Red Foxes

 

A person’s life shouldn’t be something easily summarized. It shouldn’t be possible yet here Naomi sat, with the files and bills that made up her mother’s life. All the assets her mother prepared to leave both her and her sister Chloe, when she found out she was sick. Now, in the aftermath, they were the remnants of her mother’s life. At least the house was paid off, and there was insurance to cover the medical costs—that would be horrible to deal with as a nineteen-year-old. Looking at the tiny words and long lists of billing history, Naomi would rather eat glass. What a miserable way to say goodbye, she thought bitterly.

 

She mechanically shifted the papers to read the next one in the pile but couldn’t find the willpower to even look at the title. It was all so bland and resembled nothing of the color her mother brought to the world. She pushed the papers away in disgust; all the critical forms were filed weeks ago.

 

Naomi looked out the window, watching Chloe swing back and forth on the playset. Her eight-year-old sister was wrapped up in her cherry red puffer jacket and pom-pom hat. The outfit made her vibrant against the dreary backdrop. Chloe was taking every chance she could to be outside, even if it meant she came in frigid with red cheeks and ice-cold fingers. The snow had already melted and the temperature was rising, but spring had yet to set in. Chloe always seemed to find comfort in being among nature weather it was frigid snow or gloomy, dead grass. Naomi loathed to tear her away from anything that brought her comfort. If she needed to be outside to free herself from the grief of their deceased mother, Naomi wouldn’t push.

 

Chloe was bouncing back after the last few months, resilient in ways only kids could be. Even for kids, Chloe was tougher than most; she was like their mother in that way. Naomi’s job was to continue where mom left off. She was determined to make sure Chloe continued to be steady and not lose the brightness she inherited. She had never been good at reaching out to people, much less one so much younger than her, but she had to try.

 

They weren’t close, it was hard to connect with a kid more than a decade younger than you. Naomi was already eleven when Chloe was born, and full of opinions. She never wanted to be home, always at her friend’s houses or afterschool clubs. Chloe, to a spoiled teen, simply wasn’t interesting enough to squeeze into her free time. Naomi was sure the only reason mom didn’t push was because she would agree to babysit when it was needed. A lenient, inattentive babysitter, but a present one, nonetheless.

 

That description of Naomi still applied. One year into college out of state, ended with a call from her mom about the inevitable. Naomi rushed back, but remained distant, interacting with her sister like she was that same eternally busy teen.

 

The point of connection between them was their mother. Now that connection was buried and Naomi had to build something new from scratch. Conversations that were fostered by the connective tissue of their mother were now stilted, both Naomi and her sister looking for a stabilizing force. Naomi never got to appreciate how much work mom did to bring them together until she was no longer there to be the bridge. At least Chloe had time to get used to Naomi in charge. When the sickness reached its worst stages, and mom physically couldn’t leave the hospital, Naomi took over as a guardian.

 

A part of her still curdles at the memory of calling her college admin and having to explain she wouldn’t be returning. There was a little sister who needed her at home, not out of state.

 

Being a guardian for a sick relative is different from a permanent legal guardian. Before, if Naomi failed, Chloe could go to their mother and complain about anything. Even on the bad days, the days where it was clear mom would rather sleep, she listened and chuckled at every exaggerated complaint. She hugged Chloe as close as possible and said that her sister had been away for a while, so she needed to get used to home again. Then she would regale her youngest with silly hospital gossip for them both to laugh at.

 

She used to do the same with Naomi too. She would listen to all her concerns, help her fill out paperwork for the eventualities that were guaranteed to come. She would give Naomi advice on what to do when the responsibility felt too big to carry. It was more somber than the visits with Chloe, but Naomi cherished those moments. Her mom was thin in the hospital gown, pale in ways she never was.

 

“Listen and adapt,” her mother said every time Naomi reluctantly got up to leave, “things don’t have to be perfect.You don’t have to be perfect. Your sister doesn’t need that from you. She just needs you to be there.”

