had lighter coloring, but Maggie was right that there was something more between them. Perhaps it was the nose.

Maggie had at least five different types of reading material spread out on her side of the table. Her eyes darted between them as she ate at a rapid pace. Infinity stirred her eggs, playing with the idea of refusal in general protest, but she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. Zip dug in, though he looked very on edge, as though the Colonel was going to launch a guerilla attack. Eventually she broke and began to eat in silence. It was a simple meal but a good one.

After they had finished, Maggie whisked the plates away, only to add them to the precarious stack within the sink.

"Now," she said, clapping her hands together. "I have to go wrestle with Grendle some more. Entertain yourself, but beware lest you break anything."

Though Infinity was sorely tempted by the vast disorder of her surroundings, she kept her goal firmly in mind. The sun had not yet set. She could catch a train, and arrive back… where?

Strangely enough, that was how most of Infinity's hypothetical escapes ended. She would run away to somewhere, Zip in tow. It didn't matter where she was going, or who would be there, because Infinity didn't have a place anymore. She thought plenty about her words, but through a sort of veil, like the morning after a vivid dream. She wondered if the carpet would still smell like her mother's perfume.

The first night was the hardest. Zip fell asleep before Infinity allowed him to turn off the lights. Her eyes came to focus on his face, where she thought she could detect the slightest tightness. Zip had been closer to their mother.

Every other evening after his bath, he had disappeared behind the double doors. Once Infinity had followed, unthinking. Her mother sat on the bed, back supported by down pillows while Zip perched on the side. With the care of a sculptor, Laura ran her ivory brush through his curls. Eventually, she patted his head, and he obediently kissed her on the cheek and left, turning out the lights as he did so. Infinity, who had sunk on to the carpet, left before Zip could see her. There were no words spoken.

Her eyes lazily drifted to Zip, and before sleep finally closed them, she imagined she could see ghostly hands.