E. Lillith McDermott

The Scream

“Damn it, Kerry! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”  Jeff’s voice breaks my concentration. I look up from my phone. He’s fuming – lips pressed, arms crossed, his fingers doing an angry drumbeat. He rolls his eyes.  “Not even here. You can’t even stay off your damn email here.” He shakes his head and walks across the crowded gallery.  I click off the power switch and rush to catch up.  He doesn’t look at me before he continues.  “You know this is the single most important trip – my Mecca.  I’ve studied these painting my entire life…How long have I wanted to come to Oslo?  Just for once, I’d like you to care.”  

“I do care.”  My response is so automatic it’s out of my mouth before I even know I’m speaking.  He’s heard me, but he doesn’t answer. He just keeps pushing past the 

crowds toward the exit.  “Wait, we don’t have to go.  It’s still early.”  I jog to catch his arm. He pulls it away. 

“You haven’t heard a word – and a few extra hours at the airport…”  He’s moved ahead of me again and for a moment we’re separated by a large crowd of tourists.  It takes a second for me to wade through.  He’s almost at the door.  I grab his wrist before he can push his way outside.  

“I was listening. I swear.”  I’m not sure what I hate more; the idea that he’s mad at me, or the idea of him sulking all the way back to New York.  

He turns to face me.  “Fine, then what was I just saying?”  

“About what?” I hedge, trying to hold my gaze steady. 

Again he sighs and shakes his head.  “Let’s go with The Scream, Munch. - the single most famous painting in this building. Tell me one thing I said about it and we’ll go back.”  

I hate these little tests.  I search through my memories. I remember the painting, but his words are nothing more than distant thunder rumbling around in my head. I see anger and disappointment spread across his features. I close my eyes, defeated. Cool outside air blows my hair –he’s gone.  

***

“I think this is as close as I can get.”  The cab driver calls over his shoulder. 

Jeff leans forward.  “What’s going on?”  

The cabbie shrugs, “No idea, but it’s a big mess.” 

Jeff nods and turns to me.  “Stay with the cab. I’ll run up and find a porter to help me load the bags.”  It’s the first time he’s spoken to me since we left the museum. 

“You sure you don’t need help?”  My question is lost in the slam of the door.  

***

The Oslo airport is packed.  An enormous line snakes across the ticket hall.  I bite my bottom lip and exhale slowly through my nose.  I guess we’re going to need that extra time.  Jeff is already threading his way to the end of the line. I follow, my bags nearly too heavy to move.  

Time has stopped moving – which is probably good, since the line has also stopped. I have just begun yet another attempt at balancing my rear on our largest bag, when Jeff pokes my shoulder.  Contact is good.  “Something’s going on over there. Can you make out the arrivals board?”  I shake my head, rising to my tiptoes. “Be right back.” Jeff slips under the nylon rope. Within seconds he returns – his face worried.  “All out-going flights have been canceled.” He announces. 

“What?” I gasp.  The people around us turn.  A wide-set American woman one rope-loop over begins to chatter.  “I told you I heard the bell hop talking about that volcano.” 

Jeff leans over.  “The one in Iceland?  It’s erupting again?”  

The woman looks triumphantly over at her husband.  “Yes. Well, I don’t know if it’s that volcano that’s erupting. But it’s definitely a volcano.” 

Jeff looks back at me. Problem solver mode, we do this well, and at least if we’re united in a common fight, we can’t fight each other.  Without speaking we pull our bags out of the line. I grab my ever-demanding cell and dial our hotel. Jeff begins to rummage through his backpack while maneuvering us toward the wall.  I’m put on hold. Jeff pulls out his laptop. While I listen to a muzaqed version of The Cranberries’ Zombie, Jeff punches some buttons. “At least we’ve got wi fi.” He mumbles.

The music is replaced by a crisp, if heavily accented, female voice.   “In English?” I request.

 “Go ahead.”   

“My husband and I checked out of your hotel this morning and our flight’s been canceled, we were wondering if we could rebook our room?”  

She doesn’t even pause. “I’m sorry, we’re completely full. It appears that all flights out of Norway have been canceled due to the volcano.”  

