Come West and See by Maxim Loskutoff

Author:Maxim Loskutoff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company

AN AGGRESSIVE, ROTTEN, FECAL SMELL greeted us when she opened the door. “Jesus.” I raised my arm over my nose, and bumped the two suitcases over the doorsill. Abandoning them in the entryway, I peered into the kitchen sink, then joined Kimia in the bathroom. Brown liquid filled the toilet nearly to the brim. It had a murky depth and texture, like a horrible cauldron, the underside of the world. Irregular white patches of mold floated on top.

“I don’t think anyone’s been here since last summer. It must have come back up.” The flush handle clanked uselessly when Kimia pressed it. She bit her upper lip. Dirt streaked her shirt. The expression of forced calm on her face threatened to break. She hardly ever cried, ever, but now I was afraid she might. We were faced with a year’s worth of standing shit. We were supposed to sleep in the next room. The plunger looked laughable. I thought of hotels. I thought of driving back to New York. We would not arrive until the next morning, in the swell of rush-hour traffic.

Kimia called her mom as I walked through the cabin opening windows. The interior was an open L-shape around an enclosed bedroom. It took less than a minute to see the whole thing. The smell was least repugnant in the far front corner. I stood there by the large window facing the lake. I pressed my nose against the screen and inhaled, desperate for a scent of fresh moving water. The last light glowed violet on the horizon. The far shore was a low, snakelike silhouette, slithering toward where it broke apart and Portage Lake emptied into the much larger waters of Lake Michigan. I thought of the droplets flowing toward that expanse. Did they know of waves? I felt unsettled. Stuck and vaguely afraid, as if I were somewhere I should not be.

You’re tired, I told myself.

By the time I finished bringing in the rest of our luggage, Kimia was off the phone. I heard a flush. “It was the power,” she said, meeting me in the kitchen, her face shining with relief. “I just had to flip the breakers.”

“Breakers.” I shook my head, as if they had been the source of much misery in my life. I reached out and tucked her bandanna back over her forehead. She stepped into my chest and wrapped her arms around my waist. I set my chin on her head, smelling the argan-oil freshness of her hair.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

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