Alex (13 page)
In the library, Ian used one of the public computers to Google "FMLA".
He'd be eligible for up to twelve weeks of unpaid leave if he had a "serious health condition" that made him unable to do his job.
That sounded like cancer, or something.
Not grieving.
He was pretty sure the company would argue that his situation fell under the corporate policy on bereavement leave.
Under that policy, when his son had died, he had received three days off.
According to Smartlink, that was enough.
Get your ass back to work.
Jesus, it pissed him off.
He'd seen the soulless machine at work before.
But the contrast between Alex - his vitality, his joy, his boundless enthusiasm for life - and the grey, iron gaze of Ian's employer was just staggering.
Weren't the Smartlink executives human beings?
Did any of them have children, did they understand that losing your only child was like having your heart torn from your chest?
How could someone become so caught up in profits and the need to oil the machine that they no longer cared when the brightest points of light in the world were snuffed out?
"Kal can take six weeks for depression,"
he remembered Billi saying, "
and I'm pretty sure that was all bullshit."
He printed out the page and took it home with him.
The house was empty and quiet when he got back.
He set the books he'd checked out on the dining room table and went to the bathroom.
Coming out, he saw that Alex's door was still closed.
He kept expecting to find it open.
Is he still in there?
he wondered.
Is he sitting there right now, waiting for me to come find him?
But if he was, he was being quiet.
That in itself was strange enough that it seemed to rule out the possibility.
Or maybe there really was a light, and he really found it.
Maybe I actually helped him.
A warm glow blossomed in his chest.
It felt
right,
somehow, that notion.
Maybe that was even the reason Alex had come back.
It was horrible, what he had gone through.
Maybe he just hadn't been able to escape it, and he had just needed to hear from his Daddy that it was over.
That he was safe now, and it was okay to go on.
Ian shook his head, let out a breath of disbelief.
It sounded like something from a stupid primetime drama, one of those supernatural ones that took itself far too seriously.
All the same, the warm glow didn't go away.
The steak wasn't gourmet, but it wasn't a total fuck-up, either.
The hardest part was seasoning the thing.
He wasn't sure what was best, so he just used a little seasoning salt and pepper.
For good measure, he sprinkled on some italian seasoning.
He considered the paprika, but that didn't seem appropriate.
As he brought the dishes back into the kitchen, his phone buzzed with a text message from Alina.
-I love you too.
See you Wed.-
He wondered what she had done today.
Worked, probably.
What were her plans for the weekend?
Was she finding her life easier without him?
He carried the phone back into the living room.
The message said
I love you too.
Because of that, he was able to let the other questions go.
"Hey, it's me."
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Nothin.
Called in sick today."
"
Nice
."
Ian chuckled.
"Raid on for tonight?"
"Yeah, planning on it."
The creak of furniture as Derek twisted to see the clock.
"Like an hour, I think?
We're starting invites at seven."
"Got room for a tank?"
"You coming?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Then we will
make
room."
Ian smiled.
"Don't... kick anyone out or anything."
"Nah, I mean I know we have cancellations.
We'll make the tank part work out."
"Sweet."
He wondered whether to say anything else.
"How... is everything?"
Ian let out a long breath.
"Okay.
I mean, not great.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to say again that things are good.
I know that sounds... what?
Fatalistic?
But I can't say it."
Silence.
"It just seems dishonest."
"That's fair."
"I had another one of those dreams last night."
"About Alex?"
"Yeah."
Derek waited.
"It's like I was seeing him after he was kidnapped.
His arms and legs were taped together.
He was... calling for me.
Calling for help.
I couldn't get to him.
Of course."
"Jesus."
"Yeah.
But I told him it was over.
That... you know, because he was gone, the ugly part was over.
The guy who took him can't hurt him anymore.
I told him he was safe now, and he just had to let go.
To go on."
A pause.
"What happened?"
"Well, I haven't -"
Ian stopped himself.
He was about to say,
I haven't seen him all day.
"I mean, there was no light for him to go into or anything.
But he left.
I think... I don't know, it sounds stupid, but I think he might be okay."
"Doesn't sound stupid to me."
"Yeah.
I hope you're right."
"'More things in heaven and earth,'" Derek said.
"I don't know what's out there, but I know a good thing when I hear it.
