The sun rolls over the bend of the hills as the birds sing their morning glory of a song. The grass rustles swiftly, a whispered dance that speaks to being alive. The life of the moon slowly retracts to its rest, as the life of the sun awakens to its day.
Just beyond the hill, 10 miles from town, sits a house. Perhaps others would like to call it a cottage, others a home, some, a cabin of sorts.
Although it is surrounded by much life, the grass that sits beneath it is brown and crisp- stagnant in the wind.
It is the soil that moves below.
Beyond the door that is locked three times, the staircase with creaky legs and painful splinters. Beyond the 6 bedrooms, the basement that sits below, the attic that sits above, and the fireplace with firewood always stacked. Beyond it all sits Mrs. Marium.
Marium Contell.
39 years of age, medium frame, a height of 5’11. Her skin sprinkled with kisses from the angels, her head filled with color from the sun gods.
Her eyes flutter open in the wake of it all. Slowly light begins to fill her eyes. She stretches her arms over head, arches her back and squirms her legs beneath the sheets.
Olive jumps up on the bed without a noise.
“Oh Olive! You sneaky little kitty!” Marium yawns as she scratches her cat's face-just below the chin.
She loves Olive because her fur never sheds, leaving her sheets, clothes, and hands completely free. She wonders how she got so lucky to have such a perfect cat, with such perfect fur, and such a perfect meow.
She won’t ask questions.
She'll just be grateful instead.
Marium slides the covers off and pulls open the blinds. She likes to blind herself with the sun’s sweet rays as soon as she wakes up.
Marium never understood people who were afraid of the sun. The people who wear hats, gloves and umbrellas on the perfect 75 degree day when it feels like the sun is simply brushing against your skin and soaking into your bloodstream. Marium believes those people must always be sad, sunshine in your blood can raise your happiness, it sure does for Marium.
And in fact, Marium would say those people have a greater risk of death. While it may be true that Marium herself might get skin cancer, she would much rather be joyous in the sun, then depressed, pale, and cold.
The hills roll beyond Mariums imagination. Patted green that looks so blank from here, yet is textured and detailed when it's so close to the touch. Although-Marium has never really known what the hills look or feel like so close as she finds herself most of the time tucked away in her cabin, watching from afar. She Imagines the grass between her fingertips. Marium thinks this concept is funny-how can a human imagine exactly how something feels, without ever touching it? She knows how an octopus would feel, she knows how her best friend's hair would feel, she knows how a hug from her husband would feel. She knows it all. She feels it all.
A hand brushes on her shoulder.
“John! How you scared me!” Marium didn’t even hear his steps behind him.
A big belly chuckle fills the room-”My deer my deer! I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted to give you your coffee!”
John hands Marium her tan coffee (she likes it with a splash of milk, with only a drop of honey). John makes it perfect every time. Marium takes a sip of the bitter butterscotch beverage as John simply holds his black in his right hand.
They walk down the stairs and Marium sees a continental breakfast laid out. Fresh sourdough John must have picked up from the market, raspberry jam, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit. Her favorite. Her eyes scan the kitchen as it sparkles with cleanliness. She loves how she never has to clean the kitchen.
“Should we wake the children?” Marium asks. Wiping her mouth clean of bread crumbs and red jam.
“Yes!” Let’s do it together.” Says John, “They love it when we do it together.” Marium wonders why John didn’t serve himself any breakfast, he must have eaten already.
Together, John and Marium climb up the stairs, Marium leads the way doing her best to not make any creaking noises on the stairs, John does it so silently, she can hardly tell he is behind her-Marium wonders how he is so quiet.
Marium sets her hand softly on Sam’s door. The oldest. The only boy. She peeks with the door slightly ajar. He sleeps splayed across his bed, somehow laying sideways, all covers and sheets scattered to the floor. Sam is a restless sleeper. Marium smiles at her wild cat of a boy, Marium realizes what a fine line there is between chaos and peacefulness. Little Sam with his body twisted and splayed, toys and legos across the floor, his hair poofy and wild, and yet through it all-he sleeps soundly, undisturbed-unbothered. Marium feels an overwhelming sense of love for her boy-she steps over the legos and action figures and hugs Sam closely. He remains asleep-he has always been a heavy sleeper.
She releases him and slowly he begins to open his eyes.
“Good morning boop.” She whispers.
“How’d ya sleep buddy?” John asks as he ruffles his hair.
Sam rubs his crusty morning eyes and stretches his limbs, “I dreamt I had invisible super powers.” He yawns. “And that I could go wherever, do whatever, be whatever I want, and you guys didn’t even see me or care…I liked being invisible.”
Marium and John chuckled softly under the breath.
“Well I don’t think that will be happening anytime soon, remember your parents have eyes everywhere…” Marium whispered into Sam’s ear.
“Yes, and if I went invisible I would not be able to show you my awesome superhero tricks.” Sam states.
“And I wouldn’t be able to pick you up and throw you up in the air like this!” John rumbles as he swoops little Sam up in his rough calloused hands, he picks him up with such ease, Marium begins to think Sam is as light as feather-near invisible.
