Chapter 18: Trot

A wild animal lived in their backyard. It kicked and screamed and they fed her…

“Rach- erm, Chell! Would you come downstairs sweetie? I made you supper!”

She pretended not to hear her. Chell flung her binder onto the bedroom floor. It made that terrible thudding noise that sounds a thousand times louder downstairs.

“Chell?” Her voice was suddenly beside the stairway,  creeping towards her. “It’s mac-and-cheese… your favorite!”

She jumped up from her desk and crawled into bed. It hadn’t always been hers… the mattress was practically flat and little bits of stuffing crawled out from the comforters. She pulled her dark, musty sweater over her face and buried her head in her knees under the sheets.

Chell felt a jumble of emotions building up in her chest, as stairs creaked closer and closer to her room. She wanted to collapse into her mattress… she wanted her bed to devour her whole. She wanted out of this whole arrangement. She wanted to hop out of bed and scream. She wanted to rip the closet door off its hinges and tear every colorful piece of clothing that gathered dust beside the window. She wanted to be rid… of her.

“Chell? Is something wrong honey?” She was already at the door. Chell was extra careful not to move a muscle, willing herself to melt into the mattress. At the same time, she could feel herself squirming from out of the sheets. The door slid open, a crack of light shining through the comforters.

“Hmm,” she sighed, watching Chell’s ponytail poke up onto her pillow, “Are you… feeling down again?”

Idiot. Chell could never just stay still. She could never have an hour… even a minute to herself. It was always like this. This was her chance, though. This was her chance to finally tell her off.

“Mom,” she said, pulling her head up and opening her eyes, “You have to listen to me.”

“Yes?” Mom stuck her teeth together like a shark, in that pale imitation of a smile.

“I-” Chell stammered, fighting the pathetic excuse that wanted to sail from her lips, “I… was only sleeping... That’s why I didn’t hear you.”

She fell back against the bed in silent fury. With a single task at hand, to tell her mother off, that was the best she could come up with. The rage that couldn’t manifest on the outside drew within, and she spread across the bed as if she had been crucified on its mattress.

“I understand sweetie,” Mom said… facetiously, “You’re going through a rough time right now. I was a little confused too when I was your age. Why don’t you come down and have some dinner? It’ll make you feel better.”

‘Feel better.’ The words rang in Chell’s ears. What were they supposed to mean? Why was she always practicing this pamperer shtick, pretending that surface-level pity made a difference? She was always mocking her with these cutesy little gestures.

“Yes, I’ll come downstairs.” Chell said.

…

“Isn’t it nicer out here?” Mom said. “Not caging yourself up in your room?”

The kitchen lights were blinding, ruining that quiet mystique Chell basked in on dry winter nights. There was something so agitating about this house. She had had a good few months to settle in, but it wasn’t getting any better. Every room found its own way to press her buttons covertly.

The screen on the living room window seemed sturdy enough, but one persistent cold draft would always leak in through the holes. Even the bathroom contained that leaky faucet whose drips echoed all the way down the hall. So Chell sat at the table silently, doing her best to ignore the radio on the counter, belching out overly cheery country ballads. She hoped her silence would be a little contagious.

“So,” Mom went on to Chell’s chegrine, scooping mac-and-cheese and teaspoons into bowls, “I guess… you stayed home all day?”

‘Who cares. None of your business. Stop talking to me.’ Chell wanted to say.

“Yeah.” Chell said.

Mom laid out the bowls of macaroni as if she were some kind of teamaster, placing them on the table so delicately. 

“Then darling,” she said in that insultingly sing-songy voice, “What did you do all day?”

“Read mostly... “ Chell replied.

“Even when I’m not home?” Mom smiled, “Well that’s lovely. We- I never thought you’d have any interest in those old things.”

‘Old things.’ She said it as if she were describing an old box of shoes. It was plain to Chell that Mom was never interested in those books… whose spines were probably bulkier than her dainty, fragile wrists. She must’ve hated everything from before, Chell reasoned. She never spoke about it. Mom would dance around those books, and that bed and those boxes in the attic with that kind of flowery language.

‘Old things.’ She would say. ‘From before.’ ‘Back then.’ Chell hated the way she spoke about them all, as if she were writing a memoir. Chell hated the things she tried desperately to replace them with… like the pony, the dollhouse… or this mac-and-cheese that she wanted to make her own. It had to be her thing.

Chell stared into that very bowl of mac-and-cheese. As little as she wanted to admit it to herself, it was perfect. It was stirred in that way where the cheese was present, but not so present that it would stick individual pieces of macaroni together like glue. It wasn’t the noname brand that Mom insisted was just the same not long ago, but the one you had to drive further than the general store to buy. It had been arranged carefully in the little green bowl ‘From before,’ and a shiny teaspoon stuck through it all - very different from the tablespoon that finished the whole thing off in a few scoops.

Lovely as it was, Chell was struck with another thought. She pictured the words coming out of her mouth and felt their quiet impact. It brought her courage up far enough to actually say them:

“I’m not a little girl!” She suddenly blurted out, “I can make my own dinner.”

She stood up from her chair, clumsily thumping both her knees on the kitchen table. Mom stared at her, puzzled, Chell’s bowl hopping up a few inches in the air.

“I… didn’t know you felt that way.” She said.

Chell rushed over to the counter, looking for something simple. The cabinets were stuffed with bags of instructions, more words than food. It was a particularly barren day for the refrigerator, everything well out of reach of Chell’s… expertise. The freezer was mostly popsicles, but luckily, Chell spotted a plastic bag of whole grain bread at the very back. 

