Lakeside Park

Author's Note:

As head of the HOA and part of the Minwack Falls Good Neighbours Society, Liz Roth knows what time Lakeside Park closes. But when the power goes out one evening and the storm inside her house ends up being more destructive than the ones raging outside, Liz decides it's time to start breaking the rules.

This story contains an older woman/younger man relationship as well as mentions of adultery and emotional manipulation. It is part of the When The Lights Go Out universe. These stories all revolve around the same event and have some connections, but are stand alone pieces. You can find a list of included stories in my bio.

**

According to town bylaws, Lakeside Park closed at ten p.m. every evening and reopened at six the following morning.

I knew the bylaw well; living down the street from the park meant I'd had to put up with drunk teenagers leaving broken glass all over the sidewalk and would-be drug deals happening next to the playground equipment my daughter had enjoyed as a child. I'd called the Minwack Falls detachment of the provincial police more than once, and sure, maybe that made me

that

person, but when my husband Scott and I first got married, I'd been so

certain

that living across from a park was the best place to raise a family. Instead of admitting that I'd been a touch too insistent, I'd resolved to simply make it the safe and welcoming place I'd wanted it to be.

Rules were rules for a reason.

That night, though, I was feeling a touch rebellious, and I didn't even hesitate before striding past the sign warning that bylaw violations were subject to a two-hundred-dollar fine. If the lazy enforcement officers at the detachment even bothered coming out, I could easily remind them that they'd let more than one person off with a warning after I'd called them, and if they

still

insisted on fining me, Scott could pay the fucking thing.

Chances were slim anyone would call about me being in the park anyway. If anything, there would just be a ton of whispered rumours from the town gossip, Alice McGrady, and the chances of anyone believing that I, of all people, had put a toe out of line were slim anyway. Plus, given how dark it was, I would have been surprised if anyone could even see me.

It was strange, really, how unnatural the darkness seemed. It wasn't until the power went out and the second thunderstorm of the day had cleared up that I realized just how ubiquitous the yellow-bright glow of the streetlights was in Minwack Falls and how surreal the world seemed without it. Even in the middle of the night, I could usually look out and see the town I'd helped mold and maintain and celebrate, the yards I'd evaluated and fences I'd set standards for and the smooth, uncracked sidewalks I'd pressured the town council to fix. I could see what had amounted to my life's work, I could ignore the ugliness in my own life and see the beauty I'd poured myself into creating.

I don't know why I decided the park was the right place to be. My house felt too big, too empty, too lonely, and for some reason, I thought leaving it to go to a bigger, emptier, lonelier place would help. The clouds had finally parted and the moon left a silver-slicked glow along the rain-soaked path that led into the park--asphalt, not concrete, since asphalt was the perfect mix of economical and aesthetically pleasing, as I'd argued to the town council--but it was barely enough to see by.

Still, I walked, letting my eyes adjust and leaving nothing but the sound of softly splattering footsteps as my trail. Darkness coated the world, and the comfort of my sad little accomplishments disappeared beneath it.

**

The power went out just as I was trying to decide if it was worth putting myself through eating the baked chicken, steamed broccoli, and rice I'd made for dinner.

It was done, of course, but Ramona was in the basement playing whatever video game she was playing to avoid talking to me, and Scott was working late--again--and instead of fighting about it--again--we were in a passive aggressive standoff where I was waiting for him to complain about the fact that dinner was overcooked every single night and he was waiting for me to complain about the fact that he was late... again.

Somewhere along the line, I'd decided ignorance was bliss.

But, of course, then the power went out, so I was stuck with the slop I'd made for dinner. Scott got home from work, Ramona pulled her sullen self up from the basement, and I'd spent the rest of the night on my phone, helping coordinate assistance for people who needed it on the town Facebook page and sharing the latest updates from the electric company.

I called them after we finished eating, when Ramona had disappeared from the table to do whatever she could to avoid working on her resume and Scott had disappeared to the living room to do God knows what. As I cleaned up the kitchen by the dim glow of one of our emergency lanterns, I cradled my phone on my shoulder.

