U Is for Undertow

black turtleneck, torn black tights, and a long skirt. She’d kicked off her Birkenstocks and those lay in the middle of the room. Her earrings were big silver hoops. In the tangled mass of dark hair, she now sported a series of small braids with beads woven into the ends. She was no longer the petite, thin creature she’d been. She had an earthy air about her, the residual weight of two pregnancies having caught up with her.
    Most alarming was the boy, Shawn, who was ten years old now, according to Deborah’s calculations. His dark hair was shaggy, worn long enough to brush his shoulders. His cheeks were so gaunt he looked like a young Abraham Lincoln. He had Shelly’s huge hazel eyes set in darkly smudged sockets, which gave his face the solemnity of a lemur’s. He was tall for his age, and very thin. His flannel shirt was pale from wear or too many runs through the washing machine. The cuffs rode above his wrists. His hands were thin and his fingers were long and delicate. His pants hung on him.
    He’d found a spot in one corner of the room and he had his nose buried in a copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune . Deborah had read it two years before, when it first came out, and she was surprised that his skills were so proficient. Maybe Shelly’s homeschooling hadn’t been so bad after all. It was possible he was only hiding in the pages, pretending to read so he could observe what was going on without having to participate. He glanced at her once and then went back to his book. She wondered how much he remembered of her hostility toward him when he was a child of six. She’d eventually seen him in a kinder light, but her early disapproval had been savage and must have wounded him. She was ashamed that she’d blamed him for his behavior when Shelly was the one who should have been held accountable.
    Greg crossed the room and gave her a bear hug. “Good to see you,” he said. “We were on our way south and thought we’d stop by. I hope you don’t mind.” He was treating their arrival as a common occurrence, like they popped in every week.
    When Deborah put her arms around him, tentatively returning his embrace, she could feel his rib cage through the fabric of his shirt. She held herself stiffly, unaccustomed to the display of affection. She didn’t reciprocate his feelings, or what he pretended to feel.
    He stepped back. “Whoa. What’s this? Are you mad about something?”
    “You took me by surprise. I would have appreciated a call,” she said. She could have kicked herself for the stupidity of the comment. This was like coming face-to-face with home invaders, making nice in hopes they wouldn’t slaughter you where you stood.
    Shelly snorted. “Yeah, sorry about that. Like we have a phone on the bus.” She hadn’t said “a fucking phone,” but the expletive was buried in her tone.
    Deborah ignored her, addressing her attentions to Greg. “When did you get in?”
    “Fifteen, twenty minutes ago. Long enough to use the bathroom and take a look at what you’ve done. New paper and paint. The place looks great.”
    “Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”
    “We figured you were out running errands. Anyway, we needed time to cool it after being on the road.”
    “Can I fix you something to eat?”
    Shelly said, “Don’t bother. We already looked in the fridge. What a waste.”
    “I’m sure I have something. I went to the store yesterday and stocked up for the weekend. What were you thinking of?”
    “Nothing that involves cruelty to animals,” Shelly said.
    Greg said, “We’re vegans. No meat, no dairy, no eggs, no animal products of any kind.”
    “In that case, I guess you’ll have to have your meals somewhere else. I don’t know the first thing about vegan cooking.”
    Shelly sounded put-upon. “We don’t have the money to eat out. We used all our cash to pay for the trip.”
    Greg said, “We left San Francisco this morning and drove straight through.”
    “Ah. Is that where you’ve been? We had no idea you were so close.”
    Shelly said, “Something else while we’re on the subject.” She pointed at Greg, then Shawn, and then herself. “He’s Creed, he’s Sky Dancer, and I’m Destiny.”
    Deborah lowered her gaze, keeping her expression neutral. She couldn’t wait to tell Annabelle, who’d howl with laughter. “I see. Since when?”
    “Since we realized our birth names were completely meaningless. We each chose a name that represents the future,