“Hadn’t really thought about it too much yet.” He took a sip of wine. “Lillian prefers heading off to the lake, Alton’s too far away.”
“Yeah, of course. A little easier for me, I suppose.” Karen sighed. “They really get along don’t they?” She turned to take in a view of her backyard where Emily was chasing Lany, her tan cocker, in circles. Karen’s daughter, Ruth, was right behind, cheering them on.
“Um, who? Eh. Oh, yeah, the girls. They really do. Emily loves coming over here to play. She practically begs to spend time with Ruth.”
“I’m so proud of Ruth. Look at her. She’s so motherly when it comes to Emily. It does my heart good. Ever since Danny’s wreck… It’s just been really hard for her. They were really close. We all were.”
Ryan frowned as he clutched his glass tighter. “I can’t even imagine.” He noticed that Karen hadn’t taken off her wedding ring, even though it had been some time since Danny’s death. It made him want to hug her and say it would be okay.
A bang came from out in the street when a passing car backfired, making him twitch. Lany took off in the opposite direction of the noise, pointed ears alert. Emily chased after.
“He was a good guy,” Karen went on as if she hadn’t heard the sound. “I couldn’t have asked for a better father for my children.”
“I’m sorry. I really am. It happens to the best people.”
“It’s okay.” Karen gave a start and tucked a lock of curls behind her right ear. “It’s getting better with time, but you know, it’s hard some days.”
“Well, I’m glad that you, eh, let me bring Emily over here to play. It’s nice to have a break.” Ryan reached his glass over the fence to clink it against Karen’s. She returned the favor. “I take her to Mom’s Day Out, or Dad’s Day Out, whatever you want to call it. She gets to interact with other kids but not like this. There’s something, something special about this time.”
Karen grinned into her almost empty glass, unable to look at Ryan. “Yeah. There is, isn’t there?” She chewed on her bottom lip as if considering the risk of what she really wanted to say.
This was a familiar place they found themselves. Ryan wasn’t positive what her words would be, but he felt they would include inviting him over during summer term while she isn’t teaching, Emily at Dad’s Day Out, and most importantly, Lillian at work. There would be a few additional glasses of wine while sitting on the couch chatting idly, then one of them, he wasn’t sure who, would make the first move. It would be new and exciting, like pulling off a heist under the noses of a hundred armed guards, or perhaps acting as a spy to gain critical information of national security. It wouldn’t take long before they’d be upstairs, peeling away what thin layers of clothes held back their bodies’ natural expression. And it would be one hell of a thrill; the chemistry was undeniable, like potassium chlorate and gummy bears. It would be a moment where he could connect with someone for the first time in a long time. A moment she wouldn’t feel alone after the passing of her husband.
And like Lawrence had told Ryan the other day, it would be his fault no matter how Lillian had driven him to this. He couldn’t live with the guilt.
The fence between Ryan and Karen was all that kept them from making the most exciting mistake of their lives, and they both knew it. Given Ryan’s state of mind, and his uneasy marriage, it was the only remaining defense to his morality. He was ashamed in knowing this.
As Karen’s steel blue eyes fixed on him, he wanted to knock over the fence, world be damned, and kiss her even though he knew it was wrong. Wronger than wrong. But it was what his soul needed so badly. He was alone and Lillian didn’t care. Peter was more important to her than him.
A rising whoosh of air came from the street, accompanied by the loud thumping of pop music. Ryan could have sworn Taylor Swift was telling his approaching wife to shake it off. That wasn’t good.
“Oh, shit. Didn’t take long to get down the Farty today.”
“Here.” Karen reached out. “I’ll take your glass and return it later.”
Ryan threw the remainder of its contents down his throat and handed the empty vessel to Karen. “Come on, Emily, Mama’s home!”
Lillian rolled into the driveway and came to a quick stop.
“Same time tomorrow?” Karen asked in a whisper as she took off.
Ryan winked and recovered Emily from the gate at the front of the fence.