At first they said they didn't have an estimate, which was, of course, unacceptable. I stayed on the line as the first representative I spoke with got her supervisor, then waited patiently as the supervisor got in touch with the field crew to find out if they had an estimate about when to expect the estimate. They told me they'd know in about half an hour as the storm was starting to let up. When forty-five minutes had passed and the website still hadn't been updated with an estimate, I called again.

"It's not as easy as we initially thought," the supervisor said. "Lightning hit one of the--"

"I'll be honest with you--" I glanced at the piece of paper I'd been keeping notes on. "--Sheila, I'm not overly concerned about

what

happened so much as I am about when our community can expect a restoration of services."

"I understand that, Mrs. Roth," Sheila said evenly. "But the crew needs time to evaluate and until they do, we can't give an accurate idea of when service may be restored."

"They must have some idea," I argued. "Like, an hour? Two hours? Three days? Even a rough estimate--"

"It won't be in an hour," she said exasperatedly. "For something like this, you can expect a minimum of eight to twelve hours of interrupted services. Based on the weather and the complexity they're working with, my guess is that you won't see power back until tomorrow morning. Is that the answer you're looking for?"

"Yes, that was exactly what I needed to know," I said brightly. "Thank you, Sheila. You've been exceptionally helpful."

"Uh... thanks," she said. "I appreciate that. Please let me know if there's anything else we can assist you with, otherwise, we do apologize for the--"

And off she went into her on-script spiel. I listened politely, thanked her again, answered the quick two-minute customer service survey at the end of the call, and hung up. Taking a deep breath, I immediately switched back to the town Facebook page.

Unfortunate news, everyone

, I wrote.

Now, please keep in mind this isn't set in stone and may change, but currently the electric company says we're looking at sometime tomorrow morning before the power is back.

I went upstairs, informed my completely oblivious daughter that the storm had ended and the power wouldn't be back until the morning, and by the time I'd returned to the kitchen, the comments on the post had exploded.

Fuck!

said the first one.

This sucks balls.

I reported that comment immediately. The Minwack Falls Facebook page was intended to be family-friendly.

Ugh. Happy Friday everyone

, said the next.

Well there goes dinner lol

Oh nooooooooooo. @Liz Roth, do you know if anyone has a generator or backup power or something? Jeremy's out of town and I'm stuck here with the baby and I have nothing to warm her bottles up and I'm panicking. Please, can anyone help me?

We have one

, I replied quickly.

It's going to be okay, Mallory. I'll DM you after I talk to Scott. In the meantime, anyone who has a generator or other supplies who is willing to help out your neighbours, please respond here. I'll get everyone in touch with each other.

The "likes" on that comment poured in instantly.

"Scott?" I called, putting my phone on the kitchen table.

"Yep," came the distracted response.

I sighed and went to the living room. He was lying on the couch, legs extended and his phone held up over his head, and didn't put it down or glance at me as I entered the room.

"Is there gas in the generator?" I asked.

"Seriously, Liz?"

"What?"

"Let me guess." He put the phone down and sat up. "I'm going to say yes, there's gas in the generator, and then your follow-up statement is gonna be 'Great, I volunteered you to bring the generator over to Alice McGrady's so she can watch the end of her soaps' or 'I told Loni she could use it to run the coffee shop' or--"

"--or I said I'd talk to my husband because Mallory St. John's husband is out of town and she's on her own with a baby and no way to warm up milk," I finished.

"Exactly," he said. "So now after I work my ass off all day, I have to haul the generator around because

you

feel the need to volunteer my services for anyone in town."

"I told

one

person I would

talk

to you to see if you could help," I replied. "But it's fine. Mallory just won't be able to feed her baby because you're busy."

"So I look like a fucking monster. Thanks."

"I'll just tell her we're out of gas."

"Don't bother." Scott stood and tucked his phone into his pocket. "I'll go help her with the fucking baby milk. Like, she couldn't just use her tits? Isn't that what they're for?"

I bit back my response, which was that I'd heard from Alice McGrady that Mallory was devastated about the fact that she wasn't able to breastfeed, and that he was being an absolute prick about something he didn't understand at

all

.