“So it is a volcano. The one in Iceland again?”  At least now I know.

“Yes, the news is saying it’s a massive eruption.  You didn’t hear about it this morning?”

  I shrug, and then feel foolish.  “I guess we missed that.”  

“Ah, well, good luck.”  

I turn back to Jeff. “Nothing. Guess everyone’s in the same boat.”  

“No kidding.” His fingers are flying on the keyboard.  “I’ve been checking every hotel site – the whole city’s booked.”  

I rub my temples.  “Ok, I’m going to grab a drink, you want something?”  

He doesn’t look up as he responds.  “Coffee might not be a bad idea.”  

I walk the length of the terminal to find a coffee stand.  When I get up to the counter the barista greets me with a tired smile.  “Cash?  The credit card machine is down.”  I nod and order. 

As I’m paying, I grow curious.  “Broken?” I gesture toward the useless swipe machine. 

“No,” the girl sighs, trying to push the millions of stray hairs back into her ponytail.  “The solar flares took out the computers.  

“I thought it was a volcano?”  The girl shrugs and hands me my change.  

As I approach Jeff I notice that our wall has filled with stranded passengers all punching at keyboards and phones. I pick my away through the baggage.  “Do you have the traveler’s checks?” I ask – the out of service credit card machine has been nagging.  

“Good idea, get those changed now, before the rush.”  The wide woman is sitting next to Jeff.  She smiles at me- I guess we’ve bonded.  “We should do the same.”  She pats her husband’s leg.  “The checking agent told us the volcano has the whole northern hemisphere shut down.  And to top it off, all her computers crashed!”  

“The girl at the coffee shop told me there were solar flares.”  My chest is beginning to tighten. I will not panic. We’ll be okay.

“That explains a lot.” Jeff chimes in.  “I’m only getting spotty service and half of the sites are down.  I thought it might be all the traffic…”  I wait for him to continue. Instead he pulls his travel pouch over his head and hands it to me.

***

The line at the currency exchange booth took forever. But the money makes me feel better.  Jeff is standing at the exit talking to a strange man.  “You ready?”  He asks.  I nod, confused.  He shakes the man’s hand and pulls our bags out the door and into a cab.  “I found us a place, a B&B.  Talked to the owner. Don’t be mad - I traded your tennis bracelet for the cab. We needed a ride.” My stomach turns, but he’s right. This could get bad and I can get another bracelet- maybe an upgrade. 

“Where are we headed?”  

“The town of Kvennebekken.” He stumbles over the name. “There’s a map in the glove box, look for a town called Fevik.”  

“Looks like it’s going to be about 200 miles.” The traffic is surprisingly light out of the city. Eventually the silence becomes too heavy and I play with the radio. Nothing but static- channel after channel.  Finally I give up.  “What’s going on?”  I wonder. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who’s always poking at your phone.”  

My head snaps around. “I was talking about the weather!”  

“Who cares about that? It’s a volcano or solar flares, or whatever! It’ll pass, but what about us? I really thought we were going to try to fix things. That we’d get away –             

put work behind us. Figure out whatever’s been going on – find US again.” He shakes his head. 

I have no words. I look out the window. Something moves in my periphery. I turn, gasp.  The sky is littered with red vapor trails. “Oh my God, look!”  

Jeff follows my pointing. “It’s probably from the solar flares.  Really, Kerry, the radio would be broadcasting if it was an emergency. You’re changing the subject.”  

“No, I’m not. I’m really scared. Something’s going on.”  

“Yes, we’re falling apart, that’s what’s going on. And like always you’re ignoring it.”  His voice rises.

“I’m not ignoring it, I’m just worried about-“ 

“Worry about us for a change!”  I’m trying to save our marriage, and you can’t even be bothered to pay attention!” He’s yelling.

 “I am paying attention, all I do is pay attention! To what YOU want, to what YOU need!” I scream back. I’m terrified.  The sky is falling, I can’t get home, my cell has stopped working, and he wants to do this?  

“Kerry,” I can hear the tears. “You’re all I need.” 