 

She looked back at the papers in front of her. She had a job, but nothing that would support them both for long. Not to mention, a college dropout had fewer options on job boards. Options she could have jumped on in a few years if her life hadn’t taken such a dramatic turn. Her mouth tasted bitter and her lips twisted. This was a cruel joke her brain liked to play on her, reminding her of what she couldn’t have until things were stable. Something that could take years to achieve, if ever. She had no time for what-ifs, but they were intrusive thoughts whenever she considered the future.

 

It was all so stupid, she hated it. Hated it all.

 

She was stuck, her feet cemented to the floor of her own volition. She had no other option but to continue past the bitterness, for her sister.

 

Naomi looked back up and felt her breath hitch in her throat. The swing was empty, swaying in the wind. There was no red puffer in the yard.

 

Chloe was gone.

 

She wretched herself up and almost faceplanted in her haste to get out of her chair. She hit the wall coming up and pushed her way to the doorframe. She slipped into her shoes, not caring that they were untied and opened the patio door with a bang.

 

She looked around frantically and wheezed when she saw the fence open. Her heart pounded in her ears like a death knell. Failure, how did you lose her in your own backyard? Stupid! She barreled towards it and desperately looked around for red.

 

Her eyes went to the woods behind the fence. The trunks were thin and brittle in the cold weather. All bark and nothing more. She was never more thankful that the trees were leafless. She spotted a flash of red and ran for it. She felt like she was swimming in cotton trying to make sure she didn’t faint from sheer panic that abruptly turned to overwhelming relief. Naomi could only breath when she got close enough to grab her sister and pull her into a crushing hug.

 

Chloe squirmed and pushed away, oblivious to Naomi’s panic, looking at her sister like she had lost her mind. Something changed in that moment, if Naomi was being honest. She normally isn’t one for hugs, but Naomi didn’t think she could exist without them now.

 

Naomi grabbed her sister’s shoulders, shaking her slightly. Her fingers trembled where they clutched at the puffer jacket.

 

“Thank God you’re okay. You just vanished and I thought something happened to you. Don’t do that to me,” she rambled in relief.

 

“I don’t get it,” Chloe replied, “I’ve come out here before?”

 

“Not without telling someone first! What were you doing?”

 

“I was following the fox,” Chloe replied. She replaced her confusion with excitement. She bounced on her feet, the pompom on her hat moving with her.

 

“What?”

 

“I was following the fox! I wanted to see where it goes. If there was a secret place it goes to.”

 

“Oh my-” Naomi buried her face in her hands to hold in a scream. This is a child, she doesn’t understand, don’t yell at her. Don’t yell. Naomi couldn’t blame her for this.

 

Their mother loved telling stories, specifically fantasy or exaggerated tales. Stories that belonged in a book of fairy tales. Naomi remembered when she was six, she asked why the birds left in the winter. The story she got was that birds controlled the warm weather and it was only warm where they went. Obviously a yarn, but a young Naomi giggled herself silly at her mom’s exaggerated expressions and various voices.

 

Still, the memory didn’t take away the lump of fear stuck in her throat.

 

“You left the yard for a fox? Chloe, you can’t do that. It’s a wild animal, not some magical creature from a story.”

 

“How do you know? The fox left when you got here.”

 

“I know because there’s nothing magical around the house.”

 

Chloe screwed her face up, puffing up like a little bird and stomped her feet. “Of course there’s magic at home. Mom made sure it was there! Maybe you lost the magic cuz you were never home!”

 

Naomi wanted to cry. Chloe wasn’t wrong, their mom did make magic. Naomi was never home. But she wasn’t ready to have this conversation with her sister, for their mother to be brought up like this. The wound was still too raw to pick at it like this.

 

“Maybe the magic isn’t here because it was only made-up stories,” Naomi whispered.