"Thank you," I said instead.

Still, he grumbled and sniped and rolled his eyes the entire time he was loading up the brand-new gas-powered generator he'd absolutely

insisted

he needed when it went on sale just after Christmas, then slammed the front door before taking off down the street.

Moments after he left, Ramona barrelled down the stairs. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she threw the pantry door open.

"What are you doing with all this?" I asked as she rooted through the shelves.

"I'm going to the car so I can charge my Switch," came the muffled response.

She popped out with an armful of chips and Oreos. I looked at her, my mouth half-open. "That's going to drain your car battery."

Ramona rolled her eyes in that exasperating way only teenagers seem to manage. "I'll make sure I let it run for a bit."

She left the kitchen in a whirlwind before I could even ask about her resume. As the crack of the front door slamming behind her echoed in my chest cavity, I was struck again by just how different she'd become. It wasn't just the blue hair or the metal stud through her eyebrow or the heavy eye makeup and bright lipstick. It was everything: it was the amazing strength to stand up for herself and the infuriating inability to see the big picture. It was the rebellion I thought I'd avoided and the fear she'd get herself into trouble and the pride that she was so unapologetically herself.

I'd seen signs of it during our weekly phone calls and her infrequent visits home, but it wasn't until I'd arrived to help her pack up her dorm room that I realized I had no idea who my daughter

was

anymore. It had been hard enough when she left and I saw just how much I relied on her. How hard it was to be trapped in this big house with nobody home.

How much I missed her.

I told myself I'd go out to check on Ramona in a bit and kept watching the Facebook page for new posts. Of course, that meant as soon as my husband commented, I saw it.

One mama in distress saved!

he wrote on the post.

Who needs help next?

If you could bring the generator over so I could literally just open my garage door, I'd be so grateful

, someone replied immediately.

You are literally the town angel, @Scott Roth.

Amazing. This is why I LOVE Minwack Falls. Thank you, Scott!

Scott you're a total bro

Nah man

, Scott wrote.

We're all in this together. Gotta take care of our own, you know?

People were getting help, I told myself. That's what mattered. It didn't matter that he'd snapped at me repeatedly and complained the entire time. It didn't matter that he was taking credit for my work. People were getting the help they needed and that was that.

My thoughts couldn't fill the total silence settling through my house. There was no quiet buzz of electronics and appliances; the shuffle of fidgeting and footsteps was gone, and all that was left was my own heartbeat and shallow breathing. I distracted myself the way I knew best: first pouring a large glass of wine and then pouring my heart into the community. Scott was the town hero, but behind the town hero is the person making sure requests for help don't get buried under the various accolades and ridiculous memes.

That was the rest of my evening. Half-empty words of praise, a mostly empty bottle of wine, and a completely empty house.

**

Seeing the group picnic area empty was eerie.

I mean, sure, it was the middle of the night and no one was allowed in the park, but that meant it was one of the few times I'd seen it without people there. Instead of potluck-style dishes and paper plates on the tables, silver light reflected off the shallow gatherings of rainwater. Instead of laughter and screams as children explored the newly-upgraded playground equipment I'd spent three years fundraising for, all I could hear was the gentle splash of my footsteps on the pavement and the echoes of memories years gone.

The picnic area was prime real estate in the park because of the number of tables, the closeness of the playground, and the readily available access to the nearby Porta Potties. Hundreds upon thousands of birthday parties, BBQs, and other events had taken place there in the years I'd lived in Minwack Falls.

It was one of the busiest spots in the park, and as such, one of the least likely to attract trouble. There were often teenagers sitting on the tops of the picnic tables, loitering around and trying to act cool, but even I knew they were mainly harmless. Too many people could see them there, meaning the amount of trouble they were willing to get into was much lower.

No, it was the area down from the picnic space that attracted the most trouble. It was near the lake in the park--which was really more of a duck pond, but Lakeside had still stuck as the park name--surrounded by a grove of willows with the intent of making it a smaller, private sort of picnic area.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the secluded spot would be a natural gathering place for people shying away from the staring eyes of the town.