***

We pull into the small bed and breakfast at dusk.  It’s a small, low house, all on one floor. Jeff rings the bell. An elderly gentleman opens the door and gestures us inside. He points Jeff down the hall and then returns to the front room where the television still flickers. He’s using rabbit ears, and the reception is rough.  Horrible image follows 

horrible image. Fire. Floods. Explosions. But I can’t understand the guttural voices with their strange words. A movie? A documentary? Jeff finishes unloading the car.  

The old man turns and walks to the door. He pauses, his fingers on the handle. “It is time for the church. For prayer.”  We shake our heads simultaneously. And then he’s gone.  We stand in silence until Jeff finally clears his throat. 

“Tell me just one thing I said. Just one thing. I want to believe you. I want to believe this can be fixed.” His hands clench my shoulders. I try to pull the rumble of his remembered voice closer. My eyes sting and I feel the trickle of wet down my cheek. I’m losing him, and the part that hurts the most is that I’m not hurting enough.  He closes his eyes. His lashes glisten like diamonds. “I thought so.” He nods, drops his hands from my shoulders and walks out the front door. 

I stand alone in an alien house. The television flickers, staticky half-images of nonsense flash across the screen. Time passes. A minute? A day? Suddenly the emptiness is too much. I run out the door, calling his name. But he won’t hear me. The car is gone. I am alone. The tears run free. I stumble across the drive. Again the streaks of flame shred the sky. Across rough patches of thick rounded rock and small areas of green-brown sea grass I stumble. I round a small hill, and suddenly the vastness of the ocean spreads out before me. There is no sand on this beach. Only time worn rock. A solid landscape rounded and sculpted by the relentless waves.  

I gasp and drop to my knees.  The sea is on fire. Flashing red and yellow and howling in rage. Giant geysers lash out, attacking the sky. And the heavens respond -throwing down their grenades. I fight for breath. Unbidden, Jeff’s words rush in on the waves.  “Munch – do you know what he said?  He said he stood silent, trembling, while an infinite scream passed through all of nature.”

 The Scream

“Damn it, Kerry! You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”  Jeff’s voice breaks my concentration. I look up from my phone. He’s fuming – lips pressed, arms crossed, his fingers doing an angry drumbeat. He rolls his eyes.  “Not even here. You can’t even stay off your damn email here.” He shakes his head and walks across the crowded gallery.  I click off the power switch and rush to catch up.  He doesn’t look at me before he continues.  “You know this is the single most important trip – my Mecca.  I’ve studied these painting my entire life…How long have I wanted to come to Oslo?  Just for once, I’d like you to care.”  

“I do care.”  My response is so automatic it’s out of my mouth before I even know I’m speaking.  He’s heard me, but he doesn’t answer. He just keeps pushing past the 

crowds toward the exit.  “Wait, we don’t have to go.  It’s still early.”  I jog to catch his arm. He pulls it away. 

“You haven’t heard a word – and a few extra hours at the airport…”  He’s moved ahead of me again and for a moment we’re separated by a large crowd of tourists.  It takes a second for me to wade through.  He’s almost at the door.  I grab his wrist before he can push his way outside.  

“I was listening. I swear.”  I’m not sure what I hate more; the idea that he’s mad at me, or the idea of him sulking all the way back to New York.  

He turns to face me.  “Fine, then what was I just saying?”  

“About what?” I hedge, trying to hold my gaze steady. 

Again he sighs and shakes his head.  “Let’s go with The Scream, Munch. - the single most famous painting in this building. Tell me one thing I said about it and we’ll go back.”  

I hate these little tests.  I search through my memories. I remember the painting, but his words are nothing more than distant thunder rumbling around in my head. I see anger and disappointment spread across his features. I close my eyes, defeated. Cool outside air blows my hair –he’s gone.  

***

“I think this is as close as I can get.”  The cab driver calls over his shoulder. 

Jeff leans forward.  “What’s going on?”  

The cabbie shrugs, “No idea, but it’s a big mess.” 

