“Departures” is a supernatural thriller and love story published as a serial novel with new episodes dropping every Tuesday morning. Anyone can read or listen for free. Paid subscribers gain early access to new episodes. Watch the trailer or visit the table of contents to browse all the published episodes.
Previously…
In the last episode, Wild plunged into a mind-bending trip fueled by a heroic dose of Ayahuasca where he experienced the horror of his family’s legacy and the joy of getting to be in June’s presence once again. He had hoped for some magical cure the trip might bring, but after he came down those hopes were dashed when, holding Raina’s hand, he clearly saw her death date.
“I have to pee pee.”
Millie tugged on his hand, first gently, then with some urgency to get his attention. Wild was in sensory overload as he stood with a thousand-mile stare into the labyrinthian landscape of molded plastic tunnels, ladders, and slides that led to a pit of plastic balls in primary colors roiling with squealing children who dove and surfaced like otters.
“Uncle Wild, I have to go… Now!”
Wild looked down at Millie’s face, as red as one of the balls in the play set from which she had just emerged.
“Oh, okay darlin’. Let’s go find the restroom in this funhouse.”
He navigated them out of the play area and back through the restaurant which was as hot as a public-school cafeteria and smelled just as bad. Wild’s head was throbbing, and he was nauseous from eating the pizza that tasted as though it had been pulled out of the freezer and cooked without removing the plastic.
“Here we are,” he said when they reached the door to the women’s restroom. “I’ll wait right here.”
“I can’t go by myself, silly.”
Wild was unsure exactly how his sister had convinced him that he could take care of Millie alone so she and June could spend the day at the spa, but she had. Abby had resisted having a nanny and Wild appreciated her trying to be the kind of hands-on parent they didn’t have growing up. He loved his niece and while it terrified him to handle her all on his own, he wanted June to have some fun. She was possibly more anti-social than he was, and she seemed content to spend what free time she had with him alone for their first two years of marriage. He would have happily accepted this if she had decades to meander through life, accumulate a catalog of experiences, and make lasting friendships. But she didn’t. He would have preferred she bond with someone other than his family, but Abby had shown a real interest in wanting to spend time with her. Like his parents, Abby was just happy to see him doing something normal with someone as great as June. With no nanny, his brother-in-law Gerry traveling for work as always, and their mother, on a tour of the wine country in France, that just left Wild to take care of Millie.
Like all men’s bathrooms, it was a horror show. Wild found that no amount of toilet paper was enough to cover the seat for his little Millie so he awkwardly bent over and held her up over the bowl so she could pee. He both marveled at the force of her stream and cursed the splatter it left all over his pants. She giggled and that somehow made it all okay. They washed up and made it back out into the head-throbbing den of arcade games, screaming kids, and syrupy kid music that blasted through speakers that seemed to produce nothing but lobotomizing mid-range.
“What do you say we get out of here, Mills?”
She looked up at him thoughtfully, as if judiciously weighing the merits of his proposal before shaking her head and tearing off back in the direction of the play area. Wild followed and resumed his post on a hard, narrow bench beside a dad in reading glasses who seemed disproportionately absorbed by a business book on how to be a better manager. Wild wished he’d had the foresight to bring a book but doubted he would have been able to read for fear of losing sight of Millie. She was precious, the only Thorne grandchild. After the miscarriage, Abby was told she would not be able to risk another pregnancy.
Wild understood children and loved their company because he was, in many ways, a child himself. He had never been a fan of growing up and doing grown up things and yet, despite his best efforts, Wild was officially a grown up with a wife and a house with a lawn that needed to be mowed once a week. But none of these things scared him quite as much as the real milestone of adulting which was becoming a parent.
June had become less and less subtle in her hints that she wanted to have a baby. Six months earlier, she had gone off the pill, claiming she was tired of the havoc it wreaked on her body. The acne, headaches, nausea, and bloating were the worst. Wild was supportive but it had made sex with her feel like Russian roulette with her always hoping for the live round and him carefully counting and playing the odds. Neither of them was a fan of condoms and they always appeared at the last possible moment like the saber of a matador but having the opposite effect. On more than one occasion, he had succumbed to her impassioned urging and finished inside her on days it was far from safe to do so. In the weeks that followed those lapses in willpower, he lived in a private hell waiting for her to bleed, all the while knowing that she was probably picking out paint colors to transform the extra room into a nursery.
Wild loved children but not as much as he loved June, and he was loath to share the precious few years she had left with anyone else. Also, the thought of raising a child on his own in the impenetrable shadow of grief that would follow his wife’s death was simply impossible. So, he would continue to live as a divided man, containing his dark secret and trying to keep it from leaching away everything good from their life together.
