Pile of Bones

by Bailey Cunningham

  “Can I use your phone?” she asked Carl. “I need to call my brother.”

  He blinked at her for a second, as if she’d spoken in a foreign language. Then he handed over the phone. She dialed Paul’s number. After four rings, the voice mail picked up.

  “I’m at the hospital,” she said. “Someone I know was in an accident. I’m sorry—I know you probably haven’t gotten much sleep. If Neil asks where I am, just say that I’ll be home soon. Make sure he eats something, even if it’s just toast and cucumber slices. Love you. Bye.”

  When she looked up, Carl and Shelby were gone. She approached the sliding glass doors, standing far enough away to keep them from opening. Shelby was at the triage counter, talking to a nurse. Carl was sitting alone in an orange plastic chair. She could simply go. She had no connection to these people, and they wouldn’t blame her for leaving. They were young and resilient. She looked at Carl again. He seemed small and papery, vanishing into the chair that resembled a bisected fruit. Shelby frowned at the clipboard she was holding. These were not people who’d ever spent much time in a hospital.

  Ingrid walked through the doors. It smelled the same as it had four years ago, when Neil was born. Nothing had changed. She walked over to Shelby and glanced at the form.

  “Do you have his wallet?”

  Shelby looked up in surprise. “I—yeah. Here—” She pulled it from her pocket. “It was all tangled up in his jeans. I almost didn’t see it. Luckily it’s purple. I don’t know anyone else with a purple wallet.”

  Ingrid took the wallet and the clipboard gently from her. “I can fill this out. You should go sit with Carl.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I have a four-year-old. I’m very good at filling things out.”

  Shelby nodded absently, then walked over to the bank of orange chairs.

  Andrew’s wallet made no sense. It was full of old movie stubs, folded receipts, and expired coupons. His health card had a deep crease, probably from the weight of all those useless scraps pushing down on it. She managed to fill out most of the details. Everyone fit on the form, no matter how complicated their life was.

  Ingrid walked over to where Shelby and Carl sat.

  “Is he allergic to anything?”

  “He once told me that he was allergic to microfilm,” Shelby said.

  Carl looked up. “Keflex? It’s a kind of penicillin, I think.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell the nurse.”

  Ingrid walked over to the triage desk. The nurse took the clipboard from her without looking up. “You can have a seat.”

  For the first six months of Neil’s life, nurses had told her that she could have a seat. When he was placed in an incubator, when his stomach didn’t work properly, when his fever shot through the roof and he went into convulsions—they always told her the same thing. You’re powerless. You might as well sit. But she had always preferred to stand. That way, if she heard his thin wail in the distance, she could make it past the desk before the nurse grabbed her.

  She returned to the chairs.

  “Did they say anything?” Shelby asked.

  “No. We’re not related, so they aren’t going to tell us much.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Someone should call his parents. Do they live in the city?”

  “His dad’s at a sales conference in Moose Jaw,” Carl said. “And his mom is—somewhere with nice weather. I’m not even sure if she has a phone.”

  “Does he have any other family?”

  “Just us.”

  “All right. We’ll just have to wait, then.” Ingrid handed her the wallet. “There’s one vending machine that works on this floor, if you want coffee.”

  “You don’t have to stay,” Shelby said. “I mean—it’s very kind of you—but—he’s our friend. I’m sure you must have things—Neil—”

  Ingrid sat down next to her. “He’s with his uncle. He was a preemie, you know. Barely two and a half pounds. Like a walnut in my hand. They had him in an incubator for nearly two months. He’d stop breathing, sometimes, and I’d have to tickle his feet.”

  “You must have been scared.”

  “I was. I still am. But he’s fine. Andrew’s going to be fine.”

  “There was so much water.”

  “They’ll pump the rest of it out. It’s amazing what a body can go through.”

  “You saved his life. You and—”

  “Not here,” Carl whispered. “We barely got out. Don’t tempt fate.”

  “We were lucky,” Ingrid agreed.

  In the distance, they could hear the horses. They’d all assumed that it was Latona, coming with her armed entourage. When she realized that Pulcheria was gone, she would take her time punishing them. Morgan was still holding Roldan’s body, while Babieca shivered on the damp wharf, blood trickling slowly from his nose. They must have looked ridiculous: four people who’d gotten lost on their way to the sea. One of them was on his back. From a certain angle, he could have merely been asleep.

  Roldan’s dead, she’d thought, as the horses approached. He made a deal with the lares, and this was the price. Pulcheria’s life for his own.

  But when the rider appeared, it was Felix. He had two saddled horses with him. They eyed the water nervously but stayed in place.

  “We don’t have much time,” he said. “She’s coming.”

  It was hard getting Roldan onto the horse. Babieca mounted first, and then Felix and Fel managed to hoist the body up. Felix undid his belt and fastened them together. Roldan sagged against Babieca like a sack of flour. They rode like this, in terrible silence, until they reached the house at the wall.

  The sound of the sliding door brought her back. Ingrid watched a young couple approach the triage desk. They were given clipboards with pens attached by string. They sat down a few feet away. The man just stared at the pen, as if it were something from outer space. Ingrid knew that feeling. Your mind prompts you with familiar information—This is my address—but your hands are suddenly on strike.

