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Randy had never liked the outdoors very much.
There was too much of it. It was too unpredictable. Too many bugs, and Randy didn’t know which ones stung you or which ones could fly in your eyes or up your nose. There were too many changes in the weather, and none were pleasant. If it suddenly got too warm, sweat would cling to him and coat his skin, making it slimy in a way he hated. If it suddenly started raining, he’d be drenched and cold until he could either go inside or change clothes. It was funny how no matter the weather, the consequences of it always seemed to be that Randy would end up getting wet somehow.
So it was really no surprise that Randy’s dad had insisted upon taking him camping for a weekend when he was a kid. He’d always loved torturing Randy like that.
Mom hadn’t been happy with the trip. She didn’t like the thought of them both being in the middle of nowhere all weekend with no way of contacting her, and outside no less, where they’d both be exposed to the elements. Well, more specifically, she didn’t like the thought of Randy being unreachable for days and exposed to the elements. Randy knew she’d probably be at least a little thankful for the break from Dad, which was nice to think about. Randy just wished her Dadless vacation wasn’t coming at his own expense.
Dad had always teased Randy for being a Mama’s Boy, as he called it, though his definition of being a Mama’s Boy was apparently ‘treating your mother as if you actually like her’. He constantly told Randy that such behaviors were ‘pussy shit’, that he had to toughen up, be a real man. Though Randy had seen what his father considered a ‘real man’ to be, and he didn’t like it one bit. To Dad, a real man was fear. A real man was intimidation. A real man was cruelty. And Randy didn’t want to embody any of that.
As he walked along a riverbank in the early hours of Sunday morning while Dad lay asleep in the tent, Randy realized that was probably why he’d been brought out here. Without Mom’s influence, Dad could get to work molding Randy into a ‘real man’. Randy tried not to panic at the revelation – there was only so much his dad could do to change him over a weekend, after all, and they were headed home tomorrow morning.
But still, Randy didn’t want to be anything like him. Didn’t want to be poisoned by whatever his dad had festering inside him that made him act the way he did.
That’s why he’d snuck out the tent, so he could do this without Dad lambasting him for wanting to show kindness to another person: he wanted to find something to take home to Mom. He was sure she’d like that. The problem was, he had limited options. There wasn’t exactly anywhere to shop around here, and at six years old, he didn’t exactly have the funds even if there were. So he was limited to whatever he could find in the woodlands where they’d set up camp.
Randy hated every second he spent searching. Morning dew covered everything, and it made Randy feel like he was wet all over from just being in close contact with it. Everything he picked up stuck to him, leaving dirt and wetness behind on the pads of his fingertips. He was spending more time wiping his little hands than he was finding a suitable gift for Mom.
He wished flowers would last longer, he thought as he traversed the uneven and slippery terrain. Flowers would have been easy. But they’d probably be half dead by the time he got them home to Mom, not to mention the mockery his father would unleash if he got wise to Randy picking flowers. Randy would probably get called a faggot again. Randy wasn’t sure what that meant, but Mom got really upset when Randy was called that by his father, and it only seemed to happen when Randy did something girly. So Randy tried not to do girly things. He didn’t like words that made Mom upset.
Soon, Randy found something wonderful at the edge of the rushing water: a perfectly oval shaped stone that was smooth to the touch. It fit perfectly in his tiny hand, and was cold in a comforting way. Cold in a way that made him forget how sweaty his palms were right now. How sweaty they usually were, to be honest. Mom probably wouldn’t like this stone as much as she liked flowers, but hopefully it could make her feel as calm as Randy was when he held it.
This was perfect. Which to Randy meant, ‘this will do before Dad wakes up and finds me’.
He was clutching it tight with a grin on his face when he heard twigs snapping nearby. He froze with a small gasp and shoved the acquisition in his pocket.
“Randy?” a low, unassuming voice came from behind him. His dad sounded calm today. He sounded like he was with people that weren’t Randy or Mom. It was strange. Randy wasn’t sure if he liked it. It felt wrong getting the fake version of his dad this morning. But Randy didn’t exactly have fond feelings for the real one, either.
“What are you doing out so early?”
He sounded friendly today. Today was one of his ‘pretending to be friendly’ days. Huh. Randy wondered how long it would last.
Randy turned around to face him, trying not to look too panicked. “I... I was looking for breakfast. For food.”
Dad frowned, eyebrow raised, and Randy tightened. A rush of relief ran through Randy’s little body when Dad’s face softened.
“We got plenty at the camp, son,” Dad said gently. Son. “Come on. You must have worked up an appetite.”
He was being so nice this morning. Randy figured he should be happy about that. But he wasn’t. He’d decided he wasn’t. It was way worse when Dad was being nice. It was putting Randy on edge even more than when he was being mean: because Randy didn’t know when the niceness well was going to dry out and Dad would be back to his real self. Not knowing when that switch was coming was terrifying. Randy could feel the terror growing in his chest now.
He reached into his pocket as he followed Dad back to the camp, rubbing his thumb over the stone he’d found, and was comforted by the thought of Mom receiving a gift when this whole scary trip was over.
On Monday morning, Georgia had a friend from work over.
She wouldn’t normally do this; she didn’t like having friends over when Randy’s father was here, so she never invited anyone. She didn’t want them getting wise to the fact that anything was wrong. That she was unhappy. That she’d trapped herself in an unhappy marriage. She didn’t want the pity. She didn’t want the judgement. She didn’t want confirmation of what she’d always known: that this was her fault. She let this go on for way too long, and now she couldn’t escape.