 

Even to her own ears, it sounded like a curse. Like telling a child Santa wasn’t real. Chloe’s offense and shock certainly meant she agreed.

 

Yet, the words slipped out. Emotions bubbling too much to calm the tide enough to hold them behind her teeth. She had to disengage before she did more damage.

 

“Go back inside, Chloe,” Naomi continued dully, “We’ll talk later.”

 

Chloe stared like she didn’t know what to make of that. She stepped around her sister and made her way inside with a backwards glance. Naomi only stared at the place where her sister had been, gritting her teeth against the scream she wanted to release. The sound that’s been waiting months in her throat to escape. She released a shaky breath and tried to not explode. It’ll be fine, it has to be fine, Naomi told herself.

 

She mechanically walked back inside and sat at the kitchen table. She needed to calm down before she said another thing she’d regret. Her eyes locked on the papers in front of her.

 

College withdrawal forms.

 

The forms to permanently sign away the future she had dreamed of. She had it all planned. A degree, find a way to travel for work. Enjoy a world at her fingertips. A life where she could move without restrictions.

 

I have restrictions now, Naomi realized, and I will until she turns eighteen.

 

She stood up, uncaring of the clattering chair. She paced the kitchen, feeling distinctly like a caged tiger. She wanted to leave, but the thought of her mom made her stay in the room. She kicked the cabinet door roughly and screamed into her hands.

 

Naomi loved her family, but she hated that it fell to her to deal with everything. She wanted to return to three months ago, when she wasn’t drowning under the weight of someone who needed her rooted in ways she never was. She stood, panting, in a silent kitchen.

 

She needed to calm down. Naomi pulled open the cabinet and grabbed the first mug she saw. Her mom always made hot cocoa when she was stressed. The warmth of a hot drink in her hands helped her focus and brought a smile to her face. Naomi cupped the hot cocoa in her hands, trying to recreate the feeling to the best of her abilities. She watched as the cocoa swirled in her hands while she sat in her chair looking towards the other side of the table.

 

Naomi noticed a red mug set at the seat across from her. When did I put that other cup down? It was her mother’s mug. She must have set it there on instinct. At the place her mother always sat at on the long nights when neither of them could sleep. Just looking at it, Naomi felt something inside crumble. All the anger she felt dissipated like smoke. Fury was trivial in the face of loss. Her shoulders shook and tears leaked into her drink like the world’s worst creamer.

 

“Mom,” she said to the red mug, “I can’t do this alone. Tell me what to do. I’m not ready for this, and I’m going to hurt Chloe more than she already is.”

 

She wondered how her mom managed to raise both her and Chloe after her dad died? Her mom was such a rock through it all, managing a cranky two-year-old and an inconsolable thirteen-year-old with grace. Always ready to heal wounds with a loving hug, a pleasant smile, and a magical story.

 

Naomi paused at that thought. A story, like the story about the fox leading kids to secrets. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “So that’s why,” she whispered.

 

Mom would’ve laughed at her for forgetting how much she loved to hear about that fox.

 

At eight years old, Naomi spotted a fox in the park. She screamed her head off, pulling at her mom’s arm and pointing wildly. She had been so excited to see the fox in real life. Mom had only laughed and cheered along. Naomi buzzed with so much energy she didn’t relax again for days. It got to the point where mom’s amusement ran out, and she was left exhausted by a rowdy child who kept wanting to go back to the park for a chance to see a bushy red tail again.

 

Instead, Naomi got to hear another story. The one that inspired the bedtime stories her mother would tell Chloe.

 

“Listen and adapt, it doesn’t have to be perfect,” Naomi repeated from memory, “let’s see if that works.”

 

She left both cups on the table and went to Chloe’s room. She knocked lightly on the door and winced at the “Go away!” Shouted through the door.

 

“Chloe, please. You were right. Mom did make magic, and I was never very magical.”

