taken the boy by the shoulders and steered him to the corner; carried him bodily if needed. Now he stalked to the stereo in the living room, flipped it to FM and turned it up. Dessa's voice blared from the speakers, observing that the years passed by now in twos and threes.
Beneath the music, Alex screamed.
42
At the first red light, Alex said, "Daddy, I don't like that black hat."
He was talking about Ian's ski mask, the one he took out when it was time to shovel the snow from the driveway. That's fine, Ian had told him. You're not the one who has to go shoveling.
"The eyes are scary on that black hat. Will you leave it inside, please?"
No, Alex. I need it for shoveling.
Alex fell silent. As the cross traffic slowed, Ian flipped the mirror down and saw the backseat was empty.
It's easier to answer him, he thought. He goes away if I play out the conversations. Maybe I should just do that.
And then, immediately: Just resign myself to him being there, just talk to him alone in my head like I used to talk to him out loud. Whenever he wants to, forever.
The light turned green, and Ian pushed on the gas, cursing.
43
He hadn't finished his résumé on Monday, so he worked doggedly on it between calls. Billi gave him some pointers.
At lunch he stayed in the cafeteria. He didn't want to see Alex in the car. He got back to his desk ten minutes before his break ended, and looked up bus schedules. He could get to work that way without being alone. If it took an extra hour each way, he didn't care. It wasn't like he had a family to get home to.
That afternoon he finished up the application and sent it in along with the makeshift résumé. Both of them were crap. But the deadline was tomorrow, and he didn't want to miss it.
Sheila flounced past him on the way back from one of her bathroom trips. He got chewed out every time he was as much as a minute late, but she could take fifteen trips to the bathroom over the course of a day. He alt-tabbed as she went by, but he wasn't quick enough. She took a step backward, peering over his shoulder.
"'Supernatural.com,'" she announced. "Go back to that, I want to see."
"Look it up yourself," he answered.
"I don't like to surf on company time," she said, without a hint of sarcasm.
"Then I guess you're screwed."
"God, what is wrong with you? Why are you such a prick? I just want to see." She leaned across him, reaching for his keyboard. He caught a heady whiff of perfume, got a close-up view of the tanned swell of her breasts inside a black bra, and felt an embarrassing stirring in his crotch.
She flipped the window back and stood up. "'Home Exorcisms.'" She clicked her tongue. "Sounds... dangerous. Colmes, you wild man."
"Jesus Christ," he answered as he closed the browser. "You are not in high school anymore, Sheila. Do you get that? Would you leave me the fuck alone?"
She made an affronted sound. "You talk about me being in high school? You're the guy who's 45 minutes late every morning."
"And you're on your fifteenth bathroom break of the day. You know, normally I don't bother the people I work with. I'm pretty 'live and let live.' You ought to try it. It's a great way to get along."
Jorge stood up, glaring over the cube wall. "I'm on a call, guys."
"Sorry," Ian answered, but Sheila just went back to her desk. He glanced back at her, fuming, and she gave him a smile that said, I win.
No. You know what? Fuck that. No. He tore his headset off and threw it on the desk.
"Going on a bathroom break?" she asked as he stalked past.
His hand twitched out. He nearly flipped her off. Instead he balled it into a fist and held it as his side.
You have no fucking idea what I'm going through. Do you? You just have to push and push and push. Do you know that I'm hallucinating, bitch? Do you?
Beneath the music, Alex screamed.
42
At the first red light, Alex said, "Daddy, I don't like that black hat."
He was talking about Ian's ski mask, the one he took out when it was time to shovel the snow from the driveway. That's fine, Ian had told him. You're not the one who has to go shoveling.
"The eyes are scary on that black hat. Will you leave it inside, please?"
No, Alex. I need it for shoveling.
Alex fell silent. As the cross traffic slowed, Ian flipped the mirror down and saw the backseat was empty.
It's easier to answer him, he thought. He goes away if I play out the conversations. Maybe I should just do that.
And then, immediately: Just resign myself to him being there, just talk to him alone in my head like I used to talk to him out loud. Whenever he wants to, forever.
The light turned green, and Ian pushed on the gas, cursing.
43
He hadn't finished his résumé on Monday, so he worked doggedly on it between calls. Billi gave him some pointers.
At lunch he stayed in the cafeteria. He didn't want to see Alex in the car. He got back to his desk ten minutes before his break ended, and looked up bus schedules. He could get to work that way without being alone. If it took an extra hour each way, he didn't care. It wasn't like he had a family to get home to.
That afternoon he finished up the application and sent it in along with the makeshift résumé. Both of them were crap. But the deadline was tomorrow, and he didn't want to miss it.
Sheila flounced past him on the way back from one of her bathroom trips. He got chewed out every time he was as much as a minute late, but she could take fifteen trips to the bathroom over the course of a day. He alt-tabbed as she went by, but he wasn't quick enough. She took a step backward, peering over his shoulder.
"'Supernatural.com,'" she announced. "Go back to that, I want to see."
"Look it up yourself," he answered.
"I don't like to surf on company time," she said, without a hint of sarcasm.
"Then I guess you're screwed."
"God, what is wrong with you? Why are you such a prick? I just want to see." She leaned across him, reaching for his keyboard. He caught a heady whiff of perfume, got a close-up view of the tanned swell of her breasts inside a black bra, and felt an embarrassing stirring in his crotch.
She flipped the window back and stood up. "'Home Exorcisms.'" She clicked her tongue. "Sounds... dangerous. Colmes, you wild man."
"Jesus Christ," he answered as he closed the browser. "You are not in high school anymore, Sheila. Do you get that? Would you leave me the fuck alone?"
She made an affronted sound. "You talk about me being in high school? You're the guy who's 45 minutes late every morning."
"And you're on your fifteenth bathroom break of the day. You know, normally I don't bother the people I work with. I'm pretty 'live and let live.' You ought to try it. It's a great way to get along."
Jorge stood up, glaring over the cube wall. "I'm on a call, guys."
"Sorry," Ian answered, but Sheila just went back to her desk. He glanced back at her, fuming, and she gave him a smile that said, I win.
No. You know what? Fuck that. No. He tore his headset off and threw it on the desk.
"Going on a bathroom break?" she asked as he stalked past.
His hand twitched out. He nearly flipped her off. Instead he balled it into a fist and held it as his side.
You have no fucking idea what I'm going through. Do you? You just have to push and push and push. Do you know that I'm hallucinating, bitch? Do you?
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