He was shaken from his brooding contemplation when he realized Millie was having an altercation with a little boy in the ball pit. She was making a high-pitched keening sound and hugging herself. He pulled back the netting and waded in, parting plastic balls and children as he went. When he reached Millie, he couldn’t see any real damage, and her cries turned into shuddering sobs as he pulled her to him. The boy, almost a head shorter than Millie, was crying too though with considerably less gusto. When Wild was sure Millie’s injuries were mostly in the feelings department, he turned to the boy and noticed immediately that his were not. He had an angry oval mark on his tiny forearm roughly the size of Millie’s mouth.
“Millie, did you bite this boy?”
Millie buried her chin in her chest.
“Come here, son. Let me take a look at that,” he said, reaching for the boy.
When he touched the child’s arm, he immediately regretted it. The spell hit him hard and fast and took him down, like a belly flop off the high dive. May 26, 1992. It was less than a year away. Wild pitched forward onto his knees, his head in his hands as if that would stop the throbbing in his brain that felt as though it were trying to push out of his skull.
“Uncle Wild, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to….”
Wild was aware he couldn’t lose it there in the middle of a child’s jungle gym and he struggled to raise himself back up on his haunches. The jagged, crimson shards in his mind’s eye were melting into a swirl of blue-gray blobs like cooling magma. He opened his eyes, and the small boy was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes as big as the litter of balls that surrounded them. Wild looked around in horror like a man thrown into a tank with fifty sharks only these were kindergartners with birthday cake smeared on their cheeks. He was suddenly filled with rage as he turned to Millie.
“What are you doing biting this little boy? Answer me? Answer me now, Millie Annabelle.”
His words landed harder than if he had struck her and he immediately regretted it. He had never once raised his voice with her. She dissolved into real tears this time and the boy started up all over again. He reached out to touch Millie’s arm to make an apology, but she shrugged away from him, her face pinched and angry. He turned back to give the boy his full attention.
“It’s okay, buddy. I’m sorry she did that. Millie knows better. Here, lemme see how bad it is.”
The boy shied away, pulling the arm with the bite mark to his chest. He was one of maybe three black children in the place. Even at six years old, it was clear he had developed a healthy distrust for white people. Wild’s mind was racing through a maze of possible futures and his heart was galloping to keep up. It was as natural a thing to do as it was futile. It didn’t matter which turns this boy or his parents would make in the maze, it would end the same way. Wild felt tears coming and clinched his teeth to bite them back. He took some deep breaths, aware that he must be freaking the little boy out. He tried to remember what June had told him. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t his job to fix it or change it, only to be a comfort. Fuck that. Fuck that. The anger came back again.
“What’s your name?” he asked the boy.
“Marvin.” The boy’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Okay Marvin, I’m real sorry Millie bit you. She thinks she’s some kinda tiger sometimes. Do you ever think you’re a wild animal?”
Marvin shook his head slowly but didn’t speak.
“Where’s your mama?”
The boy pointed through the netting to a booth at the far end of the restaurant by the arcade where a young black woman was seated alone, with books and papers strewn across the table. She was pouring over a large volume in her lap.
“Okay, Marvin. Let’s go see her and explain the tiger that bit you.” He grabbed Millie’s hand for emphasis.
The mother didn’t look up until Wild was standing over her, flanked by the children on either side.
“Excuse me, sorry to disturb you…” he said.
The woman looked up suddenly and her face spun through a slot machine of emotions– annoyance, surprise, and forced politeness before landing on wariness.
“Marvin, what did you do?” She thrust the book onto the table and pushed out of the booth.
“Marvin here didn’t do a thing. I’m afraid the one in the wrong is this one,” Wild said, putting a hand on Millie’s shoulder. “They were playing over there, and she got carried away and bit your son.”
The mother didn’t look at Millie or Wild, only at her son as she pulled him to her. She studied the bite mark which had already begun to fade. She caressed it gently, then looked up into his face sternly.
“So, this little girl just bit you for no reason at all. Is that what I’m supposed to believe? You didn’t do a thing to provoke her?”
Marvin didn’t respond except to stare down more intently at his tiny Nikes.
“I bited him cause he pushed me down,” Millie blurted.
“I see,” the mother said.
“You can’t just go around biting people, Millie. Your mouth is good for other things like making words. Now say you’re sorry to Marvin.”
She frowned and furrowed her brow then looked down and whisperer, “I’m sorry I bited you.”
The boy nodded without looking up. His mother nudged him, and he whispered sorry. The woman sighed and looked up, meeting Wild’s gaze for the first time. She was beautiful in a kind of fierce way and was either his age or younger but the shadows under her weary eyes made her seem much older. He steeled himself, uncertain what outcome he was hoping for, and stuck out his hand.
“I’m Wild,” he said.
“Are you?” she smiled in a wry way that changed her face completely.
