Sleep Savannah Sleep

by Alistair Cross

  Jason stood there, throat working convulsively as if he were choking on something. Then, finally, he forced his feet to move, and for the second time he ran from the woman, hurrying into the house as if the hounds of Hell were at his heels.

  The shadows of night were gathered thickly around him, and an oblong of pale moonlight stretched across the hardwood floor, captivating his gaze. He lay in bed for a long time, staring but not really seeing, listening as the wind lifted the climbing ivy beside his window, tapping it against the sill like brittle, clicking fingers. Tabitha Cooper’s fingers.

  His mind flitted between the dreadful old woman and the scene he’d stumbled upon in the forest. Savannah and the stranger. It had aroused him, and he resented that. A part of him hated the man - whoever he was - for taking advantage of Savannah. Another part envied him. There’d been little doubt about Savannah’s skills - the man’s groans, and his face, had said it all.

  Jason shifted around uncomfortably, trying to think of more mundane things - What to get at the grocery store, what to cook for dinner tomorrow night, what finishing touches to put on the massage studio - and after over an hour of listening to the tapping ivy leaves, he became drowsy at last, and finally dozed.

  He dreamed of his father. It wasn’t a dream so much as a memory replaying itself. Jason was nine years old and he’d wet the bed. He’d been doing really well - the accidents were rare now - but he woke that morning to the too-familiar chill of wet sheets and the acerbic smell of urine - and he panicked. He wadded the sheets up into a tight ball, and peered out his bedroom door. It was twenty-two steps to the washing machine - he’d counted them many times - and if he could get to it without his father noticing, he wouldn’t get a beating.

  Seeing no one in the hall, he tiptoed toward the washer, counting his steps. One, two, three, four, five, six …

  And that was when his father stepped out of the bathroom.

  Jason immediately froze.

  His father’s bloodshot eyes bulged and his nostrils flared as he glanced down at the wadded sheets Jason held. His mad grinning face was scruffy-bearded and covered with burst capillaries; it was the kind of face that made mothers in grocery stores gather their children close - Jason had seen it happen. “What have you got there, you little piece of shit?” His white t-shirt was ringed with ever-expanding yellow sweat stains under the arms, and he smelled bad - it was the smell that meant he’d been drinking. “Piss yourself again, did you?”

  Jason stammered. He wanted to answer his father - he knew what happened when he didn’t answer - but the words wouldn’t come.

  “Get your worthless ass back into your room and put those fucking sheets back on your bed right now.”

  Jason’s mother appeared at the end of the hall in a ratty pink robe and curlers in her hair. He looked to her for help, begged her with his eyes, but he knew it was no use. She watched him with a tired, vacant stare, then simply said, “Breakfast’s almost ready.” She turned and went back into the kitchen, abandoning him.

  Jason screamed as his father grabbed his arm and yanked him back down the hall and into his bedroom. He hurled him onto the bed, shoved the soiled sheets into his face as he screamed at him, telling him he was useless, a fag, a loser - and that he’d sleep in his dirty sheets until the stink got so bad they’d send him home from school. And Jason knew he wasn’t bluffing - it had happened before. But sleeping in soiled sheets wasn’t the worst of it. As his father continued screaming, his fury escalated, as it always did, until the tirade turned physical.

  That day, Jason suffered his first sprained wrist, his second broken arm, and another dozen bruises on his back, buttocks, and legs - never on his face or arms where anyone could see.

  When Jason woke from the dream, it took some time before he realized he was no longer that helpless little boy. The present caught up with him and he slowly became aware of where he was now, who he was now, and that his father could no longer hurt him.

  But that didn’t stop him from weeping. In the dark, he shook with sobs, hating his father for doing the things he’d done, hating his mother for standing by, and - even though he knew it wasn’t rational - hating himself for letting it happen. That was the worst part of it - the self-loathing; it was something only the abused really understood.

  For the hundredth time in his adult life, Jason vowed he’d never allow anyone to make him hate himself again.

