Grandma, he called, and the figure paused, half in the light, herself become a half-moon. Grandma, he called again, wait for me.

She began moving again, and he ran after, tried not to lose sight of her. She could fade away so easily, a trick of the light. Wait for me, he called. And she disappeared, stopped in a shadow perhaps.

His lungs and throat ragged, no breath left at all, but he went as fast as he could toward where he had last seen her. The forest stretching, the space becoming farther. He thought he saw movement again, a dappling, but couldn’t know for sure because of his own movement.

Grandma! he called. Wait for me! But he’d lost her, vanished into the shadows. He was coming close to where he’d seen her, and there was nothing. Whatever he’d seen, he’d only imagined it.

The trailhead began here, a narrower path up through forest and then exposed ridgelines of granite. The trail went for miles, and she could be anywhere along it. Or she might have gone the other direction, down to the creek, and followed that, or could be walking along the highway, even.

Galen didn’t feel powerful at all, didn’t feel he could extend into this forest. He was limited to one tiny point. But he was committed now to this path, and he hoped she would be on it.

A path of memory, a trail he’d followed hundreds of times from when he first began. The tree at the first bend, the open section with low growth on either side, the boggy ford across a small creek, the cabbagey plants growing out of thick mud, wide curls and folds to their leaves. The short section of meadow, the trail turning uphill again and now the granite steps, loose rocks but these low shelves, wound with roots. The scraping of his shoes, grinding the same steps from his earliest memories, but never before in moonlight. A familiar place become foreign.

Galen climbed the granite, the twists and turns in a narrow chute with growth in close on both sides, and nearly stepped on his grandmother.

Aah! he yelled. Holy shit. You scared me.

Galen, she said. With her light sweater and slacks, sitting on the trail, she looked like a piece of granite, a small boulder.

Wow, he said.

I don’t know if I want to walk much farther, she said. I’m getting tired, and I’m cold. Why are we hiking at night?

We can go back.

But your mother is up ahead. We can’t just leave her. She won’t know to turn around.

She’s not up there.

Yes she is. She’s the one who wanted to go on this hike.

Grandma. It’s only me and you.

No. Your mother is just ahead of me.

Mom is back at the cabin.

But I was just following her. If she’s not up there, then what am I doing? Where am I going?

We’re just taking a hike, just me and you.

Galen’s grandmother stood up and looked away to the side, past all the small growth in close and out to mountain ranges that seemed to float on their own against the sky. It’s not a hike, is it, she said.

No.

I was lost.

Yes.

And I would have just kept going, thinking your mother was ahead of me.

Maybe.

And why did I come out here? Why did I leave in the middle of the night?

Because Mom and Helen were fighting. You wanted to get away, which was a good choice. I think you did the right thing.

Do you know what it’s like to not remember?

No.

It’s like being no one, but still having to live anyway.

Grandma.

It really is that bad. It’s like being no one. You think you’re someone now, but it’s only because you can put your memories together. You put them together and you think that makes something. But take away the memories, or even scramble them out of order, and there’s nothing left.

You remembered this trail. And you remembered the cabin when we first arrived. You remembered how to turn on the water.

Did I? Galen could see her smile for a moment. I can remember places, I think. I do remember this trail. And I can recognize people. I haven’t forgotten who you are. I just can’t remember anything that’s happened.

Well you’ve been a wonderful grandmother. I have a thousand great memories of time with you.

Galen’s grandmother put her hand up to her mouth and closed her eyes. Galen looked away and waited. The mountains floating independently. The air colder now.

A deep exhale from his grandmother, and another. Okay, she said. Let’s go home.

Chapter 17

In the morning, Galen’s mother announced they were packing up and leaving.

But we’re having so much fun, Helen said. I’m really enjoying the cabin. Couldn’t we stay another day or two?

Why are we leaving? Galen’s grandmother asked.

I’ll pack the kitchen, Galen’s mother said. Mom, you can help me.

I’d like more bacon, Jennifer said.

Breakfast is over.

No it’s not. My daughter wants more bacon, so fix her more bacon, little Suzie-Q.

Breakfast is over.

Mom can do it then. Mom, fix your granddaughter more bacon.

Don’t speak to me that way.

Let me tell you a little story, Mom. There was a cat. Do you remember the cat?

What are you talking about?

Mom, ignore her. Let’s pack the cupboards. I’ll go get the boxes from the trunk.

This cat was blind and deaf. Outrageous shit happened in cat-world all the time, but the cat didn’t hear or see anything.

We’re going home, Helen, and if you want a ride in my car, you’ll stop right now.

Golly, sis, I’m only trying to talk about my feelings.

I’ve heard enough. I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving in ten minutes. Ten minutes. All this kitchen crap can stay. You each have ten minutes to get in the car with your stuff. Grab your purse, Mom, and Galen will help you with your bag.

Then she was gone up the stairs.

Well, Helen said. I guess we’re leaving. It is her car, after all, and she has the keys. It’s hard to change that.

I don’t know what’s happening.

Your daughter is trying to rescue you from me. But I’m your daughter, too. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? And a tad unjust, given the past.

I don’t understand.

Yeah, well, that’s nice for you. I think you’ve intentionally forgotten everything. Because how can you be responsible if you can’t remember?

Let’s go, Grandma, Galen said. I’ll help you pack your bag in your room.

It’s the new Suzie-Q, to the rescue.

We have to go now, Grandma.

What I want, Helen said, since that’s what everyone’s interested in, what I want is for everything to be undone. That’s the level of responsibility I’m looking for.

Galen took his grandmother’s arm and she rose, finally. I’m sorry, Helen, she said. Whatever it is, I’m sorry, okay?

Don’t give me that snotty attitude, Mom. I’ll be satisfied when you can go back and make everything not have happened. That’s when you’ll have apologized to me.

Galen pulled his grandmother away into the front room and then the bedroom. He helped her pack her small bag with a few bits of clothing.

I don’t feel well, she said.

What’s wrong? he asked. Are you sick?

No. Not sick, I guess. But I don’t feel right. I feel awful.

I’m sorry, Grandma. He zipped up the bag and handed her the tan purse. That’s everything, he said. We’ll go out to the car now. Follow me.

He was ready to fight Helen if he had to, but she hadn’t come into the front room yet. He and his grandmother scooted along the space between hide-a-bed and wall and made it outside. He put her bag in the trunk and opened the front passenger door.

We’re leaving now? she asked.

Yeah. Just a few minutes. I’ll be right back.

Okay, she said, and sat down, and he closed the door and she waited there with her purse on her lap.

They were in the front room now, busy gathering their stuff, not paying him any attention. He made it up to his bedroom and his mother was at the top of the stairs, her suitcase in hand.