So should you."
"Yeah."
Ian tasted the idea that Alex was okay in some kind of afterlife.
That he'd been through hell, but it was over; and that he had forgiven his father.
It was good.
He smiled a little bit.
"All right.
See you at seven."
The raid was fun, and distracting.
His skills at tanking had atrophied in the seven months or more since he had last played, but his online friends were too happy to see him to really give him any grief about it.
It felt comforting to get the private whispers welcoming him back, to receive the blithe assurances from people he'd never met in real life that they'd missed him.
To participate in something so trivial, with people who took it so seriously.
When his screen went dark between loading screens, its depths reflected the closed door behind him.
It only caught him by surprise once.
Every time after that, he just closed his eyes for a few seconds until the game's display came back.
They finished up around eleven.
Ian thanked the raid for bringing him, sent Derek a separate message to thank
him
, and logged off.
He went upstairs without looking at the utility room door.
He considered grabbing a snack and watching some infomercials to ease the tension in his neck (it cramped a bit sometimes while he played), but opted against it.
He didn't want to spend tonight the same way he had spent so many other nights.
Tonight had been different.
Tonight he hadn't been alone, or tormented.
Tonight he could imagine playing online again, excelling at work again, having Alina home again.
He went to bed right away, instead, daring to imagine that he could recover.
He was in that twilight place between sleeping and awareness, where the edges of mundane thought just start to bleed into dreaming, when Alex screamed.
Ian's body seized.
His eyes shot open and he stared upwards, into the dark and the silence, heart hammering.
The red gaze of his alarm clock glimmered on the wall.
The blurry shape of the ceiling fan crouched above him.
He waited for the second scream, the one that would confirm it hadn't been a nightmare.
His nightmares had woken him more than once since Alex had been taken.
Maybe -
"DAD-
DEEEEEEEEE!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his own sudden urge to scream.
Grabbed his pillow and clamped it against his ears.
"DAD-
DEEEEEEEEE!"
The pillow didn't help.
"IT'S TOO
DARK!
DAD-DEEEE!
OPEN THE DOOR!
"
Ian jumped out of bed, ran into the hall, grabbed the knob on his son's door.
"DADDY!
IT'S TOO DARK!”
His hand clenched the knob, but he didn't turn it.
He wanted to throw the door open and scream, or throw the door open and comfort his son.
He wanted to run outside, right now, and get away.
He'd thought he was done.
He'd thought he really made a difference.
"DAD-
DEEEEEEEEE -"
"Alex!" he barked through the door.
The screaming stopped.
He didn't know what to say next.
He had just needed that screaming to stop.
Through the door he heard sobbing.
It wasn't the same as the noises Alex had made the night before.
It was heart-rending, yes.
But it was bearable.
"Alex," he said again, less sharply.
"Why are you crying?"
"Be - be - be -" The boy stammered over his words, choking on tears.
"Because you - you - you closed the
door!
"
We warned you, Alex.
You knew if you kept playing instead of going to sleep like you were supposed to, that we would close the door.
But he said, "Alex, do you remember what we talked about last night?"
Silence.
"This isn't a place for you, anymore.
Do you remember?"
Quiet sobbing.
"You need to go on to the next place.
Remember?
You're too sad here, and you need to go on.
You'll be happier -"
"Dad - Dad -"
Huge, gulping breaths.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
Alex's voice trembled as he fought to keep it under control.
"May you open the door, please?"
Ian winced, felt tears burning down his cheeks.
This had been hard for him when it had been real - he and Alina had constantly reminded each other that Alex had to learn that bedtime meant bedtime.
They weren't flaying the flesh from his bones as his cries would seem to indicate; they were merely closing his door so he didn't have light to play by.
They were in the right, they were the parents, and teaching him to go to sleep at night was their job, however difficult he might make it -
But that logic was obsolete.
Alex was still in the dark, still screaming for his father, but the nightmares that must plague that darkness now...!
He turned the knob, nearly pushed the door open - and remembered caving to his son in life.
All right, Alex.
Listen to me.
We'll leave the door open a crack.
Okay?
But you have to go to sleep.
No more playing.
It is really late, you need your sleep, and Mommy and Daddy have to work in the morning.
Do you understand?