  8

  Violation

  Claiming a skull-splitting headache, Brent had begged until Jason finally allowed him to stay home from school. Given the dark circles under his eyes, it was clear the kid felt like hell, and Jason hoped it would be a lesson to Brent about drinking and smoking pot and staying out late. “Even if it takes a day or two, the hangovers always catch up.” Jason shut the door, allowing Brent to go back to sleep, then headed to Amber’s room.

  “Come on, sweetie. We’re going to be late.”

  “Okay, Daddy. I’m ready.”

  As they headed downstairs, she asked, “Where’s Brent?”

  “He doesn’t feel well, so it’s just you and me this morning.”

  Jason grabbed her backpack off the coat hook in the foyer, handed it to her, and the two of them headed to the car. When they got buckled in, Jason remembered the blue bunny he’d set up for her to find. “I think I forgot my wallet.” He patted himself down and pretended to look perplexed. “I think I left it in here.” He checked the glove box and under the seats. “Will you look in the back and see if it’s there, sweetie?”

  Amber sighed. “You’re very dis-dis-organazized, Daddy.” It was obvious she’d learned a new word.

  Jason laughed.

  Amber unbuckled her seatbelt and made to crawl between the seats, gasping in excitement when she saw her new toy. “A bunny!”

  “He wanted to come home with me last night,” said Jason. “He said he wants to live with you.”

  She squealed, snatched the bunny up, and squeezed it tight. “I love him!”

  “It looks like he loves you, too. Put your seatbelt back on.”

  “But what about your wallet?”

  “I was just teasing. It’s in my pocket.”

  “You shouldn’t tell lies, Daddy.”

  Jason laughed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  She squeezed the stuffed toy again. “Thank you, Daddy!”

  “You’re welcome.” Jason put the car in reverse and pulled out of the drive. “So, what are you going to name him?”

  Amber thought about this. “Reginald Breedlove,” she said at last.

  Jason burst into laughter. “Where did you come up with that?”

  Amber shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Jason shook his head. As he drove, Amber cuddled the bunny and told him all about how much fun they were going to have together after school. She was sure he was going to love his big sister, Ruby.

  Jason pulled up to the curb at Shadow Springs Elementary. “I’ll keep Reginald company while you’re at school, okay?”

  She was reluctant to let the bunny go, but didn’t argue. “Okay. I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you, too.” Jason kissed his daughter and watched her until she disappeared inside the yellow building.

  Heading home, without the pleasant distraction of Amber’s company, Jason’s mind bounced from Savannah Sturgess and the mystery-man in the woods - Who the hell was that guy, anyway? - to his recent conversations with Brent - I think we’re finally starting to see eye-to-eye - to Coop’s grandmother in the house next door - What is she doing when she stares out the window like that? Is she really psychic? Is there any such thing? And finally, to his dream about his father - I thought I’d gotten all of my hatred toward him out of my system. And, I hope the night terrors aren’t making a comeback ...

  And he thought about Hallie Bessner. As if returning to a crime scene for new clues, he dissected their conversations and memorized her smile, her laugh, her smell. And the way her hand felt over his. He really liked this
woman, and he wasn’t comfortable with that. His mind circled the problem and he forced it onto other things - but it always came back to Hallie.

  When he got home, he went straight to the studio. He’d ordered a wooden Buddha face wall hanging and some framed nature portraits to Zen the place up, and he was eager to get it underway.

  He deliberated over what should go where, finally settling on an arrangement that had a nice, cozy flow. Good Feng Shui is important. After that, he did some more cleaning, shining up the desk, vacuuming, and polishing the light fixtures. When he was finished, nearly two hours later, he was pleased. Minus the sauna, which would take some doing, the room was fully formed. It was time to start advertising in earnest. And for that, he’d need some nice professional business cards. He shut the door and headed upstairs for something to eat.

  In the kitchen, Brent leaned against the counter, guzzling orange juice out of the carton.

