“She was no victim. In fact, I think she’s the one who crashed the car while Dad was driving.”

On one hand I’m not surprised we’re talking about Mom and Dad, given Rini told me less than an hour ago that I might form a new story around their deaths. But on the other hand, this conversation feels like a fantasy. In over two decades, Adam and I haven’t spoken about our parents’ car accident. I’m shocked, not only by his twisted theory that Mom killed Dad, but by the mere suggestion that it was anything other than an accident. The police report was straightforward.

They were driving along the Saw Mill River Parkway, a narrow and treacherous strip of road. If you’ve ever had a car zoom by you in the right lane while you frantically try to hold the ground between the median guardrail and the two-lane highway’s center dotted line, the fact that there aren’t more fatal accidents is surprising. It was the middle of the day. My father was sober behind the wheel. They were both wearing seatbelts.

The car crashed into the median at a high rate of speed. It flipped an estimated one to three times to where it lay, unmoving, until an SUV came barreling around the sharp curve and crushed their BMW. Both were pronounced dead at the scene. Time of death put the proximate cause in the hands of the speeding SUV, and there was no evidence of foul play. Nana told us so. We had no reason not to believe her.

“It was an accident,” I insist.

“What if it wasn’t?”

I want to tell him he is sick. I want to tell him he is wrong. But I spot a light brown mass emerge from the thick trees, illuminated by the headlights of an oncoming car.

“Adam! There! A family of deer.”

In my mind, I’m yelling, but I can barely hear my own voice. I’m captivated by their presence. As if we’re the ones intruding on their space rather than them encroaching on this narrow highway.

“I can beat them. Let them cross behind us,” Adam says.

The deer are moving quickly. They are so beautiful.

“No, Adam. Slow down.”

The deer halt their gallop at the edge of our lane as a white pickup truck zooms by in the other direction. The biggest one steps out, creeping into the lane. He darts backward when a beige minivan honks.

I watch the speedometer move from thirty-five to forty to fifty.

“Adam, please.”

The family of deer takes off across the road in front of us. Adam stops in time.

“That was close,” I say, relieved.

I never see the Subaru from the westbound lane swerve to avoid hitting a single baby deer that darted out at the last minute, frantic to join her family. I only understand what’s happened behind us when Adam’s Acura bucks forward. The car clips our rear quarter panel and sends us into a tailspin.

“Hold on,” Adam shouts, though I don’t know what to hold on to. He turns the steering wheel hand over hand.

One rotation, two rotations, spinning like we’re on a ride at the Suffolk County Fair. Just like when I was a kid, I want off.

The first thing I see when I wake again is the deer. The family of deer that were on the side of the road. But that cannot be right. The deer were there before the crash, not after. And I should be in the car, but I’m walking in the grass next to them. It’s a hazy shade of daylight, like winter.

There are four grown deer, and four fawns in various sizes. Strange as it sounds, I recognize them all. There’s Adam and Aimee, my three nieces, me and Ted, and our child. Our baby.

I saved your lives, I say. I’m so glad.

But it wasn’t enough to save yours, a buck says.

Look at the sky—the world is ending, one of the does says.

I reach my hands out, palms up. The rain turns to blood. It pours down from the black clouds.

What will you do? they ask.

Will you save me, Mommy? the littlest one asks.

Tears sting my eyes. I shake my head. If it were the end of the world, being with my baby would make me lose my mind. I would panic, wanting to save her somehow. I don’t know if that makes me a bad mother, but it’s the truth. I’d be a wreck and my baby would sense she wasn’t safe.

I choose him, I say, pointing to the largest buck.

Him? they ask.

I explain: The girls should be with their mom.

Three of the fawns nuzzle the doe.

Not him?

I shake my head, fighting back tears.

Ted would be good with the baby. He is calmer, more stable. He would keep her safe at all costs.

The smaller buck huddles the fawn closer to him.

I choose Adam.

I walk over to the larger buck and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my face into his bristly coat.

If the world were ending, he’d crack open a beer. He’d point out the sunset. He’d sit next to me, his presence enough to lull me into carefree comfort.

Even watching this strange vision play out in my mind, it never occurs to me to wonder if I’m dead. All I know is if the world were ending, I’d want to spend it with my brother.

RINI

This is quite a chaotic start to the Moon Men event. Adam and Margot had a run-in with a deer that left them unharmed but Margot cranky and irritable. When she walked in the house on Adam’s arm, they were still arguing about what had happened. Margot wanted to go to the emergency room for fear she might have a concussion. Adam insisted she did not hit her head, but that she passed out.

According to Adam she had been safely wrapped in her seatbelt, airbag cushion over the dashboard. Farah gave her a once-over and declared that she did not present any of the concerning symptoms of brain swelling.

“If I didn’t hit my head, why did I pass out?” Margot asks Farah.

“It could have been any number of reasons, including anxiety, fear, or emotional distress. Your blood pressure is fine, your pupils are responsive, and you have no signs of physical injury.”

“Shall we cancel the Moon Men event?” I ask.

A chorus of yeses and nos ring out at once.

Margot looks up at me from the couch with daggers in her eyes, like our conversation about her parents’ car accident had caused her own.

“If no one wants to make the call, I’ll use Ted’s words from the first night and elect to keep things on track.”