Lillian slammed the car door shut.
“Hey, honey. You all right?”
Chapter 20
As was normal lately, Emily got up long before her Daddy. He had been sleeping later, sometimes all the way until the room was so hot she wanted to take her clothes off. She laid mostly still for a long time in their bed, shaking her Barbie around and pretending as if it was talking to a new friend, the grey penguin.
She wriggled free from his arms and got down onto the floor. The curtains drew back as she searched for doggies. She knew her Dada would want to go outside today, and hoped they were gone. She couldn’t remember why she didn’t care for doggies anymore, but knew on some level that they were just mean.
“Dada,” she said in singsong. “Wake up.” Her Barbie in the black jacket danced across the windowsill, toes tapping lightly against the edge. “No go dis car? Blue dis on pyr, Bahbee. No? No… Shew doe get down.”
A mangy dog strolled past their house on the street, sniffing at plants and trash. Emily didn’t flinch. She was safe inside the house with her Dada. Or, was her Dada safe inside because of her? Could she keep him safe from the doggies?
“Dada,” she sang again, and her Dada didn’t stir. She left her place at the window and went to the closed door, staring at it for a while. She saw the edge of Dada’s No No Toy on top of the dresser. His No No Toy would scare the doggies away.
She reached for it, the dull metal with plastic grip gleaming in the golden light that poured through the front window. “Dada, I want. Pweese.” She reached again, fingers only making it halfway to the handle. Why did Dada always put things like this out of reach? She searched the room for a long time, looking for something to stand on.
“Hmm,” she said, putting a finger to her chin mimicking her father’s gesture, considering her options.
She put a box before the dresser and took a step. The top of the box collapsed and she fell over, bumping her head against the side of the dresser.
“Ouch,” she whined and tried once again. This time instead of hitting her head she twisted her arm a little. “Dada, help.” She climbed up onto the bed. “Dada, help.”
Her Dada didn’t stir.
She gave his shoulders a shake. His face and clothes were wet.
The bed was tall enough she might could jump for the No No Toy from here. She inched towards the edge of the bed and tried to reach. Still too far. “Dada, help. I need.”
Her Dada didn’t stir.
She took a flying leap off the bed, fingers catching the corner of the dresser and crashed onto the floor. The No No Toy was almost shaken loose. Tears welled up in her eyes as she scrambled back onto the bed in need of Dada’s comfort, her injured arm now clutched in her hand.
“Dada,” she wailed again and again. “Wake up, Dada.” Her Dada didn’t stir. “Dada!” she screamed, knowing something wasn’t right. She threw her arms around him and found his skin was hot. She recoiled, holding her arm. “Dada!”
He gave no response.
She slapped him across the face, her heart running away from her like a car on a steep hill without brakes. “Dada, pweese wake up.” She felt herself slipping away. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t holding her. Why? “Dada!”
Her Dada didn’t stir.
Chapter 21
“Dada.” The heavy word twisted its way through a keyhole in reality filled with rust. “Wake up! Wake. Up!” The tender voice so faint he wasn’t sure where it had come from, who it was. He was so exhausted he couldn’t bear to acquiesce. He just need a little more rest. Just a
little. Surely he could hit the snooze five or six more times. It would be fine. Right?
“Ryan,” another voice said, this one much closer. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” he thought, and his words became sound in his mindscape.
“You need to listen to me.”
“Okay.” He groaned and felt both pain and numbness throughout his body.
“You are all she has. Do you understand me?”
“Who?”
“Our daughter, idiot, you’re all she has. You have to get up. You have to get up and take care of yourself. If you die, she won’t make it.”
“Oh, Emily. She’s fine. She’s right next to me—last I saw.”
“But you’re not fine. You’ve been giving her all the attention, and I’m proud of you for that. But you need more right now. You need to move right this minute or you won’t make it. You’re on the edge of oblivion.”
“But the dogs, they’ll get her. That one almost got her, and there are more, many, many more. The interstate bridge was safe enough, but not here.”
