The Vein by Steph Nelson

Author:Steph Nelson
Format: epub

Pate, Idaho

July 1989

THIRTY-THREE

Lucas’s face barged into Syl’s brain right as she laid her head on the pillow. God, it was going to be one of those nights. She’d been doing well, keeping her mind so busy it didn’t have time to harass her with Lucas-thoughts.

(You should call him.)

Can’t. I’m working a case.

(No, you’re getting ready for bed.)

But she’d already dosed herself, and in less than ten minutes, she’d feel like she was under a comforter made of lead.

Where would she begin even if she did speak with Lucas? What, after so many weeks of radio silence?

Sorry, I probably never should have had children. You understand, right, five-year-old?

Pointless. He was too young to understand and too old to slip a quick call in without existential questions like, “When are you coming home?” pointed right at her.

Still, his face.

The way his little forehead always screamed to be kissed between the eyebrows. That face would thin out soon and produce acne, and then he’d be in the world of dating, and growing facial hair. Then SAT tests, college applications, and—

Syl squeezed her eyes shut. Fine to think about him, fine to miss him even. But fast-forwarding his life like this only tricked her into thinking she could still be a part of it. That door was closed, she’d seen to it. Syl rewound the mental tape to the forehead image and recalled what that spot of Lucas’s head felt like against her warm lips. Memories of him as a baby were all she had a right to. That time frame when she’d been a real mother to Lucas. As long as she kept her mind there, she was fine.

Syl turned to look out the window, but with the bedside lamp still on, it was a black square. Like a mine entrance. She understood why Roger had cracked, left Lucky Dog in such a hurry that first day. He was an odd bird, but Pate’s mines were creepy. Even so, she couldn’t dismiss the thought that he was holding back information. But what could she do? You can’t make a man speak.

When will these sleeping pills kick in?

Syl took out her French braid and shook her head. Her hair expanded into a huge lion’s mane. She rubbed her scalp to relieve the tightness. It’d frizz her hair out even more, but who cared? Nobody here to see it.

God, and that howl. The woods felt more active than anything she’d known before. Why were those mines so creepy? Was it because so many men had died? They were essentially burial grounds when you thought of all the miners who were trapped inside and never recovered. Early blasts they couldn’t outrun, cave-ins they couldn’t escape. The job was full of danger, and death was almost an inevitability.

Just then, something moved outside, down in the yard.

Syl flicked the lamp off to get visibility, so she wasn’t in a fishbowl if someone was out there. She walked over to the window to see what it was. She waited there in just her tank and underwear, and a shiver of cold went through her body.

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