Never Nerida

1

It was nighttime when they left. Then day, and night again.

Livia Karras, eight years old, sat in the back seat of the Buick Skyler sedan, warm and snug in her winter coat, scarf, gloves and boots. The car descended through a meandering mountain pass and Livia felt a funny sensation in her ears. Mommy told her to hold her nose and blow. She did, and her cheeks puffed out and her ears popped, and she felt better.

Her coat was like a sleeping bag except there was a place for her arms and legs to stick out. It looked and felt like it was full of air but there was no place to pump it up like a beach ball. She tried to squeeze the air out, but it just went back to the same shape as before.

The windscreen wipers had been on slow for quite some time and their rhythmic back and forth had almost lulled her to sleep. But the snow was falling harder now, and Daddy turned them up a notch.

It was no longer pitch-black outside. Darkness wasn’t really a color, Livia thought. It was what was left when all the other colors disappeared. At night, every other color was swallowed into it and in the morning, they came out of it again—so it must be something different and big enough to contain them all.

She stared out the side window. Tree limbs sped by, their bare, gangly branches going this way and that. Livia squinted and it made the trees melt together, like one long flat thing instead of a bunch of separate ‘standing up’ things. Where she came from, there weren’t many trees. Things were flat and smooth and round and there was sand and sun. This place was different; mountains, forest, rain, snow and things with all kinds of funny angles.

Almost there, Daddy assured her. One more hour.

One hour wasn’t long—about two episodes of her favorite television show if she watched them one after the other. But an hour in the car was different than an hour watching her favorite show. She found time changed depending on what you stared at.

On her lap, she cradled a clear cellophane bag containing water and J. Alfred—her goldfish. He was her responsibility—to make sure he got fed on time and that his tank got cleaned out, although sometimes Daddy helped with that. She glanced down at J. Alfred as she thought about him; the jolting of the car had him spinning like an autumn leaf, then almost bashing against the side of the bag, but he seemed safe enough. Like Livia in her puffy coat, the water held him safe and stopped him banging his nose on the sides. Did goldfish even have noses? She didn’t know and just shrugged to herself.

In truth, fish were kind of hard to understand. She’d wanted a horse. They’d said no. Then a dog. They’d said no. Eventually, they’d settled on J. Alfred. If she did a good job looking after him, then maybe in a year or two they’d get something better, something she could hold and cuddle. Cuddling J. Alfred wouldn’t be good. It would probably kill him, and Livia thought how miserable it must be to be a goldfish and never have cuddles. That was probably why God made them bad at remembering, because who’d want to remember they couldn’t ever have cuddles?

Livia pushed her finger against the clear plastic of J. Alfred’s temporary cellophane home, trying to touch him. But he wouldn’t even let her do that. Pushing in one side only made the bag bigger on the other side. She stopped tormenting him, heaving out a sigh. It was boring and J. Alfred was probably miserable enough already, without ever having had any cuddles. It sure was hard to love goldfish and there really wasn’t much point to it anyway if they were just gonna forget a few moments later. There was only so much love to go around and it was easier to love a dog. Dogs could appreciate love and give love back. Unlike goldfish, which didn’t really have any emotions or feelings at all.

Mom looked back at her from the front seat and smiled. Mom’s belly had grown much bigger in the last few months. It was as if she was filled with air too, just like the coat. She was always holding her tummy and stroking it with her thumb.

Livia frowned.

It means there’ll be more love in the house. You know that, right? Mom said.

Livia nodded. It wasn’t as much of a lie if you didn’t use words.

She enjoyed being an only child. It was the new baby’s fault they were moving to a new house in a new state. For Livia, it meant leaving all her friends behind.

This new baby would take up all their love and attention and she wondered if Mom and Dad would have any left over for her? Mommy had told her love couldn’t be divided, only multiplied. The more you give, the more you’re able to give, she had said. Used but never used up. But that didn’t make any sense, since everything else, like cakes and candy, got smaller when you shared them out. Everyone knew that.

The snow fell heavier still, and Daddy turned the windscreen wipers to full but they still had trouble keeping up with the frenzy of snowflakes that lashed silently against the windshield. He craned his neck forward slightly and squinted at the road ahead.

Livia was all alone now. No more Mom and Dad to look after her. She shuffled across the sheet ice and made her way back toward the road, leaving a trail of blood droplets behind her. She recognized this place; Mom had shown her photographs to try and get her excited about their new home.

Her puffy coat had become snagged in the wreckage, so she had to slip out of it to escape in time. She heard a final thunderous crack and then silence. She didn’t want to look back but did anyway. The car—all of it—was gone. Nothing there anymore, except a big hole in the ice, the vehicle swallowed up by the ravenous, freezing black waters of Lake Wassaic. She had never seen black water before. She’d seen clear water, blue, grey and even green water in a swimming pool once—but never black. Never like this.

