Page 43 of The Woods

Cleo: Yeah, I think I can relate to that. But you said that your husband and sons went into the woods and came out possessed. That feels different. Did you ever go into those woods, Justine?

Justine: Yes. I went in when we first moved there, for walks. But I always felt like I was being watched, like I wasn’t supposed to be there. When I figured out that something in the woods had taken my family, I went looking for answers. I went back in.

Cleo: Did anything happen to you while you were in there? Did you see anything strange or come out feeling different yourself?

Justine: I saw things. Shadows and figures that were there one minute and gone the next, but no, I didn’t feel any different when I came out.

Cleo: Do you have a theory as to why your family went into the woods and came out possessed but the same thing didn’t happen to you? Why were you spared and not them?

Justine: I have no idea. [pause] No, I do. I was spared because I’m the mom. I’m the one who found the house and moved my family there. What happened to them is all my fault. [starts to cry] It’s all my fault.

Cleo: [waits for Justine to stop crying] Justine, I’m confused. What are you taking responsibility for?

Justine: I didn’t murder my family! [hits the table] Those people were not my family. I’m responsible for moving my family to that house and those woods.

Quinn jumps at the sound of Justine Gordon’s hand slamming down on the table. He yanks out his AirPods and slides down in bed, staring out the window at the woods beyond. The return to silence feels strange. Is it just his imagination or does he hear faint whispers? He studies the swaying trees obscured by the heavy rain, making them look like a wall that surrounds the whole property, trapping him there. Is something really out there, he wonders, or can he ignore the ramblings of a crazy woman?

Sometimes his own mom seems crazy. He overheard her talking to herself in the kitchen the other day. It sounded like she was angry, but he couldn’t make out at what or who. A few times lately she’s walked into his room to say something but can’t remember what and stands there staring at him blankly. She also seems on the brink of tears a lot. Couldn’t all those things be signs of losing your mind?

But his mom has never gone in the woods, and his dad has. So what does that mean? He spent a full night in there and came out acting like nothing had happened, so maybe he’s the one who’s going to go crazy and murder them all. He has been acting differently. He hasn’t been hitting the bourbon and hiding out in his writing studio for hours. He’s started making dinner and doing laundry and buying groceries when his mom asks. And when his nana made a comment about it the other night, instead of getting shitty with her, he said it was long overdue that he pitched in more around the house. Quinn knows he should be happy about the change in his dad’s behavior, but something feels off about it. It’s like his dad is putting it on or something.

The wind picks up, throwing rain against the window like pellets, and thrashing the trees. Panda, who was lying on the end of his bed, sits up, looks out the window, and quietly growls. Quinn burrows deeper under his covers. What’s out there that scares her so much? he wonders. She’s started acting weird inside too—growling randomly, not coming out of his room when he calls her, sometimes sitting facing the bedroom wall he shares with Polly’s room and growling at that. She even snapped at the back of his dad’s leg the other day. Thankfully his dad didn’t notice. Maybe his dog is going crazy too.

Another strong gust of wind brings down a branch just outside Quinn’s window. What if a whole tree falls on the house? He sits up in bed, ready to run, but to where? The house is surrounded. Those fucking woods, he thinks, this fucking house. He hears the sound of the front door opening and closing and then his parents’ voices, sounding high-pitched and excited—like two teenagers who just ran through a rainstorm together.

Relief swims through him at their arrival. And then the thought surfaces: What if they’re both going crazy—together?

Beverley

She doesn’t like to go into the main house uninvited, but she’s got cabin fever. The rain has kept her holed up in there all morning and afternoon. She tried painting, but the dreary day is uninspiring. She tried reading but kept nodding off. It was when she started talking to the cats that she decided she needed to get out of there.

“Hello?” she calls out, stepping into the kitchen.

“In here,” Alice calls back with little enthusiasm.

She finds her daughter and son-in-law curled up on the couch together in front of a roaring fire, reading, with glasses of red wine in front of them on the coffee table. Envy bites at the back of her throat but she works to swallow it away. She used to have this—companionship, a lovely big home, lazy Sunday afternoons with a man. Things that felt tangible and fixed at the time but then somehow faded away, like paint on the south-facing side of a wooden house. You didn’t even notice it was disappearing until it was too late, and the wood was so rotten you had no choice but to tear it all down.

“Well, now, you two have the right idea,” she says with forced cheerfulness.

“Join us,” Geoff says in his new, uncharacteristically friendly way.

Beverley is sure she sees Alice throw him a look of annoyance, but it’s too fast to be certain. “Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” she says, hovering beside the armchair closest to the fire.

“No intrusion at all.” Beverley is grateful for her son-in-law’s words. She notices that Alice doesn’t agree.

Why does her daughter dislike her so much? Everyone else loves her company. “That’s very kind of you, Geoff,” she says, settling into the armchair.

He gets up off the couch. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“I’d love one, dear, thank you.” Beverley waits until he’s out of the room to lean forward and say, “He is truly a changed man, isn’t he? Like night and day. Like Jekyll and Hyde.”

Alice takes off her reading glasses and sighs. “He was never a monster, Mother. We just had some marital issues that took a back burner when we lost our daughter. I think moving here has shifted some of that and we’re both trying harder. That’s all.”

“Yes, of course, dear,” she says, to placate her daughter, who always finds a way to disagree with her. “All of that makes perfect sense. But a night lost in the woods seems to have made a world of difference as well, don’t you think?”

Before Alice can answer, Geoff returns to the room carrying a glass of wine. “Are you two talking about my night in the woods?” he asks, handing the drink to Beverley.

“My mom was just saying that you went in a monster and came out a saint.”