Part 35: Cellar Solo

Previously in the Vines Inquiry— Harlow and Blevin continued fighting for their lives against a hungry pack of cougars. While Blevin tried to outsmart the cats in a cellar archive, Harlow fell into the Vines’ swamp-like pool; surrounded by chlorine fog and slobbering felines.

Harlow had no time. Not even a chance to think. Somewhere, in other universes, she knew that she’d already been eaten. Or had gotten up, almost made it to the stairs only for her Achilles tendon to tear as a mountain lion caught it with one claw.

She struggled on her stomach, ignoring the shame of how hard it was and the pain under her fingernails as she tore at the uneven grout between the deck tiles. The insides of both her knees scratched along the floor while her ring finger found the edge of the pool. She tumbled into the water, just as the cougar that had been sniffing behind her emerged from the fog out of the corner of her eye. 

It must have heard the splash, so Harlow fought to stay under as every instinct told her to surface. No, she was calm— just a quick dip in the pool on a hot summer night. She was years away from here, waiting for her next mojito to arrive instead of suffocating her prayers underwater, even as the tiny bubbles that escaped between her lips carried their wishes to the surface.

If the cougar came, it would come soon. She might have a small advantage. A second’s chance while the cat flailed. She could make it to the edge, pull herself up…hobble along the pool deck.

“What about the other one?”

It was her father’s voice, a baritone chord played on velvet strings. She considered an answer while the remaining air burned in her lungs. The sting of the foul water in her eyes gave way to the pains of her knees and elbows. What she was doing could not last. The center could not hold. 

Harlow let herself rise to the surface and waded, her chin just above the water’s horizon. The fog was heavier again, like her exertion had clouded the room. It felt like the vaporized chemicals in the air had coated her lungs. Her heart sped up, way more than it should from just swimming. Way more than it ever had. Her dress finally tied her legs, dragging her down, making her kicks futile. She heard a splash and whirled.

The fog was too thick. There’s something else in the pool!? She panted, tiny wheezing breaths coming in through her nose. A current flowed past her leg. 

There was something else in the pool. 

“Hey,” said a voice from the far side of the room. Harlow struggled around again, and there she was. Sitting upright, legs taut, on a pool lounger.

Her mother, Lillian. 

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Younger. Late-teens. She looked like Stella, or the reverse. In a two-piece swimsuit, no less. All sinew, abs and tanning oil. Harlow blinked and Lillian looked her proper age again. The two images meshed together, overlaid— a wet paper coaster that hadn’t dried right. Lillian leaned forward in the lounger with her People magazine folded over. She used one long finger to hold her place while another pointed at Harlow.

“Hey!” she said again, snapping. 

Harlow held her mother’s gaze and tried to talk, but it felt like if she opened her mouth, the whole pool would flow in. She gulped and whined, her tears mixing with the water Lillian looked around the deck, moving to stand, but she was stuck to the lounger. The back of her lugs had sealed with the vinyl, squishing an awful tearing sound into the room as she struggled. She stopped, focusing in on Harlow.

“I’m right here, Lolo.” Lillian’s voice sounded clear and close; as if she were in the pool, balancing her daughter’s feet on her knees while they spun around. “I’m right here. You’re fine, huh? Say it with me. ‘I’m fine.’” 

Harlow nodded. Stammered. She started to speak. 

“I’m—.” 

Behind her, the cougar snarled and batted at the water. It tested the surface again. 

“Momma, it’s gonna come in!” screeched Harlow.

Lillian couldn’t move. She reached out with both arms, trying to get to her daughter. Her youngest. Her left hand wouldn’t even let go of the magazine. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re fine,” said Lillian, like she was blowing on a scraped knee. “And I’m here. I’m almost here. Now, who are you, huh?” 

Harlow didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She waded closer to Lillian’s side of the pool. When she was a few feet from the edge, a cougar stalked out of the fog, paying not attention to Lillian. Harlow screamed and flinched back. 

“LoLo, tell me.” Lillian throat bulged under her skin as she held Harlow’s gaze, doing all she could to stop herself from glancing over to the starving animals. 

“I’m Harlow Voorhees.”

Lillian nodded. “Uh huh. Uh huh. And what does that mean? What are you?” 

Harlow waded, frantic, fighting to keep the tears back. To come up with an answer her mother would be proud of. The cougars paced.  

 “I’m tired,” she said, her voice glistening with tears. “I’m hurt.”

Lillian nodded, her lips set in a hard line. “Mhmm. What else? Run it down the list for me.”

“I’m gonna die,” cried Harlow. 

“Nope. No. C’mon now. Don’t tell stories. What else?”

“I’m wet. I’m crying…”

“That’s it. Keep going. No, no. Look at me. Only tell the truth. What else, LoLo?” Harlow could see the cougars’ reflection in her mother’s eyes, but Lillian would not blink. “What else?”        

