Every part of that summer was thick. It was the most humid year in Wheelock since ‘52, more than a decade earlier, and the dense air stuck to you like sap. Walking up Aunt Aggie’s driveway, a dirt road winding up the mountain, was like wading through a pond more mud than water. It was a cicada summer too, the 17 year cycle coming to a close and unleashing a plague of never ending sound - buzzing that seemed to swell and drop like a symphony – dead cicada shells hanging from just about every surface available. Penny and I began the summer by carefully carrying these treasures back to our room, insects like these still being a commodity to us city folk, but by the end we found that crushing them between our fingertips was far more fun – and practical, considering the sheer quantity of them. Aunt Aggie’s property was also home to an abundance of skunk cabbage, shamelessly releasing its odor without consideration to whether us kids wanted to eat outside without gagging. The air, the noise, the smell – everything in Wheelock that summer took up space, though nothing did so quite like Elnora.

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Elnora once told me, as we were walking back from town with groceries for Aunt Aggie’s Sunday Dinner, that if she could start over, she would choose to be a creature that took up no space at all. An impossibility, maybe, she would admit, but she could at least be something smaller. Something that no one would notice when it disappeared. Looking back, this strikes me as a strange topic for a grown woman to dwell upon with a child, but it didn’t seem so at the time. Aunt Aggie didn’t like it when she talked that way, but Elnora knew I was a smart boy and that she could trust me to keep it a Between Us Secret. She said she had tried to disappear a few times before, but the birds always stopped her. Their eyes were too sharp to let her go before they wanted her to. 

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We were sent to live with Aunt Aggie in June because Mother was sick. I still don’t know exactly what with, but I remember it made her weak and easily tired. She was pale in the weeks before we left and prone to fainting spells when exerting herself. It wasn’t deadly serious – she was still able to work the front desk of Hattie’s Boutique a few times a week so long as she had a chair, but taking care of us when she got home was too much. So Penny and I were driven from Union City, New Jersey, by Mother’s Friend Carol, to Wheelock, Vermont in June of 1964. We saw Aunt Aggie a few times a year on holidays and we liked her very much, but we’d never stayed with her. Penny had never stayed with anyone before, a fact which manifested in the cloud of tears that followed her from room to room that first week. 

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Mother’s Friend Carol was one of the few people in our neighborhood who owned a car, but I whispered to Penny that it would’ve been faster if we’d walked. She was a prudish driver and rarely dared to approach the speed limit. When we finally arrived, Aunt Aggie was sitting out on the porch waiting for us. 

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Having spent the first decade of my life confined to the cramped and crowded subdivisions of Union City, I think part of me believed houses like this one only existed in fairy tales. Right on the top of the hill, quaint and homey, was a little yellow A-frame. The acre of cleared land surrounding the house was taken up by a garden and the homes of several animals (some chickens, goats, and a pig named Buster) and the rest of the property was woods. Someone had planted flowers around the perimeter of the porch, like a fur stole of pink and purple, broken only by the stone path that led from the driveway. Aunt Aggie had on a floppy sun hat and a green paisley dress which ended right above the knee. Her hair was strawberry blond like our mother’s and she wore it in twin braids. Next to her was her roommate Elnora, a cheerful woman we’d met only a few times before. Below her bobbed black hair, her face was dotted with freckles, barely visible on her browned skin. She wore overalls and a man’s blue shirt. Between them was the General, a brown and tawny mutt with three legs. 

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They all leapt up to greet us, Aunt Aggie running ahead to pull us into her arms. The General licked our hands and faces and jumped in excitement. I felt Penny stiffen in silent fear. She was always nervous around the dogs in our neighborhood, big, muscular animals that jumped against chain link fences and spewed foamy saliva with each bark. She accepted the General’s kisses with a white face. Elnora was close behind the others and crouched down to speak as soon as we were free from Aggie’s embrace.

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“Oh, I am so happy to have you guys here,” she said. “I know it’s tough to be so far from home, but I promise, you guys are gonna have a great time. There’s so much to do here: much more fun than Union City, you’ll see! You can help Aggie around the yard and with the animals, and whenever you want I can take you down to the river or out exploring. We’re gonna have so many adventures."