She held up J. Alfred’s plastic bag, no longer filled with water but with blood. Or a mixture of the two, really. It took a moment to see the reassuring flicker of his golden scales in the thick red cloud. He was safe, for now, but the bag was leaking. Drops of blood seeped over her hands and down the front of her sweater. Throwing him into the lake wouldn’t do. Too dangerous, he’d never survive. He needed a proper owner. Someone responsible, like her, who would feed him on time, more or less, and clean out his tank. She must get J. Alfred to safety. It was her final duty. Then she could join her parents.

Livia reached the shore and climbed over an assortment of rocks and boulders. It was hard to keep balance and hold J. Alfred at the same time. Not to mention the darkness. Finally, she reached the mangled roadside railing. It hadn’t done its job like it was supposed to. If it had, her parents might still be alive. She kicked it. Her body shivered and she pressed her elbows tight against her sides. She walked a quarter mile before finding what she was looking for. Livia knelt down and placed J. Alfred’s bag on the asphalt beside her.

A piece of used, congealed chewing gum was stuck to the surface. She pushed and pulled at it with a small coin from her jacket pocket, but the coin just slipped and slid over the hardened gum surface. She tapped at it with a clawed fingernail; the cold weather had turned the gum icy and brittle, it so it wouldn’t easily come away. Livia leaned over, placed one palm against the road for support and scraped at the gum with the pretty pink fingernails of her other hand. Mom would surely give out to her were she still alive, so in that one sense, it was probably better that she was dead. Livia’s poor little nails—and with her cuticles so shiny and polished and all—and the tips had been nicely filed with a layer of fine nail gloss applied. But surely, it didn’t matter? She’d get new ones in heaven later on that day and those ones would probably never wear out. It was working and the gum began to lift away. She clawed at it again with her thumb nail.

There was a distant rumble and she looked up. Oncoming headlights in the distance. She scurried into the trees and hid. Whoever it was, they would probably want to help her and that was the last thing she needed. A truck sped past. Livia re-emerged from the trees and went back to the congealed gum. The truck had only gone and flattened it against the asphalt again.

A few minutes’ work and finally, the gum came away in one piece, and she popped it quickly into her mouth. It felt hard like a stone, and she couldn’t chew it quite yet, had to soften it first. Bits of dirt and grit stuck in her teeth as she chewed. Eventually, the gum became soft and stretchy. Livia broke off strings of gum and rolled them into little flat round pieces to plug J. Alfred’s leaking bag. Just in time. There wasn’t much left for him to swim around in, but enough to keep him safe for now. Her front tooth felt sharp against her tongue where the enamel had chipped away on the gum that had held onto tiny fragments of gravel from the road. Her job was done. She continued on.

How long had passed? One hour? More? Her feet got heavier and her footsteps shorter. So weak. Almost there. She walked up the main street of the town. It still slumbered. Finally, she found what she was looking for—a pet shop. She placed J. Alfred on the stoop. Livia caught her own reflection in the store window. Her lips were blue. Not much life left in her. That was okay.

In the alleyway next to the pet store was a dumpster with flattened cardboard boxes stacked inside. She placed the cardboard on the ground, took off her sweater and pants and boots until she was only in her shirt and shorts, then lay down on the cardboard and curled up. All she had to do now was go to sleep and die. When she’d wake up, Mom and Dad would be there to greet her and she’d have new, new perfect teeth that wouldn’t feel sharp against her tongue and she’d be warm, and it would just be the three of them like before and everything would be fine.

2

22 years later…

The houses along Mulberry Crest were well maintained with neatly-manicured lawns. Number 27 was a notable exception. Ivy strangled the exterior walls and what began as hairline fractures in the stonework had become more pronounced with each passing year. The front yard had never known the affection of a lawn mower and rusted iron grates covered the ground floor windows. A real estate agent might have described it as austere chic and that design aesthetic had been generously extended to the interior. There were no carpets, no decor and no furnishings beyond the absolute bare minimum required by its single occupant.

Livia Karras, thirty years of age and wearing a simple white linen shirt and pants, stood on the upstairs landing and looked in at the bathroom. The bathtub, as always, was filled to the brim.

I got you something, she said. She produced a gold necklace and placed it on the side of the tub. More expensive than the others.

It had cost her the last of her savings, $1,200. Credit cards would have to take up the slack until she found a better arrangement.

Livia’s house—she never called it a home—had been purchased with funds from her parents’ will which had been placed in a trust until she turned eighteen. She had been living off the rest in the intervening years but now those funds had all but dried up. She exercised a spartan frugality over her own needs and wants, but Nerida’s taste for expensive gold necklaces seemingly knew no satiation and had necessitated refinancing the house.

She waited for any kind of disturbance on the surface of the water. And waited.

How can I make things better if you won’t speak to me? she asked. I know that you know. It won’t happen again, I promise. If you can just find your way to forgiving me, we can go back to how things were.

The surface of the water remained still.

I’ll spend more time in the Alchemy Room. Is that what you want? Twelve hours a day instead of eight, Livia promised.

Livia stood in the centre of the Alchemy Room. White tiles covered the floor and walls.