She laughs as she watches her two favorite boys on the planet smile’s fill the room. Even though she stands two feet away-Marium sometimes feels like she is on an island watching from afar-or perhaps buried beneath a grave where she merely listens to the sounds above. She sometimes fears how much she loves and how close that love can turn to disappearance.
Call it mom guilt.
Call it mom love.
She watches Sam’s blonde hair fling into oblivion.
As Sam gets dressed and John packs the kids’ lunches Marium heads to wake Megs. Her little girl. Marium liked having a boy first, but secretly-she always wanted a girl too. Marium opens the door and is not surprised to see Megs up and at em with her clothes splattered all over the floor, she laughs at Megs one of a kind outfit today: her favorite T-shirt with ocean animals, a pink ballet tutu, one leg warmer, one rainbow sock, rain boots, and a leather jacket. She is currently deciding between braids, pigtails, and a headband it looks like. Megs twirls in front of the mirror inspecting her outfit. Marium wonders how long she can stand here before Megs notices her.
“Well goodness Ms. Megs! I think if I had a fashion show, I would choose your outfit to win first prize!”
“Mommy!!!!!!!!” Megs runs over at full speed and clashes into her mothers arms, Marium lets out a cross between a grunt and a laugh, her little girl has some power for being so small.
“Do you have pink lipstick mommy? Or purple! Oh my goodness! Maybe even green! Green lipstick!! It would match my rainbow leg warmers. Well I guess purple would match them too… and blue, and yellow… and orange! And red! And and….. Mommy should I just wear rainbow lipstick instead?” Megs grabs her cheeks in desperation.
Marium laughs and nuzzles her nose into her daughter's neck, while holding her body close against her chest, she breathes in the sweet smell of careless childhood and never wants to let it go.
“My Megsy you don’t even need lipstick! You look beautiful enough already! She says softly in her brown wavy hair.
“Ok! Thanks mommy. Now I must see daddy.” Megs squirms out from under her and skips away squealing with laughter. In a blink of an eye-she is gone.
Marium begins to snoop around her little girl's room. The splattered clothes from changing four times a day, stuffed animals and dolls of different dimensions, picture books covered with sharpie…she admires such a time of girl hood. As she fixes Megs’s bed, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her hair is frazzled and tangled, her pajamas have pasta stains on them and are crinkled like wrapping paper on christmas morning. Her lips look dry, she smells her armpits, she realizes she can’t remember if she took a shower last night.
But she must have, right? She always takes night showers, she knows because John is a morning shower person, and she-Marium-takes night showers.
She decides she doesn’t care about the stains or her hair. She has John, Sam, and Megs, what more could she ask for?
After semi-cleaning the room and getting herself more put together she heads down back to the kitchen, she wonders how John manages to keep the kids so quiet in the morning, they always seem to be screaming around her. As she peaks her head around the door into the kitchen she’s not surprised to see breakfast already cleaned up. What a treat! John is zipping up the kids lunches and packing his own work bag. Sam and Megs sit in the corner with their dog Burt.
“I sometimes wish we could spend the whole day together and you could just skip work.” Marium whispers in John’s ear.
“I do too, Monks… But I promise this summer when we go to Europe together-it will make every day of me going to work, and you writing your stories worth it.” he replies as he kisses her forehead. “Just think of all the fresh cooked pastries we’ll have, all the museums we will see, all the people watching we will do of snooty French people… all so soon.”
John and Marium loved to go to the zoo when they first met; he said she reminded her of a monkey, which led him to call her “Monks”. Marium always thought John was a big old grizzly bear, she likes to call him “Bubs”.
“I know. This fifth book won’t write itself” Marium sighs.
“And my company sure as hell can’t run itself” John winks.
“Marium quit her 9-5 job six years back to commit to writing books full time. She’s been on the New York Times Best Selling list 4 years in a row due to her bestselling series, she’s on the final book right now-but sometimes she misses the in person interactions from the office. Working from home, on top of a hill, can be quite lonely at times.
She observes her husband packing up his work bag and attempting to get on Megsy’s shoes as she wails on the floor and Sam climbs on top of him. She can’t help but feel like 10 million universes away-like she is watching her life from a TV screen. Sometimes Marium seems to float away from her body-her life-her job-her family, and watch it all from afar. She shakes her head to remind herself she is here. Her family is here. And she loves them.
“MOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYY ARE YOU TAKING US TO SCHOOL TODAY?????” Megsy begs as she climbs to the top of Marium’s shoulders.
“Of course I am! Don’t I always, my little munchkin?”
“Yes. But each day brings new possibilities. And you never know what can happen. For all I know mommy, I could become a unicorn and in that case you would never have to drive me to school again!”
“Well if you were to become a unicorn I think I would give away my car and ride you around everywhere!”
“Couldn’t that count as child abuse mom? I don’t think you should use your daughter as transportation. Plus, cars are much faster than unicorns.” Sam intrudes-he is very practical.
“Mommy could ride on my back! Plus I would be a flying unicorn!!!!!!” Megsy squeals.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“Yes”
“No.”