  She looked at Carl. He was holding something in his hand: a small, brownish plastic figure that looked like a spiked turtle.

  “What is that?”

  “The chamberlain.” He slowly moved the figure’s arms, up then down, as if the turtle-demon were climbing or swimming through the air.

  “What?”

  “It’s a toy,” Shelby clarified. “Andrew bought it two days ago. It’s some weird creature from The Dark Crystal.”

  “He lost everything,” Carl said. “They even took the clothes off his back.”

  “I never saw the movie.”

  “It’s one of his favorites.” He continued to pose the shriveled creature. “Although he couldn’t watch the emperor turn to dust. He always had to skip that part.”

  “Why did they steal his clothes?”

  “He lost a duel.”

  “Sounds like a strange culture.”

  “Yeah. Skeksi politics are kind of fucked.”

  Shelby got up and walked over to the triage desk. Ingrid couldn’t quite hear what she was saying to the nurse. She looked at the young couple again, who were comparing clipboards. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed with Neil, to feel his dreaming breath on her cheek and smell his apple shampoo. He was probably asleep on the couch with Paul. Unless he’d outlasted his uncle, which he often did. It would be harder to get him to sleep, in that case, but she secretly hoped for it. Then she could spend an hour in delicious conversation with him, which almost made up for her absence.

  “He’s in room two-twelve,” Shelby said. “They’ve got him sedated, but we can go in.”

  Ingrid led them down the hallway. She wanted to go in the direction of the neonatal care unit, but resisted the urge. It had been four years since Neil was in an incubator, jaundiced and wide-eyed, connected to alarms that would ring when he stopped breathing. Now he was doing puzzles and playing online games. His ability to cycle through menus astounded her. Soon, he’d be explaining all the
features on her smartphone.

  The room was dim and quiet. A faded blue curtain served as a partition. Andrew slept with an IV in his arm. He wore a pair of green hospital socks, which reminded her of elf slippers. All they needed were bells. His clothes were neatly folded on a chair next to the bed.

  “I’m going to steal another chair,” Shelby said. “I’ll be back.”

  Carl sat on the edge of the bed. Gently, he placed the toy in Andrew’s hand.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said.

  He didn’t reply. His eyes studied the monitors.

  Ingrid reached into her bag. She wanted to grab a bottle of water, but instead, her hand closed around a library book. The Sneetches. It was one of Neil’s favorites. They must have renewed it a hundred times. It would have been easier to just buy a copy, but he loved the ritual of signing it out. The demagnetizer made such a satisfying thump when it scanned the book, and the librarian always talked to him.

  “Here.” Ingrid passed him the slim volume. “You can read to him, if you like.”

  “He won’t be able to hear me.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Carl opened the book to the middle. In the picture, a crowd of star-bellied Sneetches were all jumping into the stranger’s wondrous device. These odd creatures, with their exclusive marshmallow roasts, were like hipsters following the latest trend. They placed all of their trust in a man whose last name was McBean. Carl cleared his throat and began to read:

  All the rest of that day, on those wild screaming beaches,

  The Fix-It-Up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches.

  Off again! On again! In again! Out again!

  Through the machines they raced round and about again….

  Shelby arrived with the second chair. She was about to say something, but when she heard Carl reading, she fell silent. It reminded her of how Paul would wander in as she was reading to Neil. At first, he’d be in the middle of something. But, listening to her voice, he’d gradually stop whatever he was doing. Sometimes he’d sit down, but just as often, he’d stand in the middle of the room: brother, interrupted. Everyone needed to hear stories. They often didn’t realize it until they found themselves caught up in one.

  Just as Carl said, “You can’t teach a Sneetch,” Andrew’s eyes began to flutter. Slowly, he came back. His expression was glassy from whatever they’d given him. Demerol, most likely. He coughed, then winced from the pain.

  “Hello, sir,” Carl said, putting down the book. “How do you feel?”

  “Like there’s glass in my throat.”

  “They pumped your stomach,” Ingrid said. “You’re going to be sore.”

  He looked at her strangely. “We were at Carl’s place together. Then—” He frowned. “I don’t remember what happened after that.”

  Shelby sat down by the bed. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “Well—” She looked at Carl for a moment. “You fell into Wascana Lake.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “It was dark, and you slipped.”

  “Were we walking home?”

  “Yes. We took a shortcut through the park.”

  “I don’t like it there at night. The ducks get angry.” He frowned again. “What was I doing so close to the water?”

  “You thought you saw something,” Carl murmured. “But it was just a shadow.”

  “Oh.” He looked down at the toy in his hand. “Hey. This guy. I remember buying him at Tramp’s. Did you bring him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thanks.”

  His eyes started to close. Then he looked at Carl. “Were you reading to me?”

  “A little. Yeah.”

  “That’s funny.”

  “Should I keep going?”

  “S’okay. I’ve heard that one before.” He suddenly looked at Ingrid. “Did you walk home with us? Were we having a marking party?”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. You must be tired. I sure am.”

