The Ash House

by Cross, Amy

  “He's going to be fine, sweetheart.”

  “He's a good boy,” I continue. “He's smart and he's strong.”

  “He's the most wonderful boy. He's a real credit to you.”

  “And he'll get over this,” I whisper. “He'll get over me. He won't be sad all his life, will he?”

  “Well he's going to be -”

  She stops, and when I turn to her I see that there are tears in her eyes.

  “He's going to be just fine,” she continues, and now her voice is trembling. She forces a smile through the tears before putting her arms around me from behind and holding me tight, and then she rests her face against my shoulder.

  I watch Daniel playing for a moment longer, and I swear I can feel myself weakening with each passing second. It's almost as if, now I know the paperwork is done, I'm shutting down even faster than before. I don't want that to be true, but at the same time I don't have the strength to fight anymore.

  “I didn't come here to die,” I say finally. “That's the last thing I wanted. I was going to go away for that part.”

  “Don't talk about it,” Mum sobs, squeezing me even tighter.

  “I wasn't going to put you guys through this,” I continue, watching as Daniel disappears into the ash house, and then as he comes out the other side. “Time just kind of got away from me.”

  “I wouldn't have let you go,” she replies. “You understand that, don't you? Never in a million years. You're still my little girl, Diane, and this is your home. You belong here with me.”

  “I need to write that letter,” I whisper, still watching Daniel. “He won't talk to me. Not properly. I wanted to tell him things, but I'm pretty sure he's avoiding me. Mum, can you get me a piece of paper and pen? I think I finally know what I have to put in the letter. It's the one last thing I haven't done yet.”

  “Of course.”

  She lets go of me and hurries through to the other room, and I can hear her constantly sniffing back more tears. I turn and watch as she disappears from view, and then I realize I feel extremely dizzy. Reaching up, I touch the side of my face, and I'm shocked to find that my skin feels so cold and clammy. Like the skin of a dead person.

  “I just need to write the letter,” I say out loud, as much to remind myself as to let Mum know. “Then I'm done. Just the letter, that's all now.”

  I can hear Mum in the next room.

  “Just the letter,” I whisper, watching Daniel for a moment longer and thinking of the things I have to tell him. I think it's going to be a long letter.

  I pause for a moment, before realizing that I need to get to the table. I'm not exactly steady on my feet, and I should wait for Mum to help, but I tell myself that I should be able to walk across a goddamn room one more time. I start making my way from the window, taking care to stay balanced, although I feel as if a weight is swinging violently from one side of my chest to the other.

  And then, without any warning at all, my knees buckle and I fall. I try to catch myself, but I can't even move my arms in time. The world seems to slow around me, and for a moment I actually start to think that maybe I'll never actually land. Finally, however, I slam down against the carpet with such force that every bone in my body seems to shudder, and I let out one final, pained gasp.

  As I hear Mum running through, I realize I don't have the strength to get back up. I don't think I'll ever have the strength.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Daniel

  “Daniel!” Nana calls through. “Lunch is almost ready! Will you set the table, please?”

  “Coming!”

  I hesitate for a few seconds, staring at the spot on the floor where Mum fell that day. I feel a faint shiver pass through my chest as I relive that moment over and over. I remember the sound of her falling, and I remember Nana's panicked voice as she shouted for me to fetch the phone. I remember going into the room and seeing Mum looking so weak and pale on the floor, and I remember the way she looked up at me.

  Then the ambulance came, and we all went to the hospital, and later that day only Nana and I came home.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Diane

  I can hear hushed voices. At first I think they're far away, maybe in the corridor outside the hospital room, but then I realize they're actually much closer. Right next to the bed, even.

  I try to focus, to work out what they're saying, but all the words seem to be running together. They slip away echoing all around me. Why can't I understand them? Are they another language? Are they backward?

  I try again, and this time I'm able to pick the voices out from one another. One of them is Mum, and one I think is the bald doctor with the black beard. I don't know why, but I remember that doctor really well, even though everything else feels so distant and faded.

  Finally I hear footsteps walking away, and a moment later I feel Mum's hand on my shoulder. Then there's a shuffling sound, and this seems much, much closer than anything else.

  “That was Doctor Lupton,” Mum says, leaning toward my ear and speaking in a calm, soft tone. “He's going to come back in half an hour and see how you're doing.”

  I try to turn and look at her, but I can't move my head.

  I try to open my eyes, but I've forgotten how.

  Where are my eyes, anyway?

  I try to speak, but all that emerges is the faintest breath that ruffles my dry and chapped lips. I doubt Mum even noticed that I made the effort. I think I let out a faint murmur, just a pained groan, but I'm not even sure of that. Maybe it was just in my head.

  “Are your pillows okay?” Mum asks. “Let's plump those up a bit for you.”

  I try to tell her that the pillows are fine, that I don't care about the goddamn pillows, but she starts rearranging them anyway. To be honest, the constant movement is a little nauseating, and I try to ask her to stop. All I can do, however, is wait until finally she stops.

  “There,” she continues, “isn't that better? You'll feel much more comfortable now.”

