with her eyes open. She stares at the ceiling blinking.
The nurse turns to Rick. “Mr. Gleasen? Are you okay? Your face is extremely pale. Have you eaten today, sir?” She puts her arm around him and leads him over to the chair then gently pushes him down into it.
“You need to take a break, Mr. Gleason. You need to eat and get some sleep. I know you want to be near your wife, especially now that she is awake more often but you need to take care of yourself first. Where is your family? Can I call someone for you?” She searches his eyes.
“They’ll be here soon for visiting hour. I’ll get something to eat when they get here. I promise. Is Alison okay? Did I hurt her?”
“She’s fine. I’ll go ahead and check her vitals but I assure you, you didn’t change a thing.”
At three-thirty the sound of yelling and stomping feet seeps into Rick’s dream. He wakes to the sight of his two boys having a pushing match as they fight over who gets to enter the hospital room first.
“I got here first!”
“Shut up! This is a hospital. Have some manners!”
Rick’s spirit instantly lifts with the sight of his children. They make him feel alive and hopeful. His heart warms as he stands up and walks over to them. Grabbing them both, he squeezes them into a tight embrace. The boys fight the restraint but he squeezes harder.
“Dad. Dad! Come on, I can’t breathe hardly.”
“Oh, kids. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Rick, dear, you look so frail. Have you eaten? You’re ashen. Dear, you have got to let me take over for a while.” His mother tests his forehead with the back of her hand. “You feel warm, dear.”
“I’m fine, Mom. I just need a little food. Do you mind staying here with the boys and Alison while I grab a bite to eat from the cafeteria?’
“Of course not! Go. Go on now and eat.” She pushes him to the door. “Go.”
The walk to the cafeteria feels like a dream. The sickly figures walking the halls pass in a blur. His feet carry his spindly and wasted body on autopilot to the food that will nourish him and awake his senses. He longs for clarity. His mind aches with desire for understanding and calms only with the anticipation of calories.
Rick sits disheveled at an orange cafeteria table ravishing his food. The table isn’t balanced and teeters every time he leans his weight on it. He swallows a turkey sandwich in three large bites as bits of bun and turkey drip to his plate. Washing the food down with chocolate milk from a carton, he relaxes and allows his body to feel and appreciate the nourishment. Mouth agape and hair matted, he stares at a television with turkey grease glistening on his cheek and a chocolate mustache on his upper lip. A droplet of milk hangs from his chin.
Rick allows his eyes to roam the room then back up at the television. He feels confused. Rising from his table, he leaves his tray then walks purposefully down the hall. His heightened senses notice everything. As he strides toward the room, he feels the passersby staring at him. At first he turns away and avoids eye contact. But his anger takes over quickly and he stares back instead. He gives an exaggerated glare to the innocent child who gasps and clamps onto the hand of her mother. A grey haired lady breaks away from his stare and glances off into the distance as she passes him with caution.
What the hell do they know anyway? What the hell does anyone know?
As Rick nears the hospital room, he can hear the sound of Casey’s voice and sees a nurse leave the room with a large smile on her face but she doesn’t see him. Rick’s stomach catches and churns. Nothing good can come of Casey in the room. Stopping before the doorway, he considers turning back and heading toward the cafeteria then changes his mind and steps up to the doorway and listens instead.
Excitement fills the room. The boys stand with his mother at the head of the bed on one side while Casey and John stand at the head on the other. Rick can’t see Alison because she’s blocked by the bodies. He hears his youngest going on about what he has done over the last few weeks.
My God, she must be fully awake. When did that happen?
Alison’s dry voice breaks Eli off in mid-sentence. Rick can’t understand her words. Her muffled voice sounds raspy and angry. Rick feels bile creep up his throat. Everyone seems to squeeze in closer to Alison in response to her words. Everyone except Eli, who quietly steps away from the crowd and sits down at a chair at the foot of the bed. He seems upset by something his mother said. The place where he stood opens up a direct view of Alison.
Alison is awake and her trachea tube is gone. Her hair appears combed and she has color in her cheeks. Sitting upright in her bed, there is an empty plate on her bedside table. Her demeanor turns to frustration as she grabs hold of her head then drops it as if to think.
