Devil’s Lake

My mother lounges on an old rattan recliner, knits a baby sweater and instructs me to get mint flavored tea, her sun-touched feet flat on the jute carpet. I dip the tea bags, feel moody, and stain the counter top as my dog, Rusty, circles my feet, his open mouth a day’s pocket waiting for rain.

I know she wants to give the dog away. It’s because he’s always hungry. “Too much money,” she complains. When I serve the tea with a side of my pubescent awkwardness, she says, “Thank you sweetie,” in her raspy, sexy voice and I wonder if she’s already found someone to take Rusty away.

Outside the sky is white with light. The breeze stirs the leaves of the maple. Far away, a truck engine whines and stops. All goes silent. I think about my father, Ray. A garage owner and a car dealer. Someone with a lot of money. Someone I never lie to. My mother, on the other hand, is someone who believes anything-wrong-is-your-fault. She has no sympathy. She thinks she’s got the answers. I feel like a stranger around her. Intimidated. Like a small crack between a bed and a wall, cold and dusty.

She gets up from the recliner, stands near the window. I want to tell her I know. I know this is not my father’s baby. I want to tell her that everyone knows.

“Is it going to rain this week?” she asks.

“Don’t know.” I turn my face and start walking away.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I say. Rusty is next to the door, his head down upon some scent. I trip over him. He whimpers and runs away.

“That dog needs to go,” my mother says, her voice high and uneven. Then she walks up to me and puts her arm around me. “Go on, say what you think.” She squeezes my shoulder, her arm swollen, too big for the room.

All of a sudden, it starts to rain. I look at her blue-grey eyes, her perfect jawline and in that moment, she looks so certain, so composed; I feel a chill run down my spine. I can hear her steady breathing. I want to ask if Ray is my father, but I cannot bring myself to do it. No, I should not move. I should wait. She smiles and opens the door, pausing a moment before she goes out.