It took a lot of effort to separate two pieces in particular, but that was exactly why she picked them out. Her elbows shaking, she plucked them apart like marching cymbals, placing the smaller one in the toaster. She slabbed some butter on top and placed her new supper on a placemat, hardly matching the aesthetic sensibilities of the mac-and-cheese. Pushing the bowl aside, Chell bit into it victoriously, hardly noticing that it was a little burnt…

“So Chell…” Mom said carefully, drawing her own attention away from the smell coming from the toaster, “I was hoping to have a little talk with you.”

Chell exhaled, readying herself to stare Mom straight in the eye, toast-crunching noises pervading the air.

“I’ve been keeping track of your year - on the student calendar your school sends us. The one on the… fridge. I noticed that the science fair is coming up next week!”

Chell stopped crunching for a moment:

“The… what?” She asked.

“The science fair! You know - you do a scientific experiment, show it off and win a prize. Cause you’re the smartest girl in school!”

Chell, stared at her, stunned, squeezing the remains of burnt toast out of her hand. Mom thought she was still confused:

“Like you did with Dad at Apertur-”

…

“Oh Chell, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Chell turned her seat around and looked away. Not anywhere in the kitchen, not through the dog-shaped hole in the basement door and not even out the window… she just looked away.

“Honey, please.” Mom rushed over to her seat, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

She spread her arms entirely around Chell, practically squeezing her out of the chair she sat in. Tears flowed from Chell’s eyes at the touch of her skin, and she crumpled herself into a little ball on the kitchen seat.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, sweetie.” Mom stroked and caressed her like a kitten. “It’s all up to you.”

It was all so sudden…

“Thank you,” Chell whispered, “Thank you Mom.”

They sat there for a few minutes, mother and daughter, sharing a single seat and even a bowl of macaroni. It was quite intentional how long they had both put this off. Holding someone you love so closely can let you forget the absence of others.

Chell felt the bitterness inside dripping out with her tears. How long had that all been building up? How many horrible things had she thought without even realizing? The pure emotional release of that sob led to an even more emotional rollercoaster, where her tears justified themselves, dragging more and more out by the second. Perhaps Mom did understand her… maybe even better than she understood herself. There was a certain wisdom she had that she couldn’t just push away. Maybe… just maybe… everything would be okay. Everything was going to turn out fine-

“And if you do want to do the science fair, we could bring Blossom in! Maybe you could prove the link between oats devoured and running speed!”

Chell rubbed her eyes, clearing a view of her mother’s face which was completely devoid of the tears that encompassed hers. She was smiling like none of it had happened. She was still smiling… like a shark. 

“The science fair…” Chell took a deep breath, “You want to help me with… the science fair?”

Mom squeezed her close… like a snake strangles its prey.

“Of course Chell,” she said. “I want to help you… more than anything. I want to help you with science! You can follow in our footsteps!” There was a gleeful glint in her eye - one that Chell recognized from somebody else…

Chell began to squirm, trying to duck her head from out of her grip. Mom held on, seemingly oblivious to what she just said, hugging her uncomfortably close. With all her strength, Chell pulled one arm off her and then the other. She went tumbling onto the kitchen floor like a tiny boulder, the bowl of mac smashing on the white tiles. She stood up in an instant, storming to the back door.

“Chell!” Mom screamed, “What did I do? What’s the matter? Did I- did I do it again?”

“You don’t miss him at all!” Chell was weeping again, “You’re just… pretending!”

Mom got up from the table, trying to catch her up:

“Chell… that’s not true.” She said “You don’t understand-”

“No! You don’t understand!” Chell threw the door open and ran out to the backyard.

Snow clouds blew across the sky, dropping nothing but looking fierce all the same. A thin fog drew over the backyard, stretched out by a mighty gust of wind. Chell could hardly see where the road began, the wind dancing in front of her eyes.. Mom staggered outside, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Chell, come back inside! It’s too cold out here!”

Chell tripped and fell onto her knees.

“Then you go back inside!” She screamed.

Blossom the horse whinnied from her makeshift stable, clattering her hooves against her stall with ferocity.

“I don’t get you, Chell!” Mom cried through the wind “You never want anything to do with me. I’m trying my best… I always have. Why do you treat me like this?”

Chell limped towards the stable, the wind pushing her back with every step. She never should’ve doubted herself. She never should’ve curled up on her lap like some sad animal. Blossom kicked at the door.

“I thought maybe we could do something together.” Mom said. “Just once, I thought we could bond over something. We’re both… scientists Chell. Don’t you want to be like me? Isn’t that what you’re interested in?”

Chell fell onto the sliding lock in front of the stall.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

Chell pulled the metal bar out from its holder and rolled to the side in a hurry. Not a moment after she landed on the ground, frozen solid, did Blossom come galloping out furiously. Kicking her front legs in the air, she took off into the wind.

Mom watched the pony streak off into the distance, its mane blowing to and fro. Chell could practically see her short-circuiting in real time,

“Wh-” Mom stuttered, “Why…”

Chell picked herself up like she always did. She looked up at her mother, who was staring into the distance as if her mind were gone. Chell watched for Blossom in the distance, and made off in her direction.

“Why… do you hate me, Chell?” Mom articulated through breaths she couldn’t control, “You loved everything he did… when I do the same things, you just hate me, Chell. You hate me…”

Chell had the urge to keep walking… the urge to let things be. But she couldn’t. She turned all the way around:

“You’re not like him,” she said. “You remind me of him in… bad ways. That’s all you’re good for.”

Chell turned back around, the wind noticeably dying down. She disappeared into thickening fog, heading alone towards an orange light only she could see...