Or maybe she could. Someday...
No. Wishful thinking. She couldn’t entertain that. Not anymore – she had Randy to think about.
But this morning, Sadie from work had called asking if she wanted to have a coffee together, and for once Georgia felt comfortable offering her place as an option for that. Sadie had asked Georgia if she was joking at first. Ha. Georgia was honestly surprised that she wasn’t. God, it had been years since she’d had company over. Company that she wasn’t sharing with her husband, anyway.
So she’d made an effort: she’d cleaned up as quickly as she could, gotten her best tea set out for the occasion and had even sprayed some of her perfume around the living room. Her husband didn’t like her perfumes. Hopefully the smell would fade by the time he got home with Randy later today.
...But what if it didn’t? God, now she thought about it, maybe perfume hadn’t been the best idea.
Oh no, now she was panicking. Sadie was going to be here soon, and she was panicking. On the verge of tears. Ugh, she had to stop this. Sadie would ask questions if she saw Georgia all upset, and Georgia wasn’t sure if she could keep the truth to herself. It was getting harder to keep it all in. But she had to. It was better than facing how ashamed she felt for letting this happen. For bringing a kid into it all. Her kid.
Oh, Randy. Of course. That could help her calm down: she’d think of Randy. Randy, who would be home very soon. Randy, who was always in her corner. Randy, who wouldn’t turn out like his dad. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Please, God, don’t let him turn out like his dad. Please.
By some miracle in among all those panicked thoughts about Randy’s future, Georgia managed to calm herself down enough to enjoy a pleasant hour with her friend. Sadie seemed positively thrilled to finally be seeing Georgia’s living space. You’re always so secretive about it! she’d said after her second cup of oolong. Can’t believe how lucky I am today! Gonna tell all the girls at work, they’ll be so jealous of me!
Well, Georgia could definitely relate to the feeling of being jealous of all the women they worked with. They probably had husbands that loved them, because they weren’t stupid enough to have one that didn’t.
Georgia kept looking deeply into Sadie’s eyes as they sat together, and Sadie didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she kept any comments about it to herself. Georgia was looking for signs. Signs that Sadie could see how miserable she was. Signs that Sadie had figured out Georgia’s situation. Signs that Sadie was going to orchestrate a complicated but successful plan to get both Georgia and Randy out of here the second she was out of their house.
But that was just more wishful thinking, and Georgia really needed to stop that.
Sadie left almost exactly an hour after she’d arrived, and Georgia couldn’t deny that she’d been ushering her out a bit. She hoped Sadie wouldn’t take it personally, she just didn’t want her there when her husband got home. If he got home while Sadie was in the house, he’d put on the faux-friendly persona for her benefit. Georgia couldn’t handle seeing him the way he was with everyone else today. It would just make her even sadder when he dropped the façade and went back to how he was when it was just her and Randy.
After Sadie left and Georgia had spent a good amount of time afterwards panicking about any lingering scent of perfume, the door opened, and there were two sets of footsteps. One was lightweight and quick, like the pitter-patter of rain on a window. The other was slow and heavy, like being pressed between two walls in a narrow pathway. The former was much more welcome than the latter, because it came with the sound of Randy’s voice as he rushed down the hallway towards her.
“Mom!” he’d squealed, wrapping his arms tight around her waist. Georgia broke into a grin and returned the hug.
Her husband slipped off his boots in the doorway and walked towards them, giving her a small nod as he headed into the kitchen.
“Starving,” he grumbled, pulling a cupboard door open. Randy held Georgia tighter at the sound of his father’s voice. “What’s for dinner?”
“Whatever you boys like, you must be starved!” Georgia said far too brightly, far too high pitched. She always sounded like this when she was trying to avoid getting yelled at, and her husband knew it. “You’ve both been living off the land for days!”
“Fuck are you tryna say, that we couldn’t feed ourselves right out there?” her husband barked as he headed to the living room. “We do just fine without you, you know.”
Oh, is that why the first thing you did when you got home was demand I cook for you?
Georgia buried that thought deep, deep, and focused on Randy’s arms around her waist. Her son was home. He’d brought his damned father with him, of course, but as long as her son was home, everything would be fine.
“I got you something!” Randy announced in hushed tones, only releasing his mother once his dad had left the room. “It’s from the river!”
God, they’d camped next to a river? That was inspiring more than a little fear. What if Randy had wandered off and fallen in? And apparently he had wandered off: by the way Randy was attempting to hide his riverside gift, his father hadn’t been accompanying him. Good lord. Georgia would panic properly about this later, after she’d had a proper reunion with her son.
Randy pressed a small, smooth stone into the palm of Georgia’s hand. Georgia... was confused. She rarely got gifts, let alone stones found in rivers. Georgia’s first instinct was to panic about all the sorts of diseases Randy could have caught from playing by or (god forbid) in a river, but the urge to relay all these possibilities to Randy died when she saw the look on his face.
He looked so... excited. So thrilled to be giving her this stone that he’d found. A stone he’d found just so he’d have something to give her by the end of the trip. The image of Randy wandering around a riverbank to find a stone for her was suddenly a little less terrifying than before. Just a little.
She gave Randy a small smile and clasped her fingers around the stone.
“Thank you, Randy,” she said gently, making a mental note to clean both the stone and her hand later. “I’ll keep it with me for good luck.”
And she did.