“God, I haven’t thought about that in years.” I ran my hand through my hair. How had I forgotten about it? “Yeah, I did have an imaginary friend. When I was younger, I used to tell my mother that someone came into my room at night and hugged me. Mister Night. That’s what I called him.”
“Yeah … that’s pretty creepy. But then, kids say scary stuff all the time. There are whole websites devoted to it. You should write that down and submit it.”
“Maybe I will.” But it reminded me of something else. “Jake’s been saying other weird things recently. If you leave a door half open, soon you’ll hear the whispers spoken. Have you ever heard that?”
“Hmmm.” Karen thought about it. “It does ring a bell; I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before. It’s one of those rhymes kids say in the playground, I think.”
“Right. Maybe that’s where he heard it, then.”
Except not in this playground, of course, because Jake had said it the night before his first day. Maybe it was some common kid thing that I didn’t know about—something from one of those television shows I put on for him and then zoned out without paying attention to.
I sighed.
“I just hope he has a better day. I worry about him.”
“That’s natural. What does your wife say?”
“She died last year,” I said. “I’m not sure how well he’s coping with that. Understandably, I suppose.”
Karen was silent for a moment.
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure how well I’m coping either, to be honest. I’m never sure whether I’m being a good father or not. Whether I’m doing the best I can for him.”
“That’s also natural. I’m sure you are.”
“Maybe it’s whether my best is good enough that’s the real question.”
“And again, I’m sure it is.”
She stopped and put her hands in her pockets. We’d come to a junction, and it was obvious from our mutual body language that she was heading on straight here while I was turning right.
“But whatever,” she said, “it sounds like both of you have had a rough time of it. So I think—not that you asked for my opinion, I realize, but fuck it—that maybe you should stop being so hard on yourself?”
“Maybe.”
“Just a little, at least?”
“Maybe.”
“Easier said than done, I know.” She gathered herself together, her whole body suddenly like a sigh. “Anyway. Catch you later on. Have a good one.”
“You too.”
I thought about that the rest of the way home. Maybe you should stop being so hard on yourself. There was probably some truth in that, because, after all, I was just fumbling through life the same as everyone else, wasn’t I? Trying to do my best. But back home, I still paced around the downstairs of the house, unsure what to do with myself. Earlier on, I’d been thinking it would be good to have some time without Jake. Now, with the house empty and silent around me, I felt an urge to have him as close as possible.
Because I needed to keep him safe.
And I hadn’t imagined what had happened last night.
That brought on a flash of panic. If the police weren’t going to help us, that meant that I had to. Walking through the empty rooms, I felt a sense of desperation—an urgent need to do something, even though I had no idea what. I ended up in my office. The laptop had been left on standby overnight. I nudged the trackpad and the screen came to life, revealing the words there.
Rebecca …
She would know what to do right now; she always had. I pictured her sitting cross-legged on the floor with Jake, playing enthusiastically with whatever toys were between them. And curled up on our old couch, reading to him, his head underneath her chin and their two bodies so close that they looked like a single person. Whenever he’d called out in the night, Rebecca would have already been padding through to him as I was still waking up. And it had always been her he called for.
I deleted the words I’d written yesterday and then typed three new sentences.
I miss you. I feel like I’m failing our son and I don’t know what to do.
I’m sorry.
I stared at the screen for a moment.
Enough.
Enough wallowing. As difficult as everything might be, it was my job to look after my son, and if my best wasn’t sufficient, then I’d have to get better.