“Look,” she said, pulling two crudely carved tiny wooden hearts from her pocket. “I made you guys these. They’re little talismans to remind you of home. The wood is from a crate of apples your mother gave Aggie. That way, if you carry them with you, you can have fun and be happy here while still holding on to home.” 

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“Alright,” said Aunt Aggie. “Let’s not overwhelm them. I’m sure you’re all hungry after that long drive! I have cucumber salad waiting in the kitchen.”

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Mother’s Friend Carol eyed Elnora with some distaste and said she needed to get going, she’d stop for lunch on the way back. Aunt Aggie looked suddenly uneasy, murmured something I couldn’t quite catch, but Elnora smiled brightly and, taking our luggage in her arms, ushered us into the house while our aunt stayed behind to try to persuade our driver to at least take some food for the road. 

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The inside of the house was exactly what I’d expected. A hodgepodge of floral wallpapers and pastoral embroidery and dusty field guides stacked on every available bit of floor space. There wasn’t a single inch free from knick knacks or doilies or photographs. It was like walking into the nest of some animal that collected antiques and tchotchkes in lieu of shiny things. The room Penny and I slept in was the only space in the house relatively devoid of clutter. It looked like it had once been used as a study or a library, which made sense since, as Aunt Aggie explained to us, it was where Elnora normally would have slept and Elnora was fond of reading. With us there for the summer, they were forced to share Aunt Aggie’s room and our two cots took over the second bedroom. 

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I can’t quite see the room in my memory anymore. I know it was neat and I know there was a circular window covered in cobwebs out of which I would often stare at the night sky, so much brighter than the starless canopy back home, but I can’t envision much else. I didn’t spend an awful lot of time there anyway, so it’s no surprise that I remember better the curves of Webber Brook and the path to Flagg Pond. Those I could navigate with my eyes closed, even today. I know because I’ve done it in dreams and the mind doesn’t lie about those sorts of things. 

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More than anywhere else in my dreams about Wheelock, I go to the Bug Tree. Only partially because it was the first place Elnora shared a Between Us Secret with me. The Bug Tree was so called because, Elnora told me, that was where all the bugs came from. I was nine years old and not stupid and I told her so. I knew bugs came from wherever there were other bugs and certainly not from a dead oak tree on my aunt’s property. 

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“You’re right in some ways,” she had said to me. “I’ll give you that. There are bugs everywhere. But where do you think they came from? The original bugs come from here.”

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“Original bugs?” I asked.

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“Well there are loads of creatures out there with six legs and wings and a thorax and technically that makes them insects, but that’s all they are. Do you think something so intricate and beautiful could come from mindless, flying drones? No. It requires intention and intelligence. The bugs that come from this tree are special. Watch. You’ll see.”

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I watched. I waited. But they were just bugs, flying and diving in the usual thoughtless loops. My cheeks burnt with embarrassment. She was teasing me and I fell for it. Just as I was about to stand and scold Elnora, I paused. The same blue dragonfly that I had been watching stopped again to land on Elnora’s shoulder. In the same exact spot. I saw it ascend again, making a loop around the bug tree, settling on an ivy leaf, just as it had before. I stood in captivated stillness, watching it take off once more, make the same dash towards a nearby birch, hover there just for a moment and then— as I knew it would— settle yet again on that same dip in Elnora’s shoulder.

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 It was traveling in a circuit. 

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Just long enough so the casual observer would take no notice, but I had caught on. I watched it perform this ritual several more times. Then I turned my attention to others. Each bug— and there were thousands crawling and flying around the bug tree— had its own course of motion that it followed, with only one thing in common. They all touched Elnora, some staying there long enough to crawl over the same stretch of skin in perpetuity, others barely touching her before bouncing off again to repeat their dance. I had a sudden feeling that this was all a masquerade for my sake. They were doing their best to appear as normal insects, following predetermined choreography so as not to seem suspicious, so as to seem natural, but that had I not been watching, they would have swarmed her, reveling in every inch of her flesh. There was a twist in my stomach, one that would come again and again in my life, when craning my neck to see past the flashing ambulance lights to a wreck on the highway, squirming in my seat during certain horror movies, or frozen, ice chips in hand, as I walked back into the delivery room, my wife’s bloody split on full display. It was horror and disgust, coupled with an overpowering fascination, an urge to stay, to see. 