 

There was silence on the other side. It was deafening but she couldn’t give up now. Naomi continued, “I was just scared and hearing you talk about mom made me miss her so much. But that’s no excuse to hurt you. I forgot that those stories meant a lot to all of us. So, as a way to say sorry, I wanted to show you something. Mom took me to where she created the fox story, and I think you’ll like it.”

 

“…you mean it?”

 

“Of course I do, and mom would want you to know. Can I show you?”

 

Chloe opened the door. Her eyes were sad and she was holding a large teddy bear securely in her arms. When Naomi saw how small she looked it felt like a punch to the gut. So young, to lose your mother and to only have a sister. Even still, Chloe looked up at her with big, trusting eyes, and asked, “Show me?”

 

Naomi smiled, hoping it came across as encouraging, “Do you want to see where the foxes go?”

 

She got a delighted gasp and the eight-year-old ran to put her coat back on.

 

~0~

 

They both got into the car for a little adventure. Chloe’s happiness seemed to come back as she looked outside the window. Her eyes were bright as she spotted the park sign.

 

This wasn’t her first time here, or even the tenth. The park was a place they both knew well. They parked on the edge of the park where the grassy fields turned into woods. Tall evergreens lined the edges of the woods, giving nothing away of what lay inside. Old hiking paths snaked around the entrances to the woods for people to use. Woodchips flooded out of gaps in the trees, beckoning people to explore the depths of the forest. Barely anyone actually went in, but their mom knew those paths like the back of her hand.

 

“Mom saw a fox when she was walking around in the woods one time,” Naomi told Chloe as she helped her out of the car. She steered both of them down the middle path, the one with a wooden bridge leading over a creek. “She said it looked magical because of how bright its fur was, and watching it go into its den was like seeing it slip through a hole in space.”

 

“Like a portal,” Chloe said in awe. Her head was on a swivel, looking at the big trees that lined the path. They towered over the both of them, bare of leaves. Buds struggled to push through the chilly winds to blossom into greenery. In a couple months, the path would be lush green, with spring colors showing in full force. For now, the path was a monotone mix of brown bark and grey rocks.

 

Naomi remembered hearing the story for the first time, walking next to their mother with the same starry eyes. Mom had looked tired, but so nostalgically happy. It was like sharing a fond memory injected life back into her. She spent a lot of time in the park’s woods to get away from the stress, Naomi knew, even if she had never said it out loud. It was something for only her. When she got sick enough that she couldn’t leave her bed, only 3 weeks after her diagnosis, she only said that she missed going outside. At the time, Naomi could only open the window and hope to create some sort of peace outside the suffocating whiteness of the hospital room. Her mom had smiled.

 

The day she died, she insisted on sitting outside. Like she knew her time was coming and refused to be indoors in her final moments. She died in the hospital garden with a smile on her face.

 

“Mom said she would come to this very area to see the foxes again and again,” Naomi told Chloe. They’re quite used to people, so they’re not as fearful as they could be.”

 

“So cool! I wanna see them too!”

 

Naomi nodded with a smile and stopped them by a clearing. The path was at the top of a hill, leading into a grassy expanse, with a couple bare trees sprouting up beside the small hills. Farther up the trail, there was a wooden gazebo set up with old picnic tables overlooking the entire field. Naomi pushed Chloe towards it. Chloe didn’t sit at the bench, instead choosing to stand on the table to look at everything from her new perch. Naomi put a hand on her back and pointed to one of the hills on the right corner of the clearing.

 

The side of the hill was a light brown, the grass still growing back, with a dark hole dug into it. A place made to be lived in by a woodland critter. It was something easily overlooked, but obvious under scrutiny. Luckily, Naomi had someone teach her what to look for.

 

“That’s the den,” she said and let Chloe take it in. She didn’t seem that impressed but curious enough to be interested.

 

“Will we see the fox?” She asked.

 

“Maybe.”

 

It wasn’t a satisfying answer, and Chloe made that clear as she pouted.