“That’s my name, unfortunately. Millie here is my niece. I didn’t realize babysitting her today would require animal wrangling.”
“They’re 90% animal at this age,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Eileen.”
Her grip was firm and steady as someone who knows how to navigate the complexities of the world. Her date was so far into the future that it presented in Wild’s mind as a footnote which came as a great relief at first. He hadn’t let go of her hand and her smile was beginning to waver. He dropped it and nodded in the direction of the table.
“You always bring along this much light reading?”
Before she could respond, Millie tugged at Wild’s hand. He looked down. She was pulling in the direction of the play area. He nodded and she took off. Marvin followed, but only after getting the nod from his mom. After they were gone, she turned to Wild.
“I’m cramming for an exam on Monday. I’m in law school.”
Wild wanted nothing more than to leave her to it, but his feet remained planted. He cast about for some way to keep the conversation going but could only think of the boy. Was his father around? There was no ring.
“Better you than me. I couldn’t get done with school fast enough. Your son, he’s a cutie. I’m sorry for what happened. I should have been watching…”
“Not at all. He’s tough, used to holding his own with his older cousins.”
“So, you got family here in town. That’s nice. I can’t imagine how hard you must have to study to get a law degree.”
“I don’t mind the studying.”
“Really?” he said.
It was clear she wanted to get back to it and to be left alone, but Wild couldn’t just walk away so he continued to smile hoping his silence would be an invitation for her to keep talking.
“It’s the working too that wears me out,” she said. “I feel so guilty all the time cause Marvin’s always with his grandma.” She paused and looked down, embarrassed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“Nah, please. Save me from having to go back in there.” He gestured toward the jungle gym. “Can I sit?”
They talked for another hour while the children played and by the end, Wild had a full picture of her life. She was warm but had a dry and very sharp sense of humor likely honed over the course of years of having to cut through all the bullshit any woman, not to mention a black woman had to if she wanted to carve out a place for herself in a world dominated by the men Wild had grown up playing Lacrosse with. He shared very little about himself until he saw an opportunity.
“You know, my family’s got a number of businesses that I bet could use some legal help. I could talk to my brother-in-law. Might pay better than the restaurant and give you some more time with Marvin.”
She was skeptical. Her expression made that plain, so he didn’t push further. Maybe it was enough to plant the seed. Before he left, he scribbled his number on a sheet torn from her notebook.
After he got Millie strapped into her seat, he pulled his ledger from the glove box and made a new entry. When he closed the notebook, he felt better. It was something, at least. Millie was quiet for most of the drive back to her house until they were idling at a long light at Northside Drive.
“Will I see Marvin again?” she asked.
“I hope so, sweetie. Hey, why’d you bite him?”
“I don’t know. Am I bad?”
“No petunia, you are not bad.”
“Will he be okay?”
The light changed. Wild hit the gas and pretended he hadn’t heard Millie’s question.
« Previous Episode | Table of Contents | Next Episode »
Make a New Friend in the Comments
I’ve witnessed a really cool thing happen as I’ve published two other novels online like this. People who love the story and talk about it in the comments each week discover other likeminded readers and other fantastic writers. Many lasting friendships and collaborations start in the comments section. Share your thought and make a friend.
Want More? Check Out My Other Novels
If you’re enjoying “Departures,” chances are you will also like my two previously published novels. I’ve made the first two episodes of each free for you to preview. If you prefer reading the old fashioned way, you’re in luck because “The Memory of My Shadow” is now available in print, ebook, and audiobook anywhere you purchase books. I give you all the details in this announcement post.
In 2052, Magdalena, a brilliant programmer invents a device for telepathic communication with AI, seeking to decode the mind of her twin, the shooter in a school massacre she alone survived, but when she resurrects his consciousness, she unleashes a malevolence that could destroy her. Fans of the movie “Ex Machina” will love this story.
In the reality show competition for Houze, a revolutionary eco-home, six contestants face a winner-takes-all challenge. Beneath the surface of sustainability, altruism battles greed, turning a hopeful vision into a life and death struggle. Fans of “Nine Perfect Strangers” by Liane Moriarty will love this story.
Want to Help?
For independent authors like me who don’t have the support of a big publisher and marketing team, your enthusiastic support for my work means EVERYTHING. You can help others find my books by liking, commenting on, restacking, and sharing episodes like this one with anyone you know who loves to read.
I know how much competes for your time and attention so I’m so grateful you’ve honored me by sharing a portion of it each week. Thank you. ❤️
Love the Music?
If you love the soundtrack for “Departures” you should check out the work of my friend and collaborator
. All the cool sounds you hear that aren’t guitars are his. You can also find links to my catalog of music here as well as Spotify or anywhere you stream music.
Share this post