Alex (7 page)
The smile faltered; the boy's brilliant eyes started to wander.
Look at me.
It's what he would have said if Alex had been alive.
Alex looked at him.
"You have to tell me why you're here."
His son fidgeted.
"But, I just want to play hide and seek."
"Alex..."
He felt a whisper of anger in his gut.
"There's no more time for playing.
Okay?
God, I wish there were."
How many times had Alex asked Ian to play with him, and Ian hadn't had time?
It was a stupid, pointless recrimination.
He couldn't take back his refusals now.
And they had been
valid
:
he couldn't play with his son every moment of every day.
They played sometimes, and other times Alex had to play by himself.
He had to learn how to do that.
And Ian needed time for himself, sometimes, just to think - and time with Alina, even just a few minutes to talk, and touch...
Alex's eyes were heavy with rejection.
"Do I have to do
jobs
?" he asked.
In the boy's mind there had only been two types of activity: playing, and jobs.
Ian made a hoarse sound, something between a chuckle and a sob.
He reached for his son's hands, and became alone.
Somehow he made it to work on time the next morning.
He spent the time between calls Googling the Family Medical Leave Act.
At lunch he tried to call Alina, but hung up when he got voicemail.
On the way home he indulged in another Friday Best Buy stop.
He flipped through the video games, then the movies, then the computer games.
He looked at the cell phones and the digital cameras, fended off at least half a dozen attempts to
help him out today.
After dinner, Alex was on the couch again.
"Daddy, can we play hide and seek?"
Ian looked at his son's brilliant azure eyes and broke.
"Sure, pal."
Alex's face lit up; he leapt from the couch like he had weasels in his pants.
"Me first, me first!" he shouted.
"All right," Ian conceded.
He didn't want to smile, but he couldn't stop himself.
"I'll count to twenty."
"And close your eyes," Alex urged.
"And close my eyes."
Ian obeyed the rule.
As he counted he heard Alex tearing off, a herd of elephants condensed into two tiny feet.
The boy was always loud when he set out, which gave Ian a good idea of which direction he went, but he was surprisingly good at hiding once he found his spot.
"...eighteen, nineteen, twenty.
Ready or not, here I come!"
Now Ian would look at Alina, and they'd share a secret smile.
She would creep toward the bedrooms while he went into the dining room and then the kitchen, checking to make sure the basement door was still closed.
Alex wasn't allowed down there alone.
Except when he opened his eyes, the living room was empty.
He's gone.
Just like in the mornings, when Ian would look in his room after hearing him play.
Ian's unfounded anticipation shattered.
His guts were twisting.
I can't do this.
I can't keep doing this.
Alex, why are you doing this to me?
From the kitchen, he heard the distinct creak of the basement door.
That simple sound froze everything, made his ears prick like a cat's and his arms turn cold with sweat.
He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that he was imagining it or the house was just settling.
It couldn't have been Alex.
He'd never changed or moved anything.
He appeared, spoke, and disappeared.
He couldn't actually affect -
Yes, he can.
The curtains, the other morning, when he looked out after you.
Ian drew a deep breath and sneaked into the kitchen.
The basement door was ajar.
The lights in the stairwell were still off.
You're not supposed to go downstairs, Alex!
You know that!
He padded to the door and eased it the rest of the way open, fumbled for the light switch like a man slapping at ants, and saw his little work table and computer waiting in the sterile light at the bottom of the stairs.
The threadbare carpet, the fading white walls, regarded him as silently as a painting.
"Alex?" he called, but there was no response.
He's gone.
Close the door and go back.
But instead he crept down the stairs, each wooden step like ice beneath his bare feet as his brain whispered warnings.
The door to the utility room, that secret lair where the furnace and the water heater labored on black, naked concrete, hung open.
The space beyond gaped with darkness and must.
"Alex?" Ian said again.
His legs carried him to the door, and he waved blindly for the pull chain.
Alina always made him turn this light on for her.
She was scared of bugs.
Click
.
The room was like a cave, walls bulging with the weight of the house's foundation, stained with moisture and neglect.
At its far end was a rickety wooden door to an old cellar pantry he and Alina had never touched.
It was open a crack.
Okay.
Enough.
Go upstairs.