Jeff nods and turns to me.  “Stay with the cab. I’ll run up and find a porter to help me load the bags.”  It’s the first time he’s spoken to me since we left the museum. 

“You sure you don’t need help?”  My question is lost in the slam of the door.  

***

The Oslo airport is packed.  An enormous line snakes across the ticket hall.  I bite my bottom lip and exhale slowly through my nose.  I guess we’re going to need that extra time.  Jeff is already threading his way to the end of the line. I follow, my bags nearly too heavy to move.  

Time has stopped moving – which is probably good, since the line has also stopped. I have just begun yet another attempt at balancing my rear on our largest bag, when Jeff pokes my shoulder.  Contact is good.  “Something’s going on over there. Can you make out the arrivals board?”  I shake my head, rising to my tiptoes. “Be right back.” Jeff slips under the nylon rope. Within seconds he returns – his face worried.  “All out-going flights have been canceled.” He announces. 

“What?” I gasp.  The people around us turn.  A wide-set American woman one rope-loop over begins to chatter.  “I told you I heard the bell hop talking about that volcano.” 

Jeff leans over.  “The one in Iceland?  It’s erupting again?”  

The woman looks triumphantly over at her husband.  “Yes. Well, I don’t know if it’s that volcano that’s erupting. But it’s definitely a volcano.” 

Jeff looks back at me. Problem solver mode, we do this well, and at least if we’re united in a common fight, we can’t fight each other.  Without speaking we pull our bags out of the line. I grab my ever-demanding cell and dial our hotel. Jeff begins to rummage through his backpack while maneuvering us toward the wall.  I’m put on hold. Jeff pulls out his laptop. While I listen to a muzaqed version of The Cranberries’ Zombie, Jeff punches some buttons. “At least we’ve got wi fi.” He mumbles.

The music is replaced by a crisp, if heavily accented, female voice.   “In English?” I request.

 “Go ahead.”   

“My husband and I checked out of your hotel this morning and our flight’s been canceled, we were wondering if we could rebook our room?”  

She doesn’t even pause. “I’m sorry, we’re completely full. It appears that all flights out of Norway have been canceled due to the volcano.”  

“So it is a volcano. The one in Iceland again?”  At least now I know.

“Yes, the news is saying it’s a massive eruption.  You didn’t hear about it this morning?”

  I shrug, and then feel foolish.  “I guess we missed that.”  

“Ah, well, good luck.”  

I turn back to Jeff. “Nothing. Guess everyone’s in the same boat.”  

“No kidding.” His fingers are flying on the keyboard.  “I’ve been checking every hotel site – the whole city’s booked.”  

I rub my temples.  “Ok, I’m going to grab a drink, you want something?”  

He doesn’t look up as he responds.  “Coffee might not be a bad idea.”  

I walk the length of the terminal to find a coffee stand.  When I get up to the counter the barista greets me with a tired smile.  “Cash?  The credit card machine is down.”  I nod and order. 

As I’m paying, I grow curious.  “Broken?” I gesture toward the useless swipe machine. 

“No,” the girl sighs, trying to push the millions of stray hairs back into her ponytail.  “The solar flares took out the computers.  

“I thought it was a volcano?”  The girl shrugs and hands me my change.  

As I approach Jeff I notice that our wall has filled with stranded passengers all punching at keyboards and phones. I pick my away through the baggage.  “Do you have the traveler’s checks?” I ask – the out of service credit card machine has been nagging.  

“Good idea, get those changed now, before the rush.”  The wide woman is sitting next to Jeff.  She smiles at me- I guess we’ve bonded.  “We should do the same.”  She pats her husband’s leg.  “The checking agent told us the volcano has the whole northern hemisphere shut down.  And to top it off, all her computers crashed!”  

“The girl at the coffee shop told me there were solar flares.”  My chest is beginning to tighten. I will not panic. We’ll be okay.

“That explains a lot.” Jeff chimes in.  “I’m only getting spotty service and half of the sites are down.  I thought it might be all the traffic…”  I wait for him to continue. Instead he pulls his travel pouch over his head and hands it to me.