“You’ll find a way. You were always good at finding a way.” The voice receded and light began to filter in through the growing gateway of reality.
“Dada!” Emily’s distressed expression was right in front of him, her hands on his shoulder, shaking.
“Emme?” He put his arms around her and squeezed, her fearful sweat-slick hair filling his nose. “My sweet Emme. We have to go.”
“Go?”
“Yeah. Now.”
“Go now.”
He tried to stand but fell to the floor immediately. The world had become a listless, oily liquid, every particle of matter twice as dense and four and one half times as volatile. His right leg felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, and his ankle, wrapped in spectral razor wire, bit and cut at his prickling skin and warm muscle. Despite the silky texture of the sleeping bag it felt as if an iron was against his skin.
He sat up on the floor, and the room swayed like a ship on stormy waters, the face of a framed feminine profile in pen and ink drifting from left to right and back. He saw the dark streaks of the ceiling fan, the blurred outline of the closet door, and finally, the hat-covered coat rack in the corner. The nerves in his leg tingled and burned, new flames carried up into his arms by molten blood. He pushed himself to his feet like a newborn giraffe, and the room rocked, the stormy seas of this oily existence growing more violent with each breath.
Emily screamed, reaching for him to hold her. His ankle buckled. She tugged on his pants and his leg spasmed agonizingly. Nausea trickled into his stomach, its sine waves of intensity shifting and matching with the sharp saw shape of the storm. He took in a breath and could only smell the desperate tang of stale sweat choking the air. He licked his lips and blinked twice.
“God, we have to go,” he told Emily, trying to form a plan of action but finding his thoughts as difficult to collect as grains of rice tossed onto a beach of white sand. He stumbled to the dresser and recovered his pistol with a shaky hand. Two bullets left. “Not enough.” The gun was tucked into his waist belt, safety on. He lost his balance for a moment, Emily crowding his knees, and grabbed for the dresser out of reflex. He threw back his good foot, caught part of his weight with it, and nearly tipped the dresser over on both of them. The bottom drawer slid out and crunched into the knee of his bad leg.
“Fuck,” he yelped. He hadn’t even made it out of the room and was almost dying. He knew he had to get to the nearest drug store, but it was at least a mile away straight west through The Loop. If he couldn’t even make it out of this room without falling apart, how in the hell would he manage a feat like that? This wasn’t his only concern. He had too many to voice now.
“I no want, water,” Emily said as he filled her sippy cup.
“It’s all we have and I’m packing it.”
“No want.”
He shoved a few provisions into a small day pack: three bottles of water, several unopened cans of Spam, two diapers and wipes, a pair of sippy cups. He glanced around the kitchen and found two prescription bottles by the sink. He popped them open in turn, taking a pill from each and swallowing them without any water, then took a couple Anacin on top of these to try and combat the fever. That had to be what was happening. He was shivering with cold.
“What comes next?” he asked and stared down at Emily. She was fervently trying to get him out the back door to go play like they had at Karen’s. He told her no and went for her backpack harness. She struggled against him as he forced her to put it on, arms not bending the directions he needed to make this easy.
“No! I no want!”
“I don’t care what you want right now,” he growled. “You’re wearing this and that’s final. I’m your dad, listen to me.”
After the pack was on she took off running. He tested the tether, holding it close. When she reached its limit the line went taut and she plopped onto her butt.
You okay?” he asked, limping over to see if she was hurt. She got up without saying a word, murderous eyes fixed on her Dada. He shook the cobwebs from his head.
One more time he went through the backpack to be sure they had what they needed for this trip; a pack of stale crackers, roll of paper towels and a newspaper. He cocked his head and went back to the kitchen.
“Wait. What?”
Had he picked up another backpack left on the floor by accident? He sneezed, thick green mucus sticking to his hand, and felt the impact all the way to his throbbing ankle.
A thought occurred to him and he took off across the room—he’d forgotten something. Halfway to the couch he pulled up his loose pants and the gun went skittering across the floor to Emily’s feet. She reached down and picked it up, eyes wide and excited.
