LAUREN VOELTZ
Wonder of the World
My stepmom, Suzanne, gets up at 5 a.m. every morning to stack huge ice blocks in the front yard. I don’t know which ocean the ice blocks come from or how they get here every day.
Maybe her work will become the eighth wonder of the world. I don’t ask why she tries so hard. My little brother and I sit at the card table, watching her out the window. We eat off-brand corn flakes, the milk almost sour. We crunch while she strains her back.
The opaque ice drips into puddles, due to the Texas heat. But Suzanne must be a miracle worker.
Last Saturday, she managed to stack the blocks as tall as the water tower before the sun came up. When it melted, she didn’t pout. She took us swimming in it. And when the lake evaporated, we made mud angels.
Dad used to help her work on the monument. They’d laugh, salty sweat dripping and soaking the collars of their shirts. Their fingers were numbed and red from the ice when they came inside. Suzanne kept smiling, but Dad’s smile faded.
Maybe Suzanne is more resilient than he is. Maybe he is too tired to carry on. Suzanne never complains, even now. Even when her cup of coffee is lukewarm from sitting on the counter too long. Even though she is raising two kids that aren’t her own.
She cracks her neck and twists and pops her spine back into place, and it sounds like a car door slamming. Like Dad leaving without saying goodbye. She says we should forgive him, because he’s gone off to fight demons in Arizona–the world being what it is. Him being how he is. I don’t understand why he’s gone or what she means.
I only want him back, so we can be a family again.
When her coffee is gone, Suzanne stands and reaches for the sky. Her fingertips brush the ceiling, then her arms expand as wide as the house. I don’t understand how she can stretch so far.
Lauren Voeltz reads, writes, and drinks coffee; all (maybe) too much. You can find her work at Youth Imagination, trampset, reflex fiction and TL;DR. Follow her @mattnwife