“What’s wrong, Alison? Are you okay, honey?” Casey tries to make eye contact with her and puts her hand on Alison’s leg.
“It’s just…I think I remember now. I remember the reservoir and I remember what happened.”
The color drains from Rick’s face and his legs begin to give out. He falls onto his knees no longer able to remain standing. When he hits the ground Eli notices him and jumps from the chair.
“Daddy?” He whispers. No one else seems to notice.
“Tell me Alison.” Casey’s voice gets higher with excitement.
Alison’s face twists as her eyes seem to fade back to a memory. She shakes her head in disbelief.
“What Alison? Talk to us, baby.” John sounds desperate. Rick’s mother turns away and sits down, unable to take the pressure.
“Daddy, are you okay? Where have you been? We’ve been waiting so long for you.”
“Wha?” Rick shakes his head. He strains to hear Alison’s voice.
“It was him.” Alison’s voice whispers faintly.
“What was that? Sweetie, we can’t hear you.” Casey rubs Alison’s leg hard as if to rub the words out of her.
Alison’s face turns red and she shakes her head hard. “Argh!” She slaps her hands to her face and begins to claw at her forehead. Red lines appear where her nails have dug deep into her flesh.
“Alison?”
“It was him!” Alison’s voice is like an echo through a canyon. It catches in Rick’s ears and stays there. It was himmm. It was himmm. It was him.
Rick scrambles to his feet then slips and falls once. The entire room turns, suddenly aware of him. Rick uses his son’s shoulder to pull up and steady himself before bolting from the room.
No. no. no. Let me go. I didn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. I have to get away. Please don’t lock me up. Please just let me go. Go. I have to go. Oh God. Walk. Keep walking. Just keep moving away from her and away from them and away from that life. They can’t get me. They can’t get me if I go. I go. Here I go.
The nurses’ station flashes by Rick’s peripheral vision.
“Mr. Gleason? Mr. Gleason, are you okay?”
The waiting area passes in a blur. He sees a glimpse of the men’s room sign and a no smoking sign and parking garage next left. The tiling appears especially white and his shoes seem exceptionally black like stones falling onto the floor one after another. Black step, black step, white tile on black steps. There are doors, lots of doors. Rick wants to go through one of them, to escape and hide. But what if he gets caught in the room? What if I can’t keep getting away? So he keeps moving down the hallway, the never ending hallway.
“Daddy…”
The paint on the walls seems too cold. The lights seem too bright and they yell at him.
Is that music? What song is that?
“Daddy?”
I’m hot. I feel really warm. I think I might get sick. Oh, I don’t feel well.
“Dad, wait!”
I hear my baby. I hear my baby needs me. Where is my baby? Where is my boy?
Rick’s stride slows and gradually he stops. He looks around as if just seeing the hospital for the first time. He reaches up to his face and holds his cheeks. They burn.
“Dad.”
Rick turns in slow motion. He stares at his son and his eyes express recognition then comfort. He looks to his son for answers.
“Dad, where are you going?”
“I don’t know, son. Away.”
“But, Dad. You can’t leave.”
“Yes I can, son. I can.”
“Why, Dad? Why do you want to leave?”
“Because. Well. What about, ‘he did it.’”? Rick says it in a singsong voice rocking his head side to side like a child.
“Who is he, daddy? Do you know?”
“Who?” Rick is sad and his son doesn’t understand.
“Yes, who is he? Do you know?” Eli’s eye’s search his father’s for answers.
“I do, son. I’m sorry.” Rick drops his head and starts to walk away.
“You do! You know who Byron is?”
Rick stops and turns back to Eli, “Who? Byron who?”
Eli doesn’t say anything at first. He takes a moment to think. “Byron somebody. Some guy mom met at the bar?”
Epilogue
It wasn’t difficult to find Byron Rockstein, the man Alison picked up at the bar and took to bed after her sister’s death. He was discovered sitting at his favorite table in the same bar where Alison met him. He openly admitted to the crime, gushing with details when asked, relieved to tell someone. He had started stalking her directly after the affair. In his mind, she should have fallen in love with him. He became obsessed with her habits and routines, often watching from the woods when she went for her long runs. He developed resentment toward Rick and was extremely jealous of him.
On the Saturday of the