  “Daniel,” I whisper.

  Or did I?

  Did I actually get the word out?

  “What was that?” Mum asks, and I can feel her breath against my ear.

  “Daniel,” I say again, with every ounce of strength I can muster. “Daniel.”

  “Daniel's right here,” she replies, and then I hear her say something that I can't quite make out.

  A moment later I feel Daniel's hand on my wrist, as if he's been sitting next to the bed this whole time and he's only now dared to touch me. I can't see him and I can't hear him, but I know it's him. I'd know him anywhere.

  “Get him out of here,” I try to say. “I don't want him to see this.”

  “It's a very wet and windy day,” Mum continues. “Can you hear the rain against the window, Diane? Of course, we're up on the eighth floor, so I suppose that makes it sound worse. It's very blustery out there, which is a surprise since the weather forecast this morning said it'd be dry. Those people don't really know what they're talking about, do they? They stand there pontificating and gesturing, but it's all just guesswork.”

  She carries on and on, delving deeper than ever into her pet theory about how meteorologists are all just bluffing the whole time, but her words fade into the background. Instead I focus on the sensation of Daniel's hand on my arm. I try to turn and look at him, but I can't muster the strength, and after a moment I realize I can hear my heart thudding with each beat, getting louder and louder in my ears. I can feel each beat too, throbbing across one side of my face.

  “Daniel,” I try to whisper, but again I don't know if the word actually gets out. “Daniel, I don't want you to see the -”

  Wait, what was I saying?

  I try to remember, and then I realize that I've begun to drift into a very calm, very comfortable sleep. I try to bring myself back, but it's hard to wake up when you can't even open your eyes. I shift my position slightly, trying to get comfortable, but suddenly I realize I drifted back to sleep. I move my head,
trying to get my eyes open, and after a moment I realize I can feel Daniel's hand still resting on my wrist.

  Being awake and being asleep feel the same now. The only difference is that when I'm awake, I'm aware of Daniel being close.

  And when I'm asleep, I'm not aware of anything at all.

  Finally I manage to bring myself back to the room, and I can hear voices again. I think Mum's talking to the doctor, which means I was gone for at least half an hour, maybe even longer. And then suddenly the voices are gone, and I realize I drifted away again. How long for this time?

  Trying not to panic, I tell myself to stay focused and to open my eyes. When that fails, I try to listen to the beeps from the nearby machines, but even these seem to drift in and out of range. I try to really concentrate, and at one point I think I hear Mum whispering in my ear again, but the lure of sleep is getting stronger and stronger. I can feel something pulling on my spine, trying to drag me down into the bed, trying to take m so deep that I can never come up again.

  And then, after another dazed moment, I realize something has changed.

  It takes a few seconds longer before I realize that my heart has stopped pounding. I guess that's a good thing, because the sound was starting to annoy me, but then it occurs to me that maybe my heart has stopped beating altogether.

  I tell myself that can't be right, that I wouldn't be aware of my heart stopping, but somehow my body feels very still.

  I'm not breathing.

  Gasping, I suddenly force myself to sit up in the bed. A wire pulls tight against the side of my neck, but I don't care as I finally manage to open my eyes. Everything in the room is bright and blurry, and I can hear voices speaking frantically. Blurred figures rush into view and I can feel hands on my shoulders, as if people on either side of the bed are trying to gently force me down. I try to push them away, so that they can't interfere, but they seem really really determined to make me settle back down.

  I take a slow, painful breath that makes my throat burn, and then somehow I find the strength to reach up and touch the side of my neck.

  “Diane, are you okay?” an unfamiliar voice asks nearby. “Diane, what's wrong?”

  Searching desperately for a pulse, I find nothing, so I try my wrist instead.

  “What's she doing?” another voice asks.

  Still no pulse.

  It must be there, though. It must just be so weak that I can't find it beneath my skin. I keep searching, however, until finally someone takes my arm and moves it away, and I'm powerless to resist as I'm very slowly, very carefully lowered back down against the bed.

  “Diane, sweetheart, what are you doing?”

  I touch the side of my neck again.

  Am I breathing?

  I don't think I'm breathing.

  “Diane, this is Doctor Fournier. Can you try to look at me?”

  My mouth is dry and still, and I can't remember how to start breathing again. I try a couple of times, but all I manage is a set of agonizing gasps. Trying to open my throat a little further, I tilt my head back and use all my remaining strength to try a really big, deep breath, but nothing happens.

  Maybe I am breathing.

  Maybe I just feel like I'm not.

  I grip the bed-sheets with my hands and squeeze tight, trying again to find the strength, but in the end I simply slump against the bed and try to think of some other way I can force air into my lungs. At the same time, a sharp pain is filling my chest, and I feel as if my breastbone is going to crack inward at any moment.

  And then I realize I've been drifting away again, but this time I can't quite find my way back. I want to wake up, but everything is getting darker and darker. And then, finally, I realize that my eyes are open and that I can't close them, and my mouth is open, and I'm still gripping the sheets, and my head is still tilted back, and nothing in my body is moving.

