The Light in the Basement

Sunrise on the outskirts of a suburban town. The robins have returned, pecking among newly sprung hyacinth and crocus, and the well-tended gardens sing again with bright splashes of white and blue. One hungry robin ventures to the bottom of an in-ground swimming pool whose cover blew away during the last nor’easter. Scouring dead leaves, it chances upon a reddish stone, no bigger than a baseball, in the center of the pool. Blocky, grooved along the circumference, it arouses a curiosity in the bird, who begins to peck at it furiously. Before long the stone splits open, releasing a cloud of green gas that floats upward, dissipating among the branches of an old elm. Soon after, there emerges a globe of sapphire light, shining with the electricity of a billion celestial synapses. As the robin takes flight, the glowing globe rises from the pool with a low, rhythmic thrumming. It follows a flagstone path to the nearby home and slips unseen through an open basement window.
*
In the master bedroom two stories above, Glenn Maddox silences the alarm clock and lies still in bed, listening to the breathing of his wife beside him. He scans the room—from the Persian rug, to the antique French dresser, to the TV that occupies nearly the entire west wall—and his stomach knots. Trying not to wake Brenda, he slips out of bed, grabs his phone off the nightstand, and heads downstairs to his office.
*
Brenda Maddox lies stone still, thin frame locked in the fetal position, as her husband’s alarm sounds. Though her back is to him, she keeps her eyes closed and pretends to sleep, silently praying for Glenn to climb out of bed and leave the room. Her bones are brittle tubes with crustaceans scuttling through them. She prays: Please, God, make him go. Please, God, make him go. Each second the crustaceans scuttle through the tubes, scraping her flesh. She wants to scream, but she prays: Please, God. Please, God. Please….
*
Madison floats in the center of a vast body of water, surrounded by fog. She cannot see the shore. She calls out to him, but there is no reply, only the wailing siren that echoes ominously from shore to shore. She calls again, but her voice is muted. Kicking to stay afloat, she tries to choose a direction. She must move, stop wasting energy here in the center. She can’t see through the fog, can’t make a decision. She calls out once more, but her voice is drowned by the sirens. Part of her wants to sink to the bottom, to be perfectly still, silent, free.…
*
Glenn gone, Brenda leaps to her dresser, opens her jewelry box, peels back its velvet floor to reveal a secret compartment. With trembling hands she picks out a lone pill and drops it into her mouth, chases it with warm water, and hugs herself tightly as the pill slides down her throat. She waits, nearly crying, the crustaceans clawing their brittle cages, as the pill dissolves and seeps into her bloodstream. Within a few torturous minutes the pain subsides as she prays: Please, God. Please, God. Please…. And then, gradually, she can be the person the world expects her to be, and she can act as the world expects her to act, and she calls out to her daughter, because it’s Monday morning, time to get ready for school.
*
The girl’s eyes open. She is no longer floating, though his name still clings to her lips. Her mother stands bedside, arms crossed.
“Turn that off, please.”
Groggily, Madison reaches over and presses the snooze button.
“Let’s get moving. We’re going to be late.”
She sits up, rubs her eyes, pushes back the dream.
*
His office is an exercise in opulence—and a source of dread. Everything in Glenn’s life, it seems, is accruing interest by the minute. Gazing out the newly installed window walls, he notes the debris at the bottom of the swimming pool and curses himself. He then unlocks his cell phone and calls the contact known only as “Pizza.”
“Update,” he says.
“A girl from Selwyn OD’d yesterday.”
“So what. Kids OD. Fact of life.”
“Her parents were on TV with the police chief last night. They’re following leads.”
“Ok, listen.” Glenn assumes the calm authority he employs at the office. “Business as usual. Anything unusual, you call me.”
“No. I’m done.”
“You can’t do that!” Glenn hears his voice grow shrill.
“We evened up last week. I don’t owe you anything. I can do what I want.”
“Please,” he pleads. “I really need this income.”
Pizza ends the call.
*
Sunlight beams in on the kitchen, teasing glints from granite and stainless steel, as the family enacts its morning rituals beneath a veil. By chance, Brenda spies a glimpse of herself in the refrigerator door. A wraith in hoodie and yoga pants. She pulls her blonde bangs down over her face. “Eat something,” she tells Madison, who sits at the counter, staring out the window.
“She never eats,” Glenn says tightly. “Make a smoothie. You can take it with you in the car. Your mother made me buy the damn machine. At least put it to use.”
“Leave her be.” Brenda steps between them. “She can get breakfast at school.”
“Can someone please tell me why I spent $800 on that thing? It sits there collecting dust.”
“I’m not hungry,” Madison whispers, gazing at the swimming pool in the backyard.
“Look at her.” Glenn is agitated; he needs a target. “She’s wasting away.”
“Please,” Brenda implores him. “I was the same way in high school. It’s genetic.”
“Genetic,” he repeats dismissively. “You were a runner. Runners are thin.”
Madison has returned to her dream, floating, surrounded by fog.
“Anyway.” He pours a cup of coffee. “I’m going to the office a bit later today.”
Brenda pulls at her bangs. “I’m going to yoga after I drop off Maddy. Can you put the laundry in the wash?”
“Sure.” He sips his coffee, slightly calmer.
They walk to the door, say their goodbyes.
Glenn waves woodenly as the car exits the drive.
