The Guest

by Emma Cline

“Tell me about him.” “I met him on the beach,” Alex said. “I don’t know. He’s blond.” “Blond!” Margaret almost clapped her hands. “Cute! I love it.”

Alex pushed open the sliding doors. Around the side of the house, she found the pool.

keep this girl away from the pool!!!!

Hundreds of years ago, their parents might have abandoned their babies in the woods. Instead, the neglect was stretched out over many years, a slow-motion withering. The kids were still abandoned, still neglected in the woods, but the forest was lovely.

But it did unsettle her. The idea of Jack unstable, vulnerable. What had he done to the girl? Or to himself. Jack in his oversized car and sheepskin slippers. Something not quite right. She was so bad at reading people, lately. Probably it had been a mistake to stay here with him. Another miscalculation.

“It’s not your problem,” Alex said. “I’ll figure something out.” But even as she said this, she could hear that she didn’t sound very convincing. That some part of her was still allowing space for someone else to solve her problem.

“Should we call someone?” He was waiting for Alex to say something. Waiting for her to have the answer. But she’d been thinking the same thing: how long before someone else deals with this?