I went into my room, and shut the door behind me. The quiet, the alone came crashing down on me. I sat my shoes down next to my suitcase. I didn’t need to look; I knew that everything in it had been folded neatly. I sat down on the bed, and even with no lights on, I could tell my vision was getting blurry.
I cried. Something I hadn’t done in a few years. I wanted Kevin, or Sarah—I wanted someone so that I didn’t have to carry all this alone. I thought about how Kevin had carried this alone for so long, and that made it hard to breathe. I doubled over myself, my head near my knees. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be away from this house, this town. I knew that, down in the suitcase was a ticket I could exchange at any time for a return trip. I could go in the morning as soon as the airport opened, in fact. I looked at my watch; six hours until eight a.m. Six hours. I could sleep six hours, get up, get a shower, and go. I wouldn’t even have to say goodbye to anyone. I could just leave.
I was able to breathe, again. The crying slowed down. I kept thinking ‘six hours’. I took my socks off, and thought, I can patch things up with Susan. If I got home that early, I could catch her before she left for work.
I’ve hear a lot of people say ‘I was asleep before my head hit the pillow’. I always thought it was a stupid expression. That night, though, I honestly don’t remember laying down, or the thirty-minute shifting and re-shifting that I normally do. I went from thinking I could catch Susan before she left for work to the dream. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t had that dream. I want to call it something other than that, though.
It was like a telephone call from Randy.
What I remember is this:
I was standing in a room with only one light. It was a big, upside down, round metal dish with a light inside. The dish hung from a long cord that went somewhere into the darkness straight up. It was at head level, so that if I wanted to see inside it, I’d have to duck a bit.
At about waist level, underneath the light, was a long metal table. It was about seven foot long. Don’t ask me how, but I was sure that was its measurement.
The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. I could tell from the shapes of the shadows, though, that this room had more than one sink on the wall, and that there were many small tables surrounding this bigger one. There were odd shapes of various sizes on those other tables. The walls were made from tile; I could tell from the way the light was bouncing off of them. From time to time, water would drip, and the echo made me more certain that the room was tiled.
On the table in the center was a large, nearly clear plastic bag. It was about four and a half foot long. A zipper ran straight up the middle. Either I whispered the word ‘body bag’ or someone else did. I found myself staring at it for a moment. I wanted to turn and leave, but I couldn’t. For some reason, my legs weren’t moving.
All around me, other sounds were echoing off the tiles. Sounds of a child pleading with someone to stop what they were doing. The sounds of a dentist-office drill bounced around for a time. There was a sound like a buzz saw, only smaller.
I could make out something sort of pale-peach in color inside the bag. I knew it was a body. I knew it.
I started to walk forward, even though I didn’t want to. I was sure that whatever was in that bag was going to wake up any moment. I was sure of it. I knew it was going to wake up and destroy me, somehow. I kept expecting to see its arm move, its fingers reach for the zipper. The sounds all died away to faint echoes, and I was standing an inch from the table. I kept thinking ‘no, no, no’, but my hands reached for the zipper. Even at that point, I was still waiting for the arm to move.
I unzipped the zipper, and all sound stopped. All I could hear was the thunder of obvious silence. The bag fell away, and inside was Randy. His eyes were open, and his lips were parted. It looked as if, any moment, he was going to say something. I stared at his face, his body. I reached up, again thinking ‘no’ the entire time, and put my hand on his chest. My fingers were instantly ice cold.
Then he blinked, and I jerked my hand away. He blinked again, and his head turned to the side. His eyes focused in on me. His chest never moved, though.
“I can’t,” I said, “I just can’t.”
He didn’t say anything, only smiled. His lips moved closed, and he smiled. He blinked once more, then closed his eyes. Someone whispered “Angels and ministers of grace, defend us,” then whispered it again. The sounds all came back, and the whispering continued. Someone kept pleading for a defender.
I woke up lying flat on my back, my hands at my sides, and my head lolled toward my right shoulder. I was in the exact same position Randy had been on that table. I immediately sat up. Outside the window, the sky was a light blue. I felt more than heard my parent’s door open. I knew it was my mother; the footfalls were quiet. He wouldn’t have worried about anyone else’s sleep. I followed her in my head with each creaking stair.
I wanted Kevin there beside me. I wanted to roll over and watch him sleep.
Downstairs, I heard someone mumble. I thought for a moment that my mother might be talking to herself. She had always done that; had imaginary conversations with my sister for leaving socks on the living room floor or me for leaving the kitchen light on all night. I was smiling to myself when I heard the other voice mumble back. I stopped breathing. I turned on my side and listening with my whole body, every muscle tense to the point of popping.
Old houses like this one were made so that everything that went on could be heard from any point in the house. Before baby monitors, parents had to be able to hear a crying child no matter where they were. I’d always wondered if my parents had heard me sneaking back in, and one visit after I’d moved out, I’d heard my sister talking to her girlfriend at the time. The doors between the rooms had been closed, and she had been whispering. That was how I’d found out she was a lesbian. It was also what made the utter silence of my parents’ bedroom frightening.
It went on like that for what seemed like years. Her mumble, a pause, and then a lower rumbling in response. I felt the pressure change, then, and heard the front door creak. It only did that when it opened. With my eyes closed, the image of Kevin sleeping came back, only it wasn’t him lying beside me; it was Randy. I was looking at the sun on his face as it might have been had he lived to my age. At any moment, I knew it was going to turn toward me and speak, and I thought that I would scream if it did. I opened my eyes just as the pressure in the house changed: the front door had just closed.
I heard the creaking as my mother came back up the stairs. I heard the ‘click’ as she closed her bedroom door. Who had she been talking to? I only heard the front door after the mumbling had stopped; whoever she was talking to had been inside, already. The voice had been low, manly. Who had she been talking to if not my father? I hadn’t heard him go down the stairs; I’d have known his steps.
Like a dark cloud, the thought came over me. I knew who it was in that instant, but I shook it from my mind. A chill ran over my skin, and my teeth started to chatter. It was hard to breathe.
What if Kevin was wrong, though? What if he’d made it all up?
Why would he? Why go so far as to beat himself up just to—to what? Still, for all the reasons that didn’t exist for him to make it up, there were just as many for him never to tell me about any of it. If the sheriff was the monster he claimed, he was putting himself in danger. At any minute, should Aiken find out, Kevin could be killed. I wanted to call him just then. I wanted to hear him mumble into the phone and get angry with me to prove he was alive.