“No No Toy,” she said, holding it by the handle. Her tiny finger was coming close to wrapping around the trigger. “See, Dada?” She spun to face him, barrel pointed at his stomach. For a tense moment he wondered if he’d set the safety, or left it off as he had been doing at night. He stepped to the side, getting out of the gun barrels’ path, and she tracked him with the weapon.
“Put it down, Emme. Let Daddy have it.”
“It’s mine.” She stomped her right foot as she hissed.
He tried to play it calm, but his hands were shaking, his forehead slick with sweat. “When we get to the drug store I’ll get you one just like it. But that one, is Daddy’s. Okay? It’s very dangerous.”
She flipped the gun over, putting the tip of the barrel to her temple, finger resting on the trigger. She drew back with an effort. Ryan shot forward, fell to his knees and wrenched the gun away. He rolled on his side and let out a breath.
“It’s mine.” She bat at him with her open palms in an effort to recover the weapon.
“No it isn’t. You want to end up like one of the skeletons outside? Because that’s how you end up like one.”
“No.” She sniffed and took a step back.
He checked to be sure the safety was indeed on. It wasn’t. He clicked it in place and tucked it in his belt. Another reason he didn’t like the idea of keeping this demon around.
The perceptions turned dark, the house difficult to navigate.
Back in the kitchen, he emptied the contents of his incorrectly filled backpack and tried again; two diapers and wipes, a pair of empty sippy cups, a can of baked beans and a box of cold medicine. It was just what he’d packed moments before. He remembered he had forgotten to take the pills beside the sink as well. A dose of Percocet pain medicine and corticosteroids for swelling would go a long way to help him. He swallowed them down with a shot of scotch.
“Okay,” he said, and stared at the front door. Only thirty feet away and even that seemed like miles. “What do I do about the dogs?” His heart thumped with the fear of being forced to watch Emily be bitten all over again, a wild dog’s teeth tearing into her tender flesh. “I don’t know if I can do this.” His lip quivered. “I—”
“Ryan, you k
now what to do about them, but you might have to be cruel,” the voice whispered in the back of his skull. Emily held tight to Bullwhip Barbie by his leg.
He let out a long breath. “All right, just need to make sure we have what we need before we go.” He felt a headache creeping up on him as he went through his backpack for the last time. He had a bag of sugar, a squashed candy bar, a dish towel and three loose M&Ms. Ryan frowned. He removed these items, took a look at the random assortment of junk that lined the marble in the kitchen, and carefully chose the right ones.
“What’s so hard with packing a backpack? Keep it together, Ryan. Keep it together.”
After he was done he led them to the front door and checked his pack again. Only one odd item had made its way into it, and this time he was glad for it. A cigarette lighter, just what he needed. He slipped into a light hoodie and closed the front door, Emily standing by his feet.
“How do I deal with the dogs?” he asked the voice.
“Don’t be coy, Ryan. You know just what to do.”
He lowered his head in resignation. “Yeah. I do.” He popped open the pill bottle and took both of the remaining Percocet. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to dose himself before the walk. He tossed the bottles into the front yard, asking himself why they were now empty. He swore he’d have at least another day before he was out. There were what, three doses?
He rested the Cardinals bat on his shoulder and took a wobbling step. Emily trailed behind him on her backpack tether.
The sky was turning, its high cloud ceiling moving with the deft speed of oncoming rain. Twittering birds were everywhere, seeking shelter in the limbs of swaying branches and underneath the clogged eaves of vacant homes. The dogs were out there in the winds, Ryan knew for sure, but he couldn’t see them now.
He had one quick stop to make first. This would be one of three options he’d worked out with Lillian to deal with the dogs. The first was the most violent. The gun. He didn’t have enough bullets for every one of them. The second was the cruelest, and he knew its day would come. But not this day. However, there was a third, and it was merciful. He would try the third first.
The Two That Remained Page 13