 

“Nothing I can do kiddo,” Naomi said, “animals run on their own schedule.”

 

Chloe blinked and the energy seemed to melt off of her. Again, she seemed to shrink, and Naomi hated to see those slumped shoulders come back. “Mom said animals were interesting ‘cause they didn’t follow human rules,” she said.

 

Naomi swallowed, “That sounds like her.”

 

There was silence after that. They both stared out into the clearing of dead grass and leafless trees. Naomi kept her hand on her sister’s back, rubbing circles periodically in an attempt at comfort. She again cursed herself for not knowing what to do. She crushed the urge to pull away in the heavy silence. It wasn’t much, but she hoped that this small moment would help.

 

“You just have to be there,” her mother’s voice repeated, like a lighthouse in a storm.

 

Naomi held those words close and stayed where she was. They stayed there as Chloe’s cheeks slowly became the same color as her red puffer jacket. Despite the cold, she showed no signs of wanting to go back to the car. She stayed stubbornly in place, staring at the den like she could convince the fox to come out through sheer force.

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Chloe said.

 

“Yeah? I’m happy to be here with you too.”

 

“I don’t want you to leave again.”

 

Naomi looked at her sister before facing the field again, “I won’t leave you alone.”

 

She had decided on that weeks ago.

 

Chloe wrapped an arm around Naomi’s neck and pulled her into a side hug.

 

“I was just mad at you before, it wasn’t true. Mom gave you magic too.”

 

Naomi felt her heart warm at the childish honesty. It was as warm as the hug and just as comforting. Nothing filled her with more confidence than hearing this child be so sure.

 

“And I know it’s just a story,” Chloe added, “mom changed the details all the time.”

 

Naomi couldn’t help but chuckle. “She did that for you too? You’d think she would’ve written it down to remember it.”

 

Chloe shook her head, “That would’ve taken the magic away. The story was alive.”

 

Naomi tilted her head in thought. She had never thought of it like that. The unknown was always a black hole of uncertainty, constantly stealing the good moments and the best people. Yet here was her sister, turning that on its head. There was no way to articulate how much a kid can surprise you. They always did, and Naomi was always honored to see it. No easy metaphor, no complicated paper to file. Children have a unique way of looking at the world in a way that no force can stop them from taking it all in with curious eyes. Moments like these, little glimpses into the person her sister was becoming never failed to take her breath away. She saw magic in the world, and it made Naomi want to see it again too. Wordlessly, she patted Chloe’s back and pressed a kiss to her temple. She hoped it conveyed all the bubbling joy she felt.

 

In her arms, she felt Chloe perk up and wave her arms around.

 

“Look, look, there it is!” Chloe shouted and there the fox stood. She tried to jump down towards it, but Naomi caught her in time to explain the foxes are still skittish with people who sprint towards them. So Chloe stayed, buzzing with excitement at seeing her new buddy again.

 

The fox stared, brown eyes watching carefully from its still position. Its tail twitched, the brightest red it could be. The white tip brushed against its legs in time with its movements. Registering them as not a threat, it sniffed the ground and moved to trot away from the den. Its slim paws were silent as it padded towards the trees.

 

Mom was right, Naomi thought, they are bright spots. The red was a beacon in the late winter woods, bright and unapologetic. Mom would have loved it.

 

For the first time in weeks, the thought didn’t burn.

 

But what she loved more was the smile on Chloe’s face, bright and brimming with excitement. Naomi smiled too, unable to be worried in the face of that joy. She picked her up, spinning both of them to hear more laughter. It sounded like magic.

 

In that moment, the emotions in Naomi’s chest no longer felt like a boulder weighing her down. It felt like a coat, protective in how it held her in the cold. She knew the tide may come back to try and drown her again, but Naomi had found the light to guide her home in troubled waters. Her own personal cheery red beacon set against the monotone brown shadows.