Alex's death. If it was temporary, it would go away. Right? So he could just get through it. If it was permanent...
That was bad. That was the worst possibility. He set it aside.
The other possibility was that he was actually seeing a ghost. He was a grown man, and he didn't believe in ghosts, but there was no way he could pretend this wasn't a possibility. If Alex were haunting him, then there could be one of two reasons: either he was trying to make Ian miserable for letting him be killed -
He choked. He knew that was it.
Derek had thought otherwise, and at the time his argument had been persuasive, but Ian was no longer sure he agreed. An angry spirit wouldn't have the compunctions his son had had.
Would I be the same person, if I were abandoned by my family, raped, and killed?
So Alex was appearing to remind Ian what he had lost and how he had failed. Of the promises he'd broken.
Pills wouldn't help with that. So, what then? Again, his mind grasped at movies, because it was all he knew. A psychic? An exorcist? A... séance, or something?
The whole idea was so ridiculous, he laughed. In the dark, alone in his room. The noise echoed off his bare walls like the cry of a loon.
41
Alex had been a talkative boy. Ian used to joke that they spent the first two years of his life teaching him how to talk, and the next three teaching him to shut up.
"Good morning, Daddy! I peed already," he announced, standing in the hallway the next morning. He was in his pajamas. Ian went past him and into the bathroom. As he relieved himself and brushed his teeth Alex kept up a constant barrage from the other side of the bathroom door.
"Daddy, can I have Pop Tarts today?"
"Daddy when I was sleeping I had a good dream about elephants. But only not about zebras too. The zebras are just sleeping."
"Daddy I know what's two plus two. It's four! Did you see the picture I made? I think you should bring it to work and hang it up."
Ian ignored him. This was his resolution upon waking: ignore it, and see if it would go away. If Alex had truly come back to torment him, perhaps Ian could make him tire of it. If Alex wasn't real, ignoring him was the smartest option anyway.
"Daddy I need to brush my teeth! Don't forget! Or I will get the cavities!"
"Where is Donnie? Donnie! "
"BAAAA-OOOO! BAAAA-OOOO! BAAAA-OOOO!"
" Okay! " Ian snapped. He tore the bathroom door open. Alex was balanced on one of the dining room chairs, holding his hands above his head and spinning as he yelled. "Alex! Get down! You're gonna -"
He slapped his mouth shut. He wouldn't finish that sentence. His thoughts did it for him.
- hurt yourself.
"Sorry, Dod!" Alex was always quick to apologize. "I will never ever do it again."
Sure you won't. But he didn't say it. He fixed his eyes on the kitchen, skirted past the dining room table, and resolutely ignored his son.
"Daddy are you making Pop Tarts?"
"Daddy can I have Pop Tarts today?"
"Daddy are you making Pop Tarts?"
They'd been teaching him how to wait for other people to acknowledge him before speaking, how to only make requests once. The urge to correct him, to say, Alex, stop and wait until I answer. Be quiet now, resurged in his chest as though it had never left.
He refused it.
"Daddy? Can I have Pop Tarts today?"
Ian went back to the bedroom, hunted for clean clothes while his coffee brewed.
"Daddy why can't I have Pop Tarts?"
Because you aren't really there.
"Daddy? Daddy, why? "
No.
"Daddy, please? Daddy please! "
No!
Alex heaved an exaggerated sigh and hurled himself to the hallway floor.
Go stand in the corner if you're going to act like that.
"No!"
Right now, Alex. Right -
Ian clenched his eyes closed, ground his teeth. This wasn't easy.
"I won't!"
Six months ago Ian would've
That was bad. That was the worst possibility. He set it aside.
The other possibility was that he was actually seeing a ghost. He was a grown man, and he didn't believe in ghosts, but there was no way he could pretend this wasn't a possibility. If Alex were haunting him, then there could be one of two reasons: either he was trying to make Ian miserable for letting him be killed -
He choked. He knew that was it.
Derek had thought otherwise, and at the time his argument had been persuasive, but Ian was no longer sure he agreed. An angry spirit wouldn't have the compunctions his son had had.
Would I be the same person, if I were abandoned by my family, raped, and killed?
So Alex was appearing to remind Ian what he had lost and how he had failed. Of the promises he'd broken.
Pills wouldn't help with that. So, what then? Again, his mind grasped at movies, because it was all he knew. A psychic? An exorcist? A... séance, or something?
The whole idea was so ridiculous, he laughed. In the dark, alone in his room. The noise echoed off his bare walls like the cry of a loon.
41
Alex had been a talkative boy. Ian used to joke that they spent the first two years of his life teaching him how to talk, and the next three teaching him to shut up.
"Good morning, Daddy! I peed already," he announced, standing in the hallway the next morning. He was in his pajamas. Ian went past him and into the bathroom. As he relieved himself and brushed his teeth Alex kept up a constant barrage from the other side of the bathroom door.
"Daddy, can I have Pop Tarts today?"
"Daddy when I was sleeping I had a good dream about elephants. But only not about zebras too. The zebras are just sleeping."
"Daddy I know what's two plus two. It's four! Did you see the picture I made? I think you should bring it to work and hang it up."
Ian ignored him. This was his resolution upon waking: ignore it, and see if it would go away. If Alex had truly come back to torment him, perhaps Ian could make him tire of it. If Alex wasn't real, ignoring him was the smartest option anyway.
"Daddy I need to brush my teeth! Don't forget! Or I will get the cavities!"
"Where is Donnie? Donnie! "
"BAAAA-OOOO! BAAAA-OOOO! BAAAA-OOOO!"
" Okay! " Ian snapped. He tore the bathroom door open. Alex was balanced on one of the dining room chairs, holding his hands above his head and spinning as he yelled. "Alex! Get down! You're gonna -"
He slapped his mouth shut. He wouldn't finish that sentence. His thoughts did it for him.
- hurt yourself.
"Sorry, Dod!" Alex was always quick to apologize. "I will never ever do it again."
Sure you won't. But he didn't say it. He fixed his eyes on the kitchen, skirted past the dining room table, and resolutely ignored his son.
"Daddy are you making Pop Tarts?"
"Daddy can I have Pop Tarts today?"
"Daddy are you making Pop Tarts?"
They'd been teaching him how to wait for other people to acknowledge him before speaking, how to only make requests once. The urge to correct him, to say, Alex, stop and wait until I answer. Be quiet now, resurged in his chest as though it had never left.
He refused it.
"Daddy? Can I have Pop Tarts today?"
Ian went back to the bedroom, hunted for clean clothes while his coffee brewed.
"Daddy why can't I have Pop Tarts?"
Because you aren't really there.
"Daddy? Daddy, why? "
No.
"Daddy, please? Daddy please! "
No!
Alex heaved an exaggerated sigh and hurled himself to the hallway floor.
Go stand in the corner if you're going to act like that.
"No!"
Right now, Alex. Right -
Ian clenched his eyes closed, ground his teeth. This wasn't easy.
"I won't!"
Six months ago Ian would've
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