“Yes.”
The children began to hit each other and wrestle.
“Okkkkkkkayyyyyy munchkins,” Marium says. “Luckily you guys are still my human being children, and as long as that stays the same, we are off to school!”
They both kept wrestling, as if they didn’t hear a word she said.
“Come on. Stop it you two.” John sternly states. “Get your bags and get into the car.”
“LAST ONE THERE IS A ROTTEN EGG!” Sam shouts as he sprints out the door with his bag hanging on one shoulder.
Megsy just squeals after him. And after a kiss from John, Marium follows.
She drives the kids to school switching from The Beatles for Sam and death metal for Megsy. She can barely hear the music. She drives on autopilot. Her mind wanders off to the multiple other places it tends to go when you drive the same route at the same time five days a week. Suddenly she realizes she is pulling into the parking lot. She parks and begins to unbuckle Megsy from her seat and helps Sam with his bag. She sees the group of other mom’s gossipping in their little huddle not far off as she walks her kids to the front gate. It reminds her of high school sometimes. The desperation to be a part of the group that seems to know it all. The fear of going up and saying hi. She wonders how women can be so terrifying. She waves to them in a friendly manner. They stare at her for a split second. Like she is crazy. Like she doesn’t belong. Like she shouldn’t be out.
She drops her kids off. Kisses them goodbye. And walks away.
Marium used to think she was bad at making friends when she was younger. For solely one reason: she always seemed to be in the middle.
She remembers being four years old in preschool. She wanted to hangout with the kids who liked the chocolate flavored z-bars and got dirty in the sand and went crazy on the monkey bars, but she also just wanted to read, color and eat the chocolate chip flavored z-bars with the others.
In kindergarten she always tried to pretend to nap like some of her friends, but then felt a dire need to run and play with her other buddies.
When drama broke out in elementary school she always ended up being friends with both groups. She liked hearing both sides of the story, but it sometimes felt she was being fake to each friend group… or was she being real? She could understand the heads and tails of the coin, yet that left her unable to win the coin toss, and quite lonely at times.
She liked her artsy friends in highschool, but also loved her dancer friends.
She liked her outdoorsy adventures in college, but also wanted to go to a frat party sometimes.
But Marium has come to understand and learn to treat this trait of hers as a strength. Even if it leaves her feeling tugged at both sides, and partially distant from everyone. Marium has always treasured real valuable friendships and relationships. She hates things on surface level. What a gift that she can see every side of a story, it’s why she likes writing. She loves to be able to dissect an individual's brain, almost if she was that character herself.
She ends up back home. Her quiet little house on the hill. The grass looks browner compared to the morning.
She unlocks the door and walks in, the animals are quiet and don’t greet her. They never really do unless John or the kids are with her.
Her stomach grumbles so she opens the fridge for something to eat. It’s empty except for a moldy jar of pickles. She checks the expiration date. June 8th 2022. They expired two years ago.
She wonders how John made the breakfast this morning with no groceries.
She won’t ask questions. Marium is just grateful.
She settles on stale Ritz crackers, they're probably expired too, but with the amount of preservatives they put in them she figures it’s ok.
She walks up to the kids room even though they aren’t home. Their rooms are both squeaky clean. As if they didn’t even sleep there the night before. When did John get a chance to clean them?
She won’t ask questions. Marium is just grateful.
She finally forces herself to sit down at her desk that looks out at the front yard. She decides it’s time to write. Her published books that surround her are dusty and worn, she can’t remember the last time she opened them.
She cracks open her computer. And begins to type mindlessly.
She types until the sun begins to set. Shouldn’t John and the kids be home by now? Did she miss the kids getting dropped off by their ride home? She does that sometimes. And they usually are quiet after a school day. She decides to call John.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
John does not answer.
“Sam! Megsy!” She calls.
No response.
Maybe they are playing hide and seek. The kids love that game.
She searches the dusty kitchen cabinets, under the worn couch, behind the T.V. that only plays static noise, under her unmade bed, out back where the broken swing set is and toys lay scattered on the dead lawn.
“Perhaps John took them out to dinner.” She decides.
She won’t ask questions. Marium is just grateful.
The sky is now dark. John still has not answered.
This is where Marium finds herself most nights. Curled up in her bed, with her computer open in her lap, her frazzled hair that she once again won’t wash tonight, all on top of her little dead house, sat on top of a little dead hill.
She calls for her cat Olive.
Marium now remembers Olive died four years ago.
She calls for Burt.
Marum now remembers Burt ran away three years ago.
She calls for John. Her bear.
She calls for Mesgy. Her sunshine.
She calls for Sam. Her superhero.
No one responds.
Marium can’t remember where they went.
She looks at her document of the new story she is writing.
The only line that reads is: I miss them.
Who does Marium miss? Or is it the character she is writing about? What is she writing about? Where is J- Who is she looking for?
Marium realizes she is sleepy. She closes her computer. And shuts her eyes.
Marium won’t ask questions.
Marium is just alone.
Marium will have the answers again tomorrow.
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