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I went back there a lot that summer, sometimes alone, sometimes with Penny, sometimes with the whole family, the General included. But the bugs never acted strange unless Elnora was there. She explained to me that I couldn’t bring stuff like that up in front of Aunt Aggie. It worried her and she might try to help in ways that Elnora didn’t want to be helped. So began the  Between Us Secrets. 

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There weren’t many, but each one felt enormous. When they came up, it seemed as though nothing was as stable as I once thought, and I alone had to be the bearer of that information. One of the gifts of childhood, however, is that unless you’re thinking of a thing, you’re not thinking of it. And so, most of the summer was ordinary. Penny and I played and got into mischief and explored the mountain. We had barbecues and went swimming in rivers. It seems now in my memory to be the most idyllic moment of my life. It was exactly what a summer in the country should’ve been for a boy my age, and I think even then I knew how rare and lucky that was. 

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Elnora wasn’t always around, though. Sometimes she would get sick and have to stay in her room for days at a time. When that happened, Aunt Aggie would get very busy around the house and always wore a pinched and worried expression. Sometimes I could hear Elnora murmuring things from the other side of the door. I tried to distract Penny with elaborate games I came up with on the spot, usually involving tests of agility and familial trivia, but I could tell the episodes scared her. 

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For the most part, though, things were normal until the beginning of August. That was when the first of the birds began to appear. It was hardly noticeable at first, just a few crows pecking around the garden, but it soon got worse. There would sometimes be entire murders stationed out in the yard, staring in the windows. But they only appeared when it was just Elnora and I in the house. Aunt Aggie would take Penny out for “girl’s trips” fairly frequently, and whenever she did, it would just be the two of us. I was the first one to point it out, but Elnora became obsessed. It seemed like she couldn’t wait for the girls to leave so she could watch the birds congregate out the kitchen window. When she got like that, nothing I said could get through to her. 

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“Do you see them, Eddie?” she’d ask. “What do they want? They’re trying to tell me something, I know they are. Seventeen years, godammit, and they won’t leave me alone. What more do they want from me?”

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Sometimes it scared me the way she talked. But I knew the birds were a Between Us Secret, so I never mentioned it to Aunt Aggie. As soon as the girls returned, the birds would suddenly be gone and Elnora would return to normal. There was only one time where I thought about breaking my promise. A great white owl sat on the fence post of the garden. All around her, crows flapped their wings and pecked at the ground. Elnora was in a trance. Her face, normally dark and full of color, was drained. Without a word, she disappeared into her room. When she came back, she was holding a small parcel wrapped in silk. 

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Sitting on her knees in the kitchen, she unwrapped it and began shuffling the cards within. I watched silently from the kitchen doorway, afraid any sound or movement would somehow break a spell. After a while, she laid out three cards. I peered over her shoulder and saw The Moon, The Devil, and the Ten of Swords written in swirling ink. I expected her to say something, to turn to me and explain, or shuffle and draw again. But she only sat in silent stillness. I waited for her to move. Minutes passed and her soundless vigil became more and more unnerving. 

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“Elnora?” I asked. There was no response. Not even a twitch to indicate she heard me. “Elnora, what’s wrong?”

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Nothing. I watched her, listening to the growing hum of cicadas out the window. Finally I stepped towards her, reaching out to touch her shoulder, when I stopped suddenly. The humming, the buzzing, unmistakable as the song of bugs, was not coming from outside. I leaned closer to be sure, and there it was, emanating in a vibrating rhythm from within Elnora. I felt my stomach sink, and I thought for a moment I might cry, purely out of panic and confusion.

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By some miracle, I heard the crunch of footsteps and the chatter of voices as Aunt Aggie and Penny made their way up the driveway. I ran from the kitchen and nearly crashed into my aunt on the porch. She laughed at my clumsiness for a moment before her eyes settled on my face. 

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“What,” she said, growing pale. “Is it Elnora?”

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I nodded weakly and she pushed past me into the house. She’d only made it a few steps when Elnora, appearing from nowhere, blocked her path. 

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“You’re in a hurry,” she said laughing. She was her normal self again, smiling brightly. There was nothing to indicate anything was wrong. “How was town?”