  I can feel hands still touching my arms, and people kissing my face, but even those sensations are starting to fade. And the voices are disappearing one by one, like dying stars in the night sky, and now I can't feel anything at all except that my thoughts are getting thinner. It's as if a huge knot has been untied and all my memories are coming apart, falling into separate strands and getting lost in the void.

  I try to cling on, to remember who I am, but all I'm really aware of is the darkness all around.

  I can't close my mouth.

  I want to close my mouth.

  Why can't I close my mouth?

  And then I realize I can't even feel my mouth anymore. I can't feel anything. I try to move my hands, then my toes, then my head, but nothing works. I try to take a deep breath, and then in desperation I try to cry out. I think I heard a rattling sound coming from my throat a moment ago, but I can't make the same noise again.

  “Daniel.”

  The name is enough to stir me, to bring a few strands of my thoughts back together.

  “Daniel.”

  I know that name, but it takes a moment longer before I remember his face.

  I can't leave him.

  I barely remember who I am, but somewhere deep inside I have a strong sense that I can't leave Daniel.

  “Daniel,” the voice says again.

  I lift my face from the void and look around, trying to see who's speaking.

  “Daniel.”

  It's me.

  The name is coming from my own lips. I say it again and again, and each time I remember a little more. I see his face in my mind, and I hear his voice, and then I see him playing when he was just a baby. I remember holding him, I remember his warmth, and I remember his cry. And the more I remember him, the more I remember myself, and the more I start to become aware of my own body again.

  “Daniel.”

  I try to look around, but all I see is darkness.

  I'm not in the bed anymore. I'm standing up straight, surrounded by silence, but slowly my thoughts are starting to drift back. They're not quite tied together again, but at least I'm starting to remember who I am, and I'm also starting to realize that a lot of time has passed. I think I was drifting for much longer than I first thought, maybe for several hours or even days.

  I think at one point I even stopped being aware of myself.

  There's something ahead of me, though, even if I can only see a vast blank nothingness. I hesitate for a moment, too terrified to look, and then finally I realize that if I don't look, I'll simply drift away again. The idea of losing myself is so tempting, but after a moment I take a step forward and find that the darkness is starting to lift.

  “Daniel,” the voice says again.

  Louder this time.

  “Daniel.”

  “Daniel.”

  Daniel.

  Gasping, I take another step forward and see a series of tall, vertical lines straight ahead.

  I take another step and feel cold air on my shoulders, then another step that brings a sudden crunching sound that's coming from beneath my feet.

  I stop and look around, and I'm starting to think that maybe I recognize this place. Still, my memories are jumbled and I'm having trouble clinging on to my name, so I take a few more steps forward until suddenly I stop again and look around and realize that I'm in a forest.

  No, I'm in the forest.

  At that moment the whole world seems to tip and send me spinning. I fall forward and slam against a tree, and then I cling to the cold, wet bark as I try to stay on my feet. Something's pulling me back, drawing me into a howling voice of nothingness, screaming at me to fall away. I dig my fingers deeper into the bark of the tree, determined to stay where I am, even as the howling sound gets louder and louder, and as an icy storm rushes against my body and tries to force me back.

  My ears hurt, and finally I scream as I feel my fingertips slicing against the tree's rough surface. I close my eyes tight and hold on as hard as I can manage, and then – just as I think I might be pulled away – the howling sound stops and I realize I'm simply resting against the tree.

  Ope
ning my eyes, I finally dare to look around.

  I'm in the forest near Mum's house. It's night, with just a few patches of moonlight, but I can feel a cool breeze blowing between the trees and when I turn and look over my shoulder I see the vast forest stretching off into the distance.

  I'm forgetting something.

  Some of my memories have returned and knitted back together, but others are still not very distinct.

  And there's something very important that I can't quite bring to the forefront of my thoughts.

  Daniel.

  “Daniel,” I whisper, and I immediately start hurrying through the forest as I realize that I have to find my son. How could I forget him? How could I let him slip from my mind, even for one second?

  I walk faster and faster, and then I start running, and finally I race between the trees, frantically trying to get back to the house as quickly as possible.

  After a moment I stop and look around, and then I realize I've been going the wrong way. I turn and hurry through the night, desperate to find the house. I don't know how I ended up out here in the forest, and I don't know why the pain is suddenly gone, but I do know one thing.

  I have to find my son. He needs me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Daniel

  Leaning my bike against the railing outside the town library, I take a moment to hang my helmet from the handlebars and then I head to the main door.

  Libraries suck, but since Nana doesn't have the internet at her house, I guess I've got no choice. And while she sent me into town to do some errands, she'll never know if I take a slight detour first.

  ***

  “And what are you looking at there, young man?”

  Startled, I turn to see that one of the women from the counter has come over to watch as I use a computer. I look back at the screen, where I've just brought up a webpage run by the local newspaper, but I guess it's too late to hide the headline now. Besides, I'm not doing anything wrong.

  “Oh, the house out on Cunver Road,” she says, stopping right behind me. “Very sad. I think the lady who lives there just lost her daughter the other week. I saw an ambulance racing out there.”