sleep now.” It was Frances. He recognized her light, dry voice in the darkness. Before last night Napoleon would have said that he and Frances had similar personalities, in that they shared a certain base level of optimism, but not now. Now all his hope had drained away, it had seeped out of him and evaporated like sweat, leaving him empty and spent.
“I’m not tired,” said Lars. Or maybe Ben.
“This is fucked.” That was Ben. Or maybe Lars.
“I think Masha is about to do something,” said Jessica, he was pretty sure. She sounded more intelligent when you couldn’t see her face.
There was a moment of silence. Napoleon kept waiting for his eyes to adjust but they didn’t. No figures emerged. The dark seemed to get darker.
“It’s a bit creepy,” said Zoe, with a tremor in her voice, and Napoleon and Heather both moved reflexively, as if they could make their way through the darkness to get to her.
“It’s just dark. We’re all here. You’re safe.” That was definitely Smiley Hogburn, comforting Zoe.
Napoleon wished he could tell someone that he’d kind of played football with Smiley Hogburn. He realized the person he wished he could tell was himself, the self who no longer existed.
The darkness settled.
It was creepy.
“Maybe Lars should sing,” said Frances.
“At last, some appreciation for my talent,” said Lars.
“We should all sing,” said Carmel.
“No thanks,” said Jessica.
“You and me, Carmel,” said Lars.
He began to sing “I Can See Clearly Now” and Carmel joined in. She could sing beautifully. What a surprise to hear her voice rise in the darkness like that, holding the melody with such grace. How people could surprise you.
Napoleon had thought when he woke this morning that the feeling that permeated his body must be anger, because he had the right to be incandescent with anger at his wife for what she had concealed from him, and what she had chosen to finally reveal in the most nightmarish of settings, as his mind had struggled to separate ghastly fiction from reality—although now he thought he was free of the drugs, he did not have any doubt about what had and hadn’t really happened. He’d dreamed of Zach, but he hadn’t dreamed Heather’s revelation.
He didn’t remember asking her about the side effects of the asthma medication and yet he could imagine exactly how she would have replied: with unconcealed impatience, because she was the one in their family in charge of all decisions relating to health. Heather had the medical training, he was the teacher. He was in charge of homework. She was in charge of medication. She took pride in not questioning his decisions about education, although he would happily have been questioned by her, he was always eager for a debate, but she just wanted to get things ticked off the list. She liked to think of herself as the efficient, no-nonsense one in their relationship. The one who got things done.
Well, look what you got done, Heather.
She was right when she said that, given the opportunity, he would have read the leaflet that came with the medication, and yes, Napoleon would have monitored Zach, and he would have told him. He would have said, “This might affect your mood, Zach. You need to watch out for it and let me know,” and Zach would have rolled his eyes and said, “I never get any of those side effects, Dad.”
He could have, he would have, he should have, he might have saved him.
Every day for three years Napoleon had woken up each morning and thought, Why? And Heather knew why, or could take an educated guess at one possibility of why, and she had deliberately denied him the comfort of her knowledge, because of her guilt. Did she not trust his love? Did she think he would have blamed her, left her?
Not only that, they had an obligation to make this known, to let the authorities know that this had happened. My God, there could be other children dying. They needed to make the community aware that those side effects should be taken seriously. It was incredibly selfish of Heather to have kept this to herself, to have protected herself at the risk of others. He would call Dr. Chang as soon as he got out of here.
And Zoe. His darling girl. The only one to see that something wasn’t right because she knew Zach best. All she’d needed to say was: “Dad, something is wrong with Zach,” and Napoleon would have acted because he