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Aunt Aggie was stunned for a moment. She looked back at me and I knew we both knew. “Fine. Good. It was Good.” 

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After that, Aunt Aggie stopped going on girls’ trips with Penny. The birds never came when Aunt Aggie was around, so things for a time were normal. Nothing strange happened again until the last night, exactly a week before Mother’s Friend Carol was supposed to bring us home. School would be starting soon and Mother was beginning to feel strong again. Penny and I had grown to love Wheelock and Aunt Aggie and Elnora and the General, but we were homesick all the same. 

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That last night, I discovered the circular window could open. I don’t know how I’d never noticed, but I guess it just never occurred to me to try. It looked so different from the windows in our apartment at Union City, I couldn’t imagine how it might work. But it was so hot that I decided to test it out. It was stuck at first, but with some effort it swiveled open on an axis in the center. Penny was already asleep and I settled back into my cot, relishing the night breeze on my cheeks. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than ten minutes when the buzzing woke me up. I tried to ignore it at first, but it just got louder and louder. It sounded similar to the eternal chorus of cicadas of that summer, but it seemed different. Less like a rhythm and more like a melody. A sad one, too. It seemed like it was coming from everywhere all at once.

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Then I noticed the flapping of wings. It sounded like dozens – maybe even hundreds – of birds were flapping around outside. I stared out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse. I saw nothing, but the noise grew louder. From downstairs, I heard the front door open and close. My curiosity getting the better of  me, I crept out of bed to see what I could. 

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I’ve never told a soul this, not my wife, not even my mother on her deathbed, but I swear it’s true. When I looked out the window, Elnora was walking through the yard. Except she wasn’t quite Elnora. Her body was black and glittering and moving. All around her, crows flew in a vortex, following her along as she walked. I wanted to call out to her, but my voice faltered. I only managed a squeak, but it was enough. She stopped in her tracks, and, after a pause, slowly turned to face the house. I realized, my stomach lurching, that she was covered in insects. Cicadas. They squirmed and crawled over her entire body like a second skin. Only her face was free. Her eyes met mine. And they were so, so sad. I’ve never seen anything like it since then, and I don’t think I will. I wanted to do something, to help her, but I was at a loss. I considered running after her. Elnora shook her head as if she could hear me. I know it’s impossible, but I swear, in that moment she spoke to me without moving her lips. Don’t follow me, her voice said. In the end, I walk of my own accord. Then she turned from me and continued her deliberate march until she disappeared into the treeline. 

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I was frozen in front of the window. I can’t say for how long. It seemed at one point, as I stood there, that I had fallen asleep in place and jolted awake. As if in a trance, I walked back to my bed. I fell asleep. 

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Aunt Aggie found her the next morning at the Bug Tree. I don’t remember a lot of the events of that day, but I know at some point I became conscious of sitting in a neighbor’s kitchen. Penny swears she could hear Aunt Aggie wailing even from there. Mother arrived that night with Carol who took us home. She stayed for a few days with Aunt Aggie before taking a series of buses back to Union City. When she returned she held us in her arms for a long time. Penny wept. I didn’t. My fingers fumbled with the wooden heart in my pocket. 

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Finally, when she released us from her embrace, she cupped both our faces in her hands. “Aunt Aggie’s friend was very sick,” she explained. “Sometimes people get sick like I did and how you do sometimes, but some people get sick in their hearts. Elnora was a very sad person and she did a very sad thing. But it has nothing to do with either of you. You made her last few months so filled with joy and happiness. Aunt Aggie says she never saw her happier than when she was playing with you two. But sometimes people are just too sick to keep going. It’s no one’s fault.”

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It seemed as though any time Elnora’s name or that summer was mentioned, the only thing people knew how to say was that it wasn’t my fault. But I knew that if it was anyone’s, it was mine. Later on I would hear hushed voices discussing her history of delusions, stories that became so real to her they’d take over her life. I heard them lamenting that if only she’d told someone, if only someone knew the intensity of her hallucinations, then maybe it could’ve been stopped. 

I knew. And more than that, I saw her in the yard. In another world, perhaps I would’ve told Aunt Aggie or run out and stopped her. But not this one. The cicada year was drawing to a close and, though I don’t believe she wanted to leave us, she knew what must be done. In the end, Elnora walked of her own accord.