“I’m breathing.” Harlow started nodding along with her mother. “I’m… I can do this. I’m determined.” She didn’t believe the words, but they came out. They floated under Harlow’s arms, keeping her up.

Lillian clapped once, loud enough to shake the foundations of the Big House and as piercing as a firework that could burn off all the wretched fog. 

“And what are you every day, my love? Not because you’re scared, or hurt, or wet. What are you, Harlow Voorhees?” 

Harlow looked down at herself, her tired body staying just above water. She knew the answer her mother wanted. It was what she wanted to be able to say, too. 

“I’m strong?” said Harlow. 

A question. Lillian raised an eyebrow. Not disapproving, a challenge. To dig. To try again. 

Only tell the truth, Lillian had said. 

“I’m scared.” Harlow’s tears broke through, running quick down her face to mix with the sweat and pool water, purifying the tiniest gulp of it. She nodded, certain. “I’m scared.”

“Yes, baby. Yes! Be scared! What else!” 

Lillian sat back in her lounger, a smile growing on her lips. She nodded and Harlow felt a phantom hug.

“I’m… I don’t want to be here, Momma. I don’t want to be here alone.”

“You’re not. Not even close. You’re scared and so am I, but we are not alone. You hear me? We are with you. Always. I am scared and I am strong, Harlow. Be here with me.”

Lillian looked down to the far end of the pool. Her face disappeared into a cloud of steam and her voice was far away; a mother shouting upstairs from down in the bar. She was speaking to someone else in the fog. A cougar pounced in that direction, but came out of the opaque mist a few seconds later, bitter.

“No, turn here! Take Scott Key!” said Lillian. A few beats later she turned back. “Just hold on, Lolo. Hold on. Thank god for Stella calling… Never mind. We’re almost here.” 

Harlow nodded and repeated the words to herself over and over. 

It was too much. All of this. The Inquiry, the Tears, the Gifts. Frank’s family was too far ahead. They had too much power. Even together, Harlow knew the three of them wasn’t enough.

Oh god, Harlow thought. As she repeated the fears in her head. As she remembered she wasn’t the only one who needed help. 

“Momma.” Harlow wiped her nose and ran one hand down towards her injured foot. It hurt to touch, but not enough to make her think this wouldn’t work. “I need you to do something for me. Please.”

“I almost can, LoLo. Just hold on.” 

“No, Momma. I promise. You can do it now. Remember the time they made me do gym? Even while I had a broken wrist? Do that.”

Lillian arched one perfectly illustrated eyebrow. She understood. 

“Harlow, is that really what you’re thinking right now?”

“It made an impact! Me and Frank could hear you down the hall. Just be loud.”

Lillian shook her head. “So one-dimensional.”

“It’s maternal.”

“Explains why I never saw Rosalind cussing out Sunderson.”

“Momma, please. Not now. I don’t need poetry.”

Lillian scoffed, but smiled. “Well, I’m not gonna half-ass it, am I?” 

Thirty seconds later, Harlow was almost to the other side of the pool while Lillian entered the fifth stanza of her diatribe.

“And you!” Lillian continued, an accusing finger pointed right at a cougar. “You know what, you Skimbleshanks-looking ass?” The cat tilted its head at her, possibly hurt, but definitely paying attention to Lillian over her daughter. “None of this is my baby’s fault. Look at my daughter’s dress. Wait! No. Don’t. Keep your beady little eyes on me.” The cat feinted, turning back towards Harlow. “I. Said. Me!” 

Lillian’s voice boomed, shunning the steam to the edge of the room.

“And answer the question. Does that dress look like something made for chlorine? Has all my daughter’s sartorial sense suddenly fled the coop along with Rosalind Vines’ ability to smile? Have I, perhaps, slipped on the tile, making this soulless, gauche monument to a Mykonos-deferred make sense?”

Harlow made it towards the edge of the pool. 

“Momma, what?”

Lillian didn’t break eye contact with the cats that came loping out of the fog to investigate the yelling woman. Each sniffed the air, deciphering the conflict between what they saw, heard and what they smelled.

Harlow made her move when her mother was somehow finally able to throw her magazine. The cats roared then, encircling Lillian. Harlow paused at the door to the staircase that led up, turning back towards her mother.

“Don’t you dare,” said Lillian. “You should already be gone.”

And so Harlow ran, shaking her head as she limped up the stairs. She tried to dislodge the guilt like it was the water trapped in her ears, to blink away the fear that sh'e’d left her mother to die.

Four cats bounded out of the fog then, encircling Lillian. Like her mother commanded, Harlow was already running. She shook her head as she limped up the stairs, disposing of the guilt; the thought that she’d left her mother to die. 

There’s no way. She was in a swimsuit, for god sake.

But that didn’t shake the fear from Harlow’s heart. The deep, familial knowledge that let her know wherever her mother was, Lillian was afraid.