eyes. Jeopardizing their relationship is a risk he cannot take. He is having a tough enough time trying to hold his little family together. They are strung too tight to add any other stresses to the cord that binds them. Besides, he couldn’t stand it if his mother thought badly about Alison even for one second.
“Mom, look, I know you don’t understand what’s been going on. But Alison is my wife and I can’t tell you some things. It would probably be best if you just let it be.”
“Let it be?”
“If you can’t do that, then Jimmy and I can go to a hotel…”
“Now, stop that. You can stay here as long as you like. You know that.”
“Then, no questions.”
“For a time.”
“For a time,” he agrees.
“And you understand that boy is distraught.”
“Oh, I understand, believe me. I’m thinking of only him. You have to trust that.” He looks into the face of his mother and wishes he could explain everything to her. He would love to sit down and tell her about the hallucinations, the paranoia, the craziness, and the weapons. If he does, his mom will throw her arms around him and he will enjoy the solace of a connection that he craves right now. He genuinely needs someone to say they understand, to confirm he’s done the right thing. But he can’t. He knows he cannot. This is a burden he must carry in silence, or risk being the source of more destruction. He must protect Alison and so he cannot tell his mother any of it.
Carolyn asks, “Then just tell me - is she all right?”
“If she were all right I wouldn’t be here.”
Carolyn nods. She walks over to the sink, turns on the faucet, reaches for her little copper teakettle and fills it. She puts the kettle on the stove. These rote gestures give her a moment to consider. This is not an easy position he has put her in. She is frantic inside to hear what’s going on. She turns the gas on under the kettle as she reviews what she should say. Her son loves his family. He is asking her to trust him, to trust his judgment. She turns back to face him.
“Then, I’ll get dinner going.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
Several hours later, Alison sits with her forehead planted on the kitchen table. An untouched cup of chamomile tea beside her went cold hours ago. She lifts her head three inches from the table and then just lets it flop back down with a thud. She can’t do this any longer. She knows Hank as well as she knows herself. The only reason Hank would have left her side is if she really were crazy. I have to face it. I’ve cracked. I mean, maybe, maybe I’ve cracked. I see things. I hear things. Oh god, how do I end this when it all feels real? Is this what all crazy people say? My husband has left me. My husband who I know loves me has left. What does that tell me? She picks her forehead up again and lets it drop into her hands. I have no one. No one understands. Everyone around here has already decided about me. I have no one. She picks up her phone and dials 411.
The operator asks, “City and State, please?”
In Hobbs’ cabin, Curtis reaches for the ringing phone. “Sport Fishing.”
“You really did get a regular landline up there.” She tries to make her voice sound normal.
“Alison?”
“Not indoor plumbing too I hope.”
“And ruin the ambiance? No way. Evidently, you city folk like a good crap in the woods. How’s civilization?”
Her voice cracks, “A lot harder than I remember.”
“True that. Reality sucks. People are animals.”
“Yes. That’s been a hard lesson.”
“But useful.”
“Maybe. Maybe we’re better off not knowing that. Maybe we’re better off living in a dream world.”
“We’re surely better off that way,” he says almost wistfully, “but once you wake up…well, you’re up, ya know?”
“Yes.” She sighs.
“Why don’t you come for a visit? Be my guest.”
“Not a chance.”
“This time you could really go fishing.”
“I hyperventilate when I see fish sticks.”
There is an unnatural pause. Curtis waits for her to continue. He knows she called for a reason.
She says, “So he’s dead, you know, the last one.”
“Yeah, I saw that on the AP. You must be relieved.”
“Uh…not actually.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t shake him.”
“Oh.”
“It’s like he put some kind of invisible cage around me. Or more like he’s actually inside in my brain. Sitting there pulling strings.”
“That doesn’t sound too healthy.”
“Actually I may