This isn't even real.
You're probably imagining it.
But he had told Alex to
call for me.
He had told Alex they'd play hide and seek.
So he pulled the door open.
Alex was naked, his arms splayed out, bruised at the elbows.
He lay spread-eagled on a bare, dingy mattress, and something Ian couldn't see was on top of him,
thrusting
-
Ian fumbled for a scream, but his voice was gone.
His son's eyes were clenched shut, his face streaked with tears, his lips murmuring pleas.
Ian crawled forward, choking on horror, and grabbed his hand.
When the boy disappeared, Ian vomited until he had nothing left.
"Derek?"
"Who is this?"
"Derek, do you mind if I come over there tonight?"
"
Ian?
"
"Yeah, please.
You still have that guest bed, right?
Or the couch?"
"What?
Yeah.
Yeah, of course.
What's going on?
Are you okay?"
"I just can't stay here tonight.
I can't... I can't fucking be in this house.
I can't..."
He swallowed a gag.
He would scrub out his eyes if it would make him stop seeing -
"Of course, sure.
Yeah.
Do you need me to pick you up?"
"No."
He fought for control of his voice, of his thoughts.
"I'm already on my way."
"Ian.
Jeez, you look terrible.
Are you sick?"
He ushered him in, closed the door.
A swirl of cold air ruffled the papers on the nearby kitchen table.
"No.
I mean... No.
I don't think so."
"Sit down, okay?
You don't look good."
Derek took his coat, and Ian sat down in the living room, the images from the basement lashing him like whips.
Had that happened to Alex?
Is that how he had spent the last days of his life: getting raped by Leroy Eston?
Where the fuck were you, Ian?
Where the fuck
were
you
?
He shuddered, felt his stomach quake again.
He glanced around as if suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings.
He was alone.
Alex would come if he stayed alone.
"Derek?"
Ian took to his feet.
"Where are you?"
"Kitchen," Derek called.
"Getting you a beer, you fucking need one."
Ian got up and went to the kitchen.
Derek was closing the fridge door.
"Ian, god, would you sit down?
Seriously.
You're freaking me out here."
I don't want to be alone
, Ian almost said.
When I'm alone I see things.
"Okay.
Sorry."
Derek gave him a Coors Light as they sat down.
Ian turned it in his hands, feeling the cold aluminum, staring at it like he'd unearthed an alien artifact.
"Light?" he finally observed.
"You must not be
too
worried about me."
Derek let out a relieved sigh, like his friend had been in a trance and he had just been starting to wonder if he needed to call 911.
"Yeah.
Well.
Jake doesn't like the hard stuff."
"Things going well with him?" Ian asked, not because it had been on his mind, but because he needed time.
"Yeah, I think so.
He doesn't love the raiding schedule.
You know how that goes.
But he's smart and funny and has a great ass."
Derek waggled his eyebrows.
Ian looked at his friend, but he wasn't really seeing him.
He was seeing the cellar pantry.
"That's good."
Derek's grin faded.
"Ian, come on.
Are you gonna tell me what's going on?
Did something happen with Alina?
Did she...?"
He stopped.
They both knew what he was going to ask.
"No.
No, we're still happily married."
Ian shook his head.
He was profoundly grateful to have company, but maybe it had been stupid to come over here.
He couldn't tell Derek what had happened.
He couldn't tell anyone, unless he wanted to end up getting committed.
"What then?"
"I just... I couldn't stay in that house tonight.
You know?
Not tonight."
Derek watched him.
"Getting pretty quiet over there, I bet."
Ian nodded at his beer.
"Well, you know you can come over anytime.
And you have a key, right?"
Ian had forgotten about that.
Derek had proudly shared keys with a few of his closest friends when he'd bought the house last year.
"I mean, you know.
Call first.
But yeah.
Whenever."
"Thanks."
They were quiet for awhile.
"Were you raiding tonight?" Ian asked.
"I was going to.
I cancelled when you called.
You freaked me out."
"Go ahead, if they still have your spot.
I'll watch."
"You sure?
Do you want to play?"
Ian shook his head.
"Not tonight."
He came awake suddenly, coughing back a snore, drool sticky on his cheek.
A scream of light was stabbing into his eyes.