***

The line at the currency exchange booth took forever. But the money makes me feel better.  Jeff is standing at the exit talking to a strange man.  “You ready?”  He asks.  I nod, confused.  He shakes the man’s hand and pulls our bags out the door and into a cab.  “I found us a place, a B&B.  Talked to the owner. Don’t be mad - I traded your tennis bracelet for the cab. We needed a ride.” My stomach turns, but he’s right. This could get bad and I can get another bracelet- maybe an upgrade. 

“Where are we headed?”  

“The town of Kvennebekken.” He stumbles over the name. “There’s a map in the glove box, look for a town called Fevik.”  

“Looks like it’s going to be about 200 miles.” The traffic is surprisingly light out of the city. Eventually the silence becomes too heavy and I play with the radio. Nothing but static- channel after channel.  Finally I give up.  “What’s going on?”  I wonder. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who’s always poking at your phone.”  

My head snaps around. “I was talking about the weather!”  

“Who cares about that? It’s a volcano or solar flares, or whatever! It’ll pass, but what about us? I really thought we were going to try to fix things. That we’d get away –             

put work behind us. Figure out whatever’s been going on – find US again.” He shakes his head. 

I have no words. I look out the window. Something moves in my periphery. I turn, gasp.  The sky is littered with red vapor trails. “Oh my God, look!”  

Jeff follows my pointing. “It’s probably from the solar flares.  Really, Kerry, the radio would be broadcasting if it was an emergency. You’re changing the subject.”  

“No, I’m not. I’m really scared. Something’s going on.”  

“Yes, we’re falling apart, that’s what’s going on. And like always you’re ignoring it.”  His voice rises.

“I’m not ignoring it, I’m just worried about-“ 

“Worry about us for a change!”  I’m trying to save our marriage, and you can’t even be bothered to pay attention!” He’s yelling.

 “I am paying attention, all I do is pay attention! To what YOU want, to what YOU need!” I scream back. I’m terrified.  The sky is falling, I can’t get home, my cell has stopped working, and he wants to do this?“Kerry,” I can hear the tears. “You’re all I need.” 

***

We pull into the small bed and breakfast at dusk.  It’s a small, low house, all on one floor. Jeff rings the bell. An elderly gentleman opens the door and gestures us inside. He points Jeff down the hall and then returns to the front room where the television still flickers. He’s using rabbit ears, and the reception is rough.  Horrible image follows 

horrible image. Fire. Floods. Explosions. But I can’t understand the guttural voices with their strange words. A movie? A documentary? Jeff finishes unloading the car.  

The old man turns and walks to the door. He pauses, his fingers on the handle. “It is time for the church. For prayer.”  We shake our heads simultaneously. And then he’s gone.  We stand in silence until Jeff finally clears his throat. 

“Tell me just one thing I said. Just one thing. I want to believe you. I want to believe this can be fixed.” His hands clench my shoulders. I try to pull the rumble of his remembered voice closer. My eyes sting and I feel the trickle of wet down my cheek. I’m losing him, and the part that hurts the most is that I’m not hurting enough.  He closes his eyes. His lashes glisten like diamonds. “I thought so.” He nods, drops his hands from my shoulders and walks out the front door. 

I stand alone in an alien house. The television flickers, staticky half-images of nonsense flash across the screen. Time passes. A minute? A day? Suddenly the emptiness is too much. I run out the door, calling his name. But he won’t hear me. The car is gone. I am alone. The tears run free. I stumble across the drive. Again the streaks of flame shred the sky. Across rough patches of thick rounded rock and small areas of green-brown sea grass I stumble. I round a small hill, and suddenly the vastness of the ocean spreads out before me. There is no sand on this beach. Only time worn rock. A solid landscape rounded and sculpted by the relentless waves.  

I gasp and drop to my knees.  The sea is on fire. Flashing red and yellow and howling in rage. Giant geysers lash out, attacking the sky. And the heavens respond -throwing down their grenades. I fight for breath. Unbidden, Jeff’s words rush in on the waves.  “Munch – do you know what he said?  He said he stood silent, trembling, while an infinite scream passed through all of nature.”