by RB Schalin
Chapter 9
Becky Kerry is standing by the window in the living room looking out into the darkness. She has just come down after putting little Danny to bed. Before she turned off the light in his bedroom he had asked her where his father was.
"You know that your father loves you a lot, it’s just that sometimes he needs to be alone, that’s all, now go to sleep."
"Mom, but he promised he would help me."
"I know, maybe tomorrow. You still have a couple of days before you have to turn in the project, right?"
"Yeah, OK. Good night.
"Night baby."
Becky nibbles on her fingernails as she continues to stare out into the darkness. Things have changed, it wasn’t always like this. When she met John he was an overweight goof ball, a happy man, who loved to make people laugh. They had met at a party and it had been love at first sight, at least for her. They were in their late twenties, and he was working at the University. She was getting her second MBA at a different one. He loved his work, and often brought it home, and she liked to sit with him at the dinner table and help him in his research. He was on his way to get a PhD in Pre-Colombian tribes of the Amazons; her Masters were much more boring.
He dreamt of going down there to the Amazon and find a hidden tribe, to be the first to approach them, live with them and learn from them.
A pair of headlights turns up on the driveway and she sighs, he is home, thank god.
"Hi honey, sorry for being late, I had a flat tire."
"It’s OK, Danny missed you."
John takes off his jacket and hangs it on the usual peg by the door, and then walks to the living room, making a detour to the kitchen for a cold beer.
"How’s the cabin?"
"Great, your garden is taking off you know. You need to get up there and work on it, " he says.
She loves going up there, but with the work she has, there in never time.
"When are you going to clean the trail so we can drive all the way to the cabin?" he asks.
He looks up at her taking the beer from his mouth and says, "never, you know what that could mean, vandalism, and squatters."
"Surely we can put in some kind of alarm, and strengthen the windows and door, " she says, sitting down next to him.
"No, I don’t want to risk it."
She gives up and leans her head against his shoulder and they watch TV for a while before going to bed.
She watches as he undresses and when he turns his back to her, she shivers, she always does when she sees the tattoos. Like stitches they run from the nape of his neck down to his butt. The same lines encircle his wrists and ankles.
When he slips under the sheets she curls up with him, he is so warm, and she feels safe next to him.
John closes his eyes, getting mentally ready for the dreams that he has every night. He fears them and welcomes them at the same time.
He is wet and scared, and around him are the sounds of thousands of night insects. The jungle is so dense he can hardly see a yard ahead of him. He is sitting under a big leaf from some kind of bush, and he is shivering. He can’t hear them, but he knows they are out there, looking for him. He feels something on his naked shoulder, he looks down and a huge spider is crawling down towards his chest. It’s as wide as his hand and he doesn’t dare to move. It might be poisonous, he sits still and after a while the spider crawls down to his hip and from there on to a leaf and away.
Becky wakes up from John’s stirring, he is talking in his sleep again, not talking just mumbling incoherently, and sometimes he shakes, and then relaxes. She caresses his cheek and he calms down again, breathing normally.
She has begged him to seek help, but he refuses, says he doesn’t want to talk about it. Yet again, he wrote a book about his experience, and it became a best-seller. He doesn’t have to work any longer, just collect royalties. She is sure there are several chapters missing in the book, there has to be, these nightmares come from somewhere, and not the funny experience he wrote about.
She leans back into her soft pillow and closes her eyes. Maybe someday he will tell her what happened down there in the Amazon. After all, he was missing for three years.