  “Don’t do that, Brent. It’s gross.” Jason opened a cupboard and found a granola bar.

  “Whatever.” Brent rolled his eyes and shoved the juice back into the fridge.

  “How are you feeling?” Jason wolfed down the granola bar in two bites.

  Brent shrugged. He looked rough, his hair spiking out, his eyes bloodshot and puffy, his skin pasty. “Could be worse, I guess. I’m going back to bed.” He left the room, not once looking Jason in the eye.

  At least he has the good grace to be ashamed of himself. Jason downed a glass of water, then went into the living room and fired up his laptop to search for a company that made business cards he’d be proud to pass around.

  He scrolled for a while, finding no shortage of options, and after realizing he’d left his phone in his bedroom, he headed upstairs to make some calls. In his room, he paused in front of Julia’s picture on his dresser. He couldn’t help wondering how she’d feel about his attraction to Hallie. She said she wanted me to move on and be happy, but … One part of him knew it wasn’t worth worrying about - he had no intention of starting anything with Hallie. But another part of him still felt like he was betraying Julia.

  He took his phone off its charger and left the room, heading across the hall to give his bladder some much needed relief. Pushing the bathroom door open, he gasped, then fumbled clumsily in a futile attempt to pull it closed.

  But it was too late.

  Brent, pants around his ankles, shot up from the toilet, his erect penis jutting in one lotion-slathered hand. “Get out!” He doubled over, grabbing his pants.

  “Oh, my God, Brent, I’m sor-”

  “Get out! GET OUT!” Brent hurled himself at the door, slamming it shut.

  Jason’s heart beat furiously. He was humiliated - for both of them. “I’m sorry, Brent,” he said to the door. “I didn’t know you were in-”

  “Leave me alone!”

  Jason certainly couldn’t blame him for that. He closed his eyes, bearing down on his embarrassment, knowing that any progress he’d recently made with Brent had just been destroyed. How will he ever look me in the eye again? Damn it, Brent! Why didn’t you lock the door?

  At three o’clock, Jason idled in the parking lot at Shadow Springs Elementary, waiting for Amber. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Brent since the catastrophe in the bathroom, and he didn’t expect to for as long as Brent could manage to avoid him. But eventually, they’d have to face each other, and then what? What will I say? What will he say? Though hours had passed, the embarrassment burned all over again whenever the incident crashed back into his mind - which seemed like every minute or two.

  Though he’d heard plenty of horror stories, Jason had never been caught in such an intimate moment by either of his parents. Julia had walked in on him once - but that hadn’t been a tragedy. It had been a briefly embarrassing blunder that quickly turned into foreplay. Surprise foreplay, but foreplay, nonetheless.

  I shouldn’t have just walked in like that … but how was I to know?

  He watched parents pick up their children and drive away, wondering what was taking Amber so long. She was usually one of the first out the door; he figured she’d be especially eager to get out today so she could play with her new stuffed bunny. Jason looked at Reginald Breedlove in the passenger seat and tapped his fingers.

  Another few minutes passed and still, there was no sign of her. Jason was beginning to worry. He took his seatbelt off, got out of the car, and headed inside to find her.

  In the building, he asked the closest adult where Mr. Chazen’s room was, then headed toward it, telling himself Amber had been held after class for acting up. It wasn’t like her, he knew, but right now, it was the only thought he could stand.

  Mr. Chazen’s door was open. A few stray children lingered within, but none were Amber.

  “Excuse me?”

  The teacher, a strange little man whose face reminded Jason of a rotting apple, stopped writing on the chalkboard and looked at him.

  “Have you seen Amber Crandall?”

  Chazen blinked at him. “She left with the others, of course.” He glanced at the clock. “Class let out almost ten minutes ago.”

  Terror spiked Jason’s blood. “I didn’t - I can’t seem to find her. I-” Is it possible I missed her? Did she not see me and start walking home?

  “I saw her,” said a little boy who sat at his desk, coloring. “Her daddy picked her up.”