*
A sea of eyes. Madison drifts ghostlike through the halls, only glancing up to check the numbers above the doors. She sits alone in the back of her classes, escaping notice. Her science teacher, a thin, high-voiced young man, engages in a lively discussion:
“Yes, there is life at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Which is surprising because of the extremely high pressure at those depths. Mostly tiny organisms in the seabed, but also larger life forms. There are sea snails, a family of ray-finned fishes in the order Scorpaeniformes. I’m going to write that on the board, and I strongly suggest you do the same, as it may be on Friday’s quiz. There are also amphipods, which are a sort of crustacean, like a shrimp. I’m going to write that down as well. Hint, hint….”
*
Driving past Zen Lotus yoga studio, Brenda is stung by guilt. Everyone there was so supportive in her time of need. They listened to her. Held her when she cried. Strange to think that was nearly a year ago. She pulls up her hood, pulls down her bangs, presses the gas.
Todd’s gray minivan is in the parking lot of Ginger’s Diner, their meeting place. Out of caution, she pulls in a few spots away.
He is slumped in their usual booth, gaunt and troubled. She slides in across from him. They hold hands across the table.
“A girl from Selwyn OD’d yesterday,” he whispers.
“That’s terrible,” she replies.
“Her parents were on TV with the police chief last night. They’re following leads.”
“You’ll have to be careful,” she says, squeezing his hand.
“No. I’m done. Told my guy this morning.”
Her body grows taut. “Do you have anything? Just to hold me over?”
“I’m done, Brenda.”
The crustaceans tear through.
*
Glenn descends the carpeted stairs to the basement, wondering if he was too hard on Madison. This year has been so difficult for her—for all of them.
As he tries to awaken a sense of compassion, his mind returns to money. In the end, it’s money, not compassion, that’s going to save them. Now that Todd is out, he must find someone he can trust to move the pills. Ambitious but not greedy. Glenn’s mind runs through everyone he knows—guys at the office, neighbors, gym acquaintances.
It’s nearly imperceptible at first, but as he reaches the bottom stairs, the sound grows louder. A layered humming, low and high, blended. Is it the washing machine? A generator? Entering the basement, he sees the source, hovering there in the center of the room. A globe of sapphire light with an iridescent web working furiously at its core.
He steps toward it, enthralled.
Within a few seconds, the globe morphs into a teenaged girl. Blue-streaked blonde hair. Red-framed glasses. Butterfly neck tattoo. He’s never seen her before, but Glenn somehow knows this is the girl from Selwyn. The girl that OD’d.
*
“My cousin used to hang out with her,” says Taylor.
“That’s so sad,” says Kendall. “Where did they find her?”
“In a changing room at the mall.”
Madison feigns interest as she pecks at a tepid burrito. It’s nearly inedible, but she hasn’t eaten since last night and is in danger of passing out. All that talk in science class about the depths of the Mariana Trench has made her uneasy.
“Was she dressed?” asks Kendall.
“How should I know?” Taylor snaps with snotty indignation.
Madison leaves the lunchroom and goes to a bathroom on the third floor. She sits in a stall and waits for another girl to leave. Once the bathroom is empty, she quickly cleans the toilet rim with antibacterial wipes from her backpack. She then gets to her knees, plunges two fingers down her throat and vomits into the still water.
*
“How could he do this to me? He knows I’m not well. I will never leave you or forsake you. I will never leave you or forsake you. He said he loves me. He made so many promises. We’ll go to the Florida Keys. Get clean together. I will never leave you or forsake you. I will never leave you or forsake you. I’ll take care of you. We’ll start over together. Raise Maddy together. I will never leave you or forsake you. I will never leave you or forsake you. Why do people lie to each other? Why do people hurt each other? He knows I’m not well. He knows I can’t get through the day anymore. I will never leave you or forsake you. Couldn’t he have saved just a few, at least until I find more? I will never leave you or forsake you. I will never leave you. I will never leave….”
Brenda is relieved to see the driveway empty.
Once in the house, she proceeds straight to the basement, where an emergency pill is stashed behind the hot water heater. In a more lucid state, she might have noticed the pile of dirty laundry on the floor beside the washing machine—just where she left it last night.
Her attention is soon drawn to the center of the room, where a sphere of blue light hovers just above the ground. Awestruck, she watches it transform into a huge crab, its black, long-stalked eyes scanning the room. An armored pincer slowly opens and closes. Clack, clack, clack….
*
Madison’s stomach churns as she studies the dinner Brenda left out for her. The plate is lovingly prepared with roasted salmon, fingerling potatoes and fresh corn on the cob. She sneaks a box of brownies into her backpack and carries the plate up to her bedroom.
Door locked, she sits on the floor and eats ravenously, tearing through salmon and potatoes. The darker kernels are like eyes, so she ignores the corn and unzips her backpack. Three brownies are consumed without pause. The fourth drops like an anchor into her gut.
She stands and looks in the mirror.
“Whale,” she whispers disgustedly, kicking the box under her bed.
Silently, she slips back downstairs, through the kitchen, into the basement, where her favorite bathroom awaits. Where no one will hear her heave.
The room hums softly, a living engine. Madison sinks to the floor, still, silent. Celestial light washes over her.
*
Sunset on the outskirts of a suburban town. Glenn, Brenda and Madison find themselves inexplicably drawn to the center of the empty swimming pool. Their son and brother, Sean Tyler Maddox, was three years old when he drowned here last August. Joining hands, they begin to cry.
A blue light slips unseen from their basement window and floats away.