single time he steps onto school property. Hank promised that he would always believe his own child, at the cost of being wrong, at the cost of alienating the teacher, at the cost of taking down the entire School Board, he would always side with his child, and he has always done so.
What he wanted back then: to kiss Heather, to punch out Mr. Caughey, to be believed, all contributed drops to the groundwater of his character. Tonight, reminded of his basic self, he feels stripped of the trivial desires that grew up untamed like ivy on the inside of him. What made him want so many things? Was it the television? His friends? Did it invade like a virus from the outside, or were all these wants something that grew naturally within. He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. The moon is bright and throws its pasty gaze in through the window. Lying here, he realizes how much he truly does not want and he lists them: he does not want a bigger house, or a new car, or a 55” flat screen TV. He wants his wife, his son, and everyone healthy. Everything else is profoundly inconsequential. Everything else is negotiable.
For five hours, Hank lies in bed and lets his mind wander like this. He tries to find relief in happy memories but nothing has been able to distract him. The discomfort in his mind has become physical. The mattress is lumpy, the sheets are scratchy, and the room feels excessively hot. The digital minute hand flips and the clock now reads 3:16 a.m. He turns over and looks at his son deep in sleep beside him. Do all parents think their children are beautiful, or is Jimmy really as beautiful as he seems? Hank feels envious of the peaceful sleep of children, the sleep that comes when nothing is your responsibility. He reviews the steps that led him back to his childhood home and he is suddenly certain that running out like that was wrong. It was just wrong. I know some of this is my inability to deal with the situation. She needs me. It’s Alison. It is my Allie. What if leaving sent her over the edge? What if she’s crying, or hysterical? What if she hurts herself? They have each been forever changed, and they need to adjust to this new world. He and Jimmy have been face-to-face with evil. It was an experience they shared on the floor that night, but it must have been easier to be together, to at least have had each other. Neither of them really knows what it was like to be Alison, to stand alone, to understand that it is kill or watch your family die, to stand in abject terror in the icy rain feeling the responsibility for all those lives, and to know you are their only hope of survival. How many other people would have been paralyzed? How many would have just hid behind a rock in the dark woods and wept? Is there some relief in being the helpless ones? What does it do to a peaceful spirit like hers to plunge a knife into the flesh and organs of another human being? Of course, she is stuck in that horror. How could she not be? He has not tried hard enough to save her. He has only wanted it all to go away, but there’s no blood on his hands. By her side is where he belongs. Those were the vows they took and she is his partner for life. No matter how hard. Bile in his stomach backs up and burns his throat as disgust overwhelms him, how could he have left her that way? Cautiously, he slips out of bed, careful not to wake Jimmy. He pulls on his worn jeans and Zeppelin sweatshirt. He grabs his socks and sneakers and silently leaves the room. He tiptoes across the hall to his mother’s room and enters.
“Mom?” He speaks in a loud whisper.
She rolls toward him, “Henry?”
“Jimmy’s asleep. I’m going home. I shouldn’t have left her.”
“Good. You two go work it out. I’ll take care of Jimmy.”
Hank sits down on the floor near the front door to put on his shoes and socks. His fatigue dissipates. Energy surges through him. He is certain where he needs to be. Jesus, I should not have left her. He pulls on his sneakers without untying them, grabs his car keys, and