“Us?” I mumbled.
“The few of us that happened to be around when he dragged you into the hospital,” he said. I tried to nod, but nothing happened.
“Fire,” I said, trying to open my eyes. Things were swimming back to the top of my head, once more.
“I’m sorry, son. What they managed to pull out of your parent’s house wasn’t—well—,” the doctor started, then stopped. “I’m sorry.”
“The bones are—”
“Kevin told us that, too. Don’t worry. We’re going to bring that boy to rest, finally,” he said. I heard someone come into the room, and whisper “Doctor,” and then the hand on my chest patted one more time. “I have to go, now, but rest. You’re safe, and things are being taken care of. Rest.”
I tried to ask him to call my sister, but the moment his hand was gone, I felt heavy, and sank back into the ink ocean I’d been hovering over for the last few minutes. I sank deep.
Over the next week, people came to visit me to offer condolences about my parents. The story Bud made up was that I’d been in a rush to get back to the house after someone told me they thought my house was on fire. No one could know about the Sheriff. “A town is a very fragile thing, Mikey. It can be broken just like that,” Dr. Gantner had said, and snapped. It was loud, and made me jump. “Some of us know, though, Mikey. Some of us know what you did, and we’re grateful.” He treated me like a hero, and talked as if I’d been some great warrior.
I knew the truth, though. The thing in me knew, too: it was all an accident. All of it was just an accident. Maybe it was best no one know.
Kevin made it out of bed and came to stay in my room in the hospital. We spent a lot of time in the same room, not talking. I wanted to say things, to ask him things, but every time I was just about to speak, I realized I didn’t have any words. There were questions, but no words to go in them. I guess he felt the same. We watched a lot of television. I guess it would be better to say that the television was on a lot, though; I don’t remember anything that we saw. The noise was comforting.
I called my sister and broke the news to her. She sounded more relieved than upset. I understood that completely. I wanted to tell her about the sheriff; about Katy and about Randy and everything that happened, but I couldn’t. Every time I thought I might, all I could hear was Dr. Gantner’s finger’s snap like an explosion. “Can you exhange your ticket to come here, Michael?” she asked. I said I’d try. “You mind if I bring someone with me?” I asked. She paused for a second, then said “Sure.” I wanted to laugh, and tell her that it was the shortest sentence she’d ever uttered, but I couldn’t. There was the tickle of a funny thought down in that ink sea under things, but no laugh came up.
“I’m going to go to my sister,” I said during a commercial, “and you’re coming, too.” Kevin only looked over at me. He blinked, then looked back at the television screen, and said “okay.”
I never called Susan. I couldn’t go back to that city, or that job. Whoever the puppet was who’d been living my life the past few years didn’t exist anymore.
Toward the end of the stay in the hospital, Kevin and I had sex once. He cried the whole time. I asked him if he wanted to stop, and he shook his head. Even when we had to maneuver around my broken ribs, and he nearly fell off the bed, he still had eyes full of tears. Even while we laughed, holding each other, my shoulders were still wet.
Two weeks later, I went up to the isolation ward. I stopped at the desk, and showed them the paper Dr. Gantner had made for me. He’d left it under a cup of water and a few pain relievers. He’d known all along that I’d do this. The nurse looked it over once, then down at his watch. He looked up at me and barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
He got the key and walked me down to Mrs. McPherson’s door. He went to put the key in the lock, but I stopped him without looking. Through the window, I could see she was sitting on the bed with a pillow stuffed under her shirt. She was holding it with her hands, and rocking herself. Her eyes were closed. I could hear her singing. It was a lullaby. That was all I needed to see.
I turned and walked to the elevator without waiting for the nurse. He kept calling after me and asking questions, but I couldn’t hear him. In my head, I could only hear the sound of her singing. I hummed the song to myself as I got on the elevator, and smiled.
The announcement of the identity of the remains came the day I checked out. It brought reporters from all over to the state. Everyone wanted to know where Sheriff Aiken had gone. No one knew. Suspicion fell on him. I never asked Bud what they’d done with the body or the car, and he never volunteered the information.
I stayed with Kevin. We packed everything he considered essential into one suitcase. While we did, I thought about how fast things had gotten. Days were passing where I didn’t say a word. Time slipped past me.
At the funeral, the pastor spoke, but I couldn’t hear him. All I could do was look at the tiny casket and think ‘he’s there’. I knew he finally was. Dr. Gantner had brought Mrs. McPherson, who smiled to herself the whole time, and kept her hands on her belly, fingers splayed open. He stood near her. She met my eyes, once, and I thought for a second she might wink. It was as if she and I were the only ones who got some huge joke. She didn’t, though. Kevin stood by me the whole time.
I wanted the moment to last longer, but it didn’t. I can barely remember it; not like I remember the rest. They lowered the casket down and I stayed until the men were finally shoveling dirt onto the lid. Kevin took my hand and lead me back to the car. Dr. Gantner drove up; he’d taken Mrs. McPherson back to the hospital.
“Sorry to see you go,” He said, shaking my hand.
“No offense meant, but I’m not,” I said. He smiled and shook my hand one last time, then let go. He looked over at Kevin, and they hugged.
“You remember what I told you, young man,” Bud said.
Kevin nodded. “I’ll try.”
On the drive to the airport, I asked. “He said ‘your body is just flesh, son; no matter what people have done to it, it is still possible to remain pure.’”
I smiled to myself, and looked out the window, “He’s a smart man.”
“Yeah. I think he is.”
As we climbed above the clouds, the sun blazed from behind what was left of a storm front. The warmth came in through the window, tinting it orange and gold. I put my hand on top of Kevin’s, and smiled at him. His fingers gripped mine back. The warmth settled on my shoulder and my chest, and I wondered just how long it had been since I felt anything like it.
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 J. Warren. All rights reserved. Publication history of individual stories can be found at the beginning of this volume.
No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilm, and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in 2016 by Lethe Press, Inc.
ISBN-13: 978-1-59021-606-4
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously.
Cover design: Inkspiral Design