  “Her daddy?” Jason’s shaking voice was thin and hoarse. “What? I’m her daddy.” He stepped to the kid’s desk. “Who picked her up? Who did you see? When did this happen?”

  The little boy’s eyes went wide and his chin quivered. “I … I …I don’t remember. I just … I saw her leave with her daddy.” His face collapsed and he sobbed. Chazen hurried over to the child as Jason dashed from the room, down the hall, and out of the building, nearly tripping down the steps and almost crashing into several children outside. In the car, he dialed Brent, willing him to pick up.

  He did.

  “Brent! Is Amber there? I’m at the school and-”

  “Huh? Why would she be here? I thought you-”

  “Damn it!”

  “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “She’s not here! I gotta go.” Jason threw the car into gear and peeled out of the lot, his hand trembling as he tried to dial the police. It took three tries, but he finally got it.

  It rang.

  It rang again.

  “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Jason slammed his fist on the steering wheel. Hot panicked tears stung his eyes.

  At last, someone picked up.

  Just then, his phone beeped - he had another call. It was Brent.

  Jason switched over. “Brent!”

  “She just got here, Dad. Apparently, someone gave her a ride home and-”

  A sound came out of Jason - something between a sigh of relief and a sob. “I’m on my way!”

  He asked Amber the same things a dozen times: Who picked you up? What did he look like? What did he drive? Have you ever seen him before? Did he touch you? Did he bring you straight home?

  She didn’t know, she didn’t think so, she couldn’t remember - and finally, under the pressure, she broke down and sobbed.

  But he’d gathered this much: She’d never seen the man before, he hadn’t touched her, he’d brought her straight home, and his vehicle was black. Jason knew exactly who’d picked his daughter up from school. “Come on, both of you. I’m taking you to Dottie’s for a while.”

  Brent opened his mouth to argue, but Jason cut him off.

  “I know you’re too old to be babysat, Brent, but this is something different. You’ll go and you’ll be pleasant, help keep an eye on your sister, and I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

  Brent looked pissed, but said nothing.

  “Come on,” said Jason.

  Amber nodded and wiped her eyes. “Okay, Daddy.”

  Together, the three of them traipsed next door, and at Dottie’s, Jason tried not to sound so shaken. “I wondered if you’d mind watching Amb
er for a while - maybe just a half an hour or so. Brent will help you.” His voice shook. “I have to take care of something and I’d really appreciate it if-”

  “Of course.” Dottie ushered the kids inside. She closed the door, her eyes going wide. “Jason? What’s happened?”

  “I can’t get into it now, but I need to call the police and I don’t want the kids to be-”

  “Of course. Go.”

  Jason ran back to the house.

  Deputy Brady Elkins was a dick. A great big balding, useless dick.

  “Well, Mr. Crandall,” he droned. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

  Jason clenched his jaw. “I want you to arrest that son of a bitch.”

  Elkins sighed. “The thing is, we don’t even know if it was Travis Delgado that-”

  “Goddammit, it was him! I told you how he looked at her! And what about this?” He pointed to his black eye.

  “But even if it was Delgado, what would I charge him with? You already said your girl’s fine. He didn’t do anything untoward and-”

  “He took my daughter in his car and-”

  “And drove her home to you.” Elkins gave him a helpless smile.

  “No! He-”

  “Don’t you think it’s possible he saw her walking home and simply stopped to give her a ride?” Elkins sat forward on Jason’s sofa.

  “No, I don’t think that’s what happened.”

  He leaned back and sighed, his belly bulging. “Look, Mr. Crandall. I know you’re from the big city and probably don’t know how it works around here, but in Shadow Springs, we help each other out. There’s no crime in doing someone a favor. You can’t charge someone for kindness.”

  “Kindness? Kindness?” Jason’s voice rose. “There’s nothing kind about that man!”

  Elkins nodded. “Travis has a bit of a temper, I’ll give you that, but he’s harmless.”