  “It’s okay if you want to go back to sleep.”

  “I may just do that.”

  He closed his eyes again. Within seconds, he was snoring quietly.

  “I can’t do this,” Carl said. “I can’t lie to him.”

  Shelby touched his hand. “We don’t have a choice.”

  “How can we—I mean—” He looked at Ingrid. “You’ve been doing this for longer than us. You know more. Isn’t there a way around the rule? Some exception?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “This is nuts. We can’t just pretend. He’s going to figure it out.”

  “He doesn’t remember any of it,” Ingrid said. “You know how this works. Roldan’s gone. That part of him no longer exists.”

  “There must be something left.”

  “There isn’t. The park protects itself. He doesn’t remember a thing.”

  Carl seemed to shrink into the chair. Ingrid thought about the time when Fel had nearly died. She’d come close to forgetting it all. A few moments more, and the miles would have bled out onto the ground, leaving only confusion behind. When your park ego died, that was it. You remembered nothing. Some people rediscovered the park—decades later, when everything about them had changed—but most never found their way back. They continued on with their lives, always wondering about that strange night that they couldn’t explain.

  “We could just tell him,” Carl said. “If anyone was going to believe such a weird story, it would be Andrew.”

  “If you tell him,” Ingrid replied, “he’ll never find his way back. He’ll always doubt. And you could be denied access, too. The rules are there for a reason.”

  “The rules are bullshit.”

  “It’s better for him if you say nothing.”

  “How are we supposed to hide this from him?”

  “He has a point,” Shelby said. “Andrew sees us all of the time. How are we going to explain where we go in the middle of the night?”

  “You’ll just have to get creative.”

  “He notices everything.”

  “You may have to distance yourself from him.”

  “No,” Carl said.

  Ingrid lowered her voice to a whisper. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re all being hunted. If you want to protect your friend, the best thing you can do is stay away from him.”

  She knew that lie well. Even before Neil was born, she’d hidden the park from Paul. What was she supposed to say? Can you cover my shift while I strap on a gauntlet and fight in the Hippodrome? Can you babysit for me while I stand guard outside a whorehouse? She told him that she was studying for her comprehensive exams at the library. Paul didn’t realize that comps took only a year to prepare for. He was so far removed from academia that whenever she mentioned something about it, he’d nod politely, then go back to playing Mass Effect. He was so proud of her. My sister the doctor! Even when she reminded him that she’d only be a doctor of philosophy, he still pretended to bow and asked if she could write him a prescription for painkillers. Her baby brother. He loved her fiercely, and all she did was lie to him.

  Ingrid watched Carl as he put the chamberlain through a series of poses. Men and their action figures. When Neil first started yelling Destroy the pigs! and insisting that Paul build him a catapult, she feared that he was entering some inevitable stage of violence. Maybe that was better than princesses, though. Lots of her friends on the Regina Moms forum complained that their daughters lived and breathed princesses. Everything had to be pink and covered in sparkles. At least those damn wingless birds were teaching him about trajectories and ballistics, or so she told herself while listening to him recount the heroics of Ice, Lightning, and Laser.

  Carl and Shelby were talking quietly. She chose that moment to slip out of the room. At this point, they didn’t really want her advice. They would have to work things out on their own. Losing a member of your company was terrible. The rules were cl
ear on how to handle it, but they couldn’t prepare you for the seismic aftereffects. Andrew might never see Anfractus again. Roldan had been his guide, his Virgil. Now the auditor was nothing but water in the grass, a dark impression that would fade by morning. If the park chose not to reveal itself to Andrew, he would spend the rest of his life wondering if his friends were keeping a secret from him. The half-life of their lies would cast a subtle radioactivity around everything they did. Their hollow excuses would fill him with dread, but what could he say? These were his friends. He had to trust them.

  She walked into the waiting room just as the doors were sliding open. A small spark in a yellow coat burst through them, his arms full of brightly colored stuffies. He saw her and began to jump in ecstasy, nearly dropping the plush birds.

  “Mummy! That is mine mummy! Mine Uncle Paul brought me here in the car, because he knows how to drive!”

  He flew to her. She picked him up, getting a faceful of stuffed animals.

  “Hello, my sweet. I see you brought your friends.”

  “I brought Ice, and Laser, and Monster, to protect you.”

  “That was very thoughtful.”

  “And the red bird is in mine pocket, because he has no bubble and could not survive in space with the others.”

  Paul walked through the doors, carrying two coffees. He wore a faded brown pullover, and his hair stood up at odd angles. He must have passed out on the couch.

  “He heard your message on the answering machine,” Paul said, handing her a coffee. “Then he woke me up and said you were in the hospital with a broken tail feather.”

  “We brought tape,” Neil said into her ear.

  She put him down gently. “That was a good idea. Mummy’s tail feather is fine, though. It’s one of my friends who had to visit the hospital.”

  “Does your friend need tape? We have a lot!”

  “He wouldn’t get into the car unless I agreed to bring all my hockey tape,” Paul said.

  “My friend is going to be fine,” Ingrid told Neil. “He had a bit of an accident, but he’s resting now.”