Unfortunately for them, I could see the path into the area from the living room of my house. For years, I'd battled with the town over Aaron Mulch, a deadbeat stoner who used it as his meeting point to sell weed. I'd called enforcement more than once after seeing teenagers stealing away through the trees to make out; it was one thing for me to turn a blind eye to the teenagers parked at the end of Drum Farm Lane, but another entirely to know what they were doing so close to where people's children played.

I'd gone into the park for no reason but to get away from my house, so when my feet led me past the picnic area and towards that little grove of trees, it wasn't entirely planned. Something deep inside me wanted to hide, maybe, and that's why I walked towards the pond. The vast openness of the park wasn't shielding me from my thoughts or memories or brokenness, and so I needed that space, that tiny bubble, to collect myself and sit in the silence and just...

Just think.

It was reckless. It was stupid. I was sheltered by the tiny problems in my tiny town. I mean, the worst I'd seen happen was a stoner selling weed--not even the bad drugs, just plain old cannabis--and teenagers doing what teenagers do. As a woman, I knew the fear that accompanied being alone at night, but I just... I'd done so much to make sure those things didn't happen in

my

town that I didn't even think about the fact that I was putting myself into a space even darker than the night surrounding me.

And it was

dark

. So dark that as I entered the clearing, I could barely make out the shape of the picnic table in front of me. I did, though, and I walked over to it, and I collapsed onto the bench with my back to the tabletop and my head in my hands as

it

washed over me.

"It" being pain, and heartbreak, and failure, and horribly crushing hopelessness that made tears prick in my eyes.

And then, terror.

"So hey, don't freak out, but--"

I screamed.

**

On Ramona's first birthday, I booked the group picnic space through the town office so I had all the proper permits. We didn't have a town coffee shop with Loni Perks's delicious baking yet, so I ordered the cake through the grocery store and made most of the food myself. Matching outfits, adorable party favours, a professional photographer... every last detail was perfect.

It had to be.

I

needed

it to be.

Scott and I had married young. Well, I was young. I was twenty and he was twenty-six, but at the time, those years felt like nothing to me. I loved him, and he loved me, and that was what mattered.

It was a good thing I felt that way, because most people thought the age difference was what mattered more, and it was why I was absolutely

determined

to show everyone that they were wrong, that we were going to make it, that I could be everything Scott needed and more even though I was younger than him.

My determination only grew when Ramona came along two years into our marriage. Now I had to be the perfect mother in addition to the perfect wife. Scott had rolled his eyes as I fretted about her birthday party, but he didn't understand the pressure I was under. He didn't understand the whispers and the judgement and the constant questioning I had to put up with. His family, my family, his mother, my mother, the town in general... it was a lot for anyone to handle, let alone a mother still in her early twenties.

Still, he indulged me as I made him wear a coordinating outfit and planned out every last detail. He obediently packed up the cooler and the various baby supplies I'd deemed necessary. As I was darting to the front door to bring another load of food out to the car, he caught me around the waist and pulled me in close.

"Relax, Liz," he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine.

"I don't have time to relax," I said, but he pressed against me harder and refused to stop kissing me until I started laughing.

"That's better," he teased, tracing his thumb along my lip. "I miss this."

That gaze of his made me shiver breathlessly. "Miss what?"

"You," he said. "Your smile. You and me just... you know." He pressed his hips forward. "I miss having you whenever I want you."

"You still can," I said, giggling.

He flicked an eyebrow up, then looked towards the door and back at me. Try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from glancing at the clock in the hallway.

"See," he said, gentle frustration threaded through his voice. "I don't get to have you whenever I want you. You've got us on a schedule."

I swallowed hard and looked from the clock back at him. Ramona wasn't due to be up from her nap for another twenty-six minutes and if we were a couple of minutes late, I could just say that she'd been cranky when she woke up, as much as it would drive me crazy to be late because I hated when people with children used that as an excuse to be late for everything. But Scott missed me, and he wasn't exactly wrong since we certainly didn't have as much time together as we usually did, and--