Blind Lake

Rows of town houses stretched off to the right and left of her. Next door, Mrs. Colangelo was shoveling her driveway. Tess pretended not to see her, worried that Mrs. Colangelo would ask her to help. But Mrs. Colangelo paid no attention to Tess and seemed lost in her work, red-faced and squinty-eyed, as if the snow were her own personal enemy. White clouds leapt from the shovel blade and dispersed in the wind.

The undisturbed snow on the front lawn came up almost to Tessa’s shoulders. I’m small, she thought. Her head rose above the mounded dunes only a few feet, making her feel no taller than a dog. A dog’s-eye view. She restrained an urge to leap and bury herself in whiteness. She knew the snow would get down the collar of her jacket and she would have to go back inside that much sooner.

Instead she walked in big labored moonsteps to the sidewalk. The main road had been plowed, though fresh snow had already deposited a thin new blanket over the asphalt. The plows had pushed up windrows too tall to see over. The tree in the front yard was so freighted with snow that its limbs had drooped into cathedral arches. Tess pushed her way underneath and was delighted to find herself in a sort of perforated cavern of snow. It would have been a perfect hideout, except for the cold air that wormed its way under her snowsuit and made her shiver.

She was under the tree when she saw a man walking up the street — the sidewalks were impassable — toward the house.

Tess guessed at once that this was the boarder. He wasn’t dressed very warmly. He paused to check the snow-encrusted, semilegible numbers of the town houses. He walked until he was in front of Tessa’s house; then he took his hands out of his pockets, wallowed through the windrows, and made his way to the door. Tess shrank back in the tree shadow so he wouldn’t notice her. By the time he rang the bell there was snow up past the knees of his denim pants.

Tessa’s mother answered the door. She shook hands with the stranger. The man brushed off the snow and went inside. Tessa’s mother lingered on the doorstep a moment, tracing out Tessa’s footprints. Then she spotted Tess under the tree and aimed her finger at her, pistol-style. Gotcha, cowgirl, Tessa’s mother always said at times like this. This time she mouthed the words.

Tess stayed under the sheltering tree for a while. She watched Mrs. Colangelo finish shoveling her driveway. She watched a couple of cars come down the street at a careful, tentative speed. She decided she liked snowy winter days. Every surface, even the big front window of the house, was opaque and textured, not at all reflective. And in this dearth of mirror surfaces she was not afraid of suddenly seeing Mirror Girl.

Mirror Girl often posed as a reflection of Tess. Tess, caught unawares, would find Mirror Girl gazing back at her from the bathroom or bedroom mirror, indistinguishable from Tessa’s own reflection except in the eyes, which were questioning and urgent and intrusive. Mirror Girl asked questions no one else could hear. Idiotic questions, sometimes; sometimes adult questions Tess couldn’t answer; sometimes questions which left her feeling troubled and uneasy. Just yesterday Mirror Girl had asked her why the plants inside the house were green and alive while the ones outside were all brown and leafless. (“Because it’s winter,” Tess had said, exasperated. “Go away. I don’t believe in you.”)

Thinking about Mirror Girl made Tess uneasy.

She began to make her way back to the house. The front lawn was still full of unspoiled white expanses of snow. Tess paused and pulled off her gloves. Her hands were already cold, but since she was going inside it didn’t matter. She pushed both hands into the paper-white unbroken snow. The snow took the imprints impeccably, mirror images of her hands. Symmetrical, Tess thought.

When she got to the door she heard voices from inside. Raised voices. Her mother’s angry voice. Tess eased inside. She shut the door gently behind her. Her boots dropped clots of icy snow on the carpet ru

Her mother and the boarder were in the kitchen, invisible. Tess listened carefully. The boarder was saying, “Look, if it’s a problem for you—”

“It creates a problem for me.” Tessa’s mother sounded both outraged and defensive. “Fucking Ray — !”

“Ray? I’m sorry — who’s Ray?”

“My ex.”

“What does he have to do with this?”

“Ray Scutter. The name is familiar?”

“Obviously, but—”

“You think it was Ari Weingart who sent you here?”

“He gave me your name and address.”

“Ari means well, but he’s Ray’s puppet. Oh, fuck. Excuse me. No, I know you don’t understand what’s going on…”

“You could explain,” the boarder said.

Tess understood that her mother was talking about her father. Usually when that happened Tess didn’t pay attention. Like when they used to fight. She put it out of her mind. But this was interesting. This involved the boarder, who had taken on a new and intriguing status simply by being the object of her mother’s anger.

“It’s not you,” Tessa’s mother said. “I mean, look, I’m sorry, I don’t know you from Adam… it’s just that your name gets thrown around a lot.”

“Maybe I should leave.”

“Because of your book. That’s why Ray sent you here. I don’t have a lot of credibility in Blind Lake right now, Mr. Carmody, and Ray is doing his best to undermine what support I do have. If word gets around that you’re rooming here it just confirms a lot of misperceptions.”

“Putting all the pariahs in one place.”

“Kind of. Well, this is awkward. You understand, I’m not mad at you, it’s just…”

Tess imagined her mother waving her hands in her well-what-can-I-do? gesture.

“Dr. Hauser—”

“Please call me Marguerite.”

“Marguerite, all I’m really looking for are accommodations. I’ll talk to Ari and see if he can set up something else.”

There was the kind of long pause Tess also associated with her mother’s periodic unhappiness. Then she asked, “You’re still sleeping in the gym?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh. Well, sit down. At least get warm. I’m making coffee, if you like.”

The boarder hesitated. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

Kitchen chairs scraped across the floor. Quietly, Tess stepped out of her boots and hung her snowsuit in the closet.

“Do you have a lot of luggage?” Tessa’s mother asked.

“I travel pretty light.”

“I’m sorry if I sounded hostile.”

“I’m used to it.”

“I didn’t read your book. But you hear things.”

“You hear a lot of things. You’re head of Observation and Interpretation, right?”

“The interdepartmental committee.”

“So what does Ray have against you?”

“Long story.”

“Sometimes things aren’t what they look like at first.”

“I’m not judging you, Mr. Carmody. Really.”

“And I’m not here to put you in a difficult position.”

There was another silence. Spoons clicking in cups. Then Tessa’s mother said, “It’s a basement room. Nothing fancy. Better than the gym, though, I guess. Maybe you can stay there while Ari makes other arrangements.”

“Is that a real offer or a pity offer?”

Tessa’s mother, no longer angry, gave a little laugh. “A guilt offer, maybe. But sincere.”

Another silence.

“Then I accept,” the stranger said. “Thank you.”

Tess went into the kitchen to be introduced. Secretly, she was excited. A boarder! And one who had written a book.

It was more than she had hoped for.

Tess shook hands with the boarder, a very tall man who had curly dark hair and was gravely courteous. The boarder stayed drinking coffee and chatting with Tessa’s mother until almost sunset, when he left to get his things. “I guess we have company at least for a little while,” Tessa’s mother told her. “I don’t think Mr. Carmody will bother us much. He might not be here for too long, anyway.”