The Listeners

by Jordan Tannahill

  I need you to stop this, Howard said, and then pointed to the gun. And I need you to put that away.

  Yeah, I can’t listen to this, I said. I looked to Kyle and, from the forlorn look on his face, I could tell he felt the same.

  You think we’re the only people who’ve ever discovered this? Damian asked me.

  Of course not, Jo said, answering for me.

  All around the world, Damian said, continuing to look at me, throughout time, people have discovered they can hear it, and tap into it, and each one of them has been kept down, or discredited, or jailed, or burned at the stake. Systematically.

  Howard, a large vein now visible in his forehead, pointed to Damian—I am not going to sit here and listen to conspiracy theories about something I have been working years to gain a legitimate and scientific knowledge of.

  The conspiracy is what is being done to us, Damian replied. It’s only a theory until there’s evidence and the evidence is all around us, we are living proof of—

  Enough, Howard shouted, startling everyone to silence. That’s enough. Now put that away or get out.

  Damian looked shocked—Out?

  I’m not going to ask you again.

  You’d kick me out?

  I—

  Just like that? Damian asked. This is my family, Howard. I am doing this because you’re my family.

  I know, Howard said, his conviction wavering.

  Emily nodded—We know, hun.

  This is about defending what is most precious to us.

  Nora leaned forward and touched Damian’s hand—Damian, please. Just … put it away.

  And finally, at Nora’s gentle insistence, he relented. He picked the gun up off the coffee table, and locked it back into its holster, concealed from view under his untucked flannel shirt. He then plunked himself back down in his chair.

  I can’t believe you’d kick me out, he muttered, glancing at Howard.

  I-I wouldn’t. I’m sorry.

  I took a breath and unclenched my fists. I felt a strange mix of anger and protectiveness towards Damian. Perhaps it was the feeling of wanting to protect him from himself.

  We are here for each other, Jo said, pouring her voice over the hot coals of the moment. And we love each other. Yes?

  Everyone nodded, glancing around the circle.

  Let’s say it so we remember—We love each other.

  We all intoned in unison, after Jo.

  And we are working towards something beautiful and difficult and yes, there will be challenges ahead, but we do not need fear and division right now, Jo said.

  Shawn removed a Tupperware container from a literary festival tote bag beside him—What we need are some delicious vegan samosas, and thankfully I made twelve.

  Everyone laughed, except Damian. Mia clapped appreciatively.

  They’re not warm, they’re cold, but whatever, they’re delicious carbs soaked in oil, Shawn said. He opened the lid and set the container off on its journey around the circle.

  Is everyone okay? Mia asked. Are we good?

  All I’m saying is that they will come for us, Damian said.

  And then, with truly cosmic timing, the doorbell rang. Damian gestured to the door, vindicated.

  Shawn burst into his inimitable laugh and held up his arms—Well hey Nostradamus!

  Ay, dios mio, Nora murmured under her breath.

  Howard rose to answer the front door, but Jo stopped him. Everything’s fine, he told her.

  Love, please, Jo said, imploring Howard to ignore it, but he insisted on checking to see who it was. He crossed to the front door and looked through the peephole. It’s a woman, he said. I don’t recognize her.

  What’s she look like? Jo asked, standing a few paces behind him, hugging herself.

  She’s blond. In her forties.

  The doorbell rang again, as Kyle jumped up, crossed to the door, and looked through the peephole himself.

  Fuck, he said. It’s my mom.

  Oh, thank god. Emily laughed in relief. My heart was just—She pounded her fist against her chest.

  The doorbell rang again, and Kyle turned to Howard and Jo, panicked—Don’t. Please.

  She’s just going to keep ringing it until someone answers, Jo said.

  I know.

  None of us want a repeat of last time, Leslie said.

  No, my goodness, Nora said.

  Emily stood up—I could go out and say something.

  No, Kyle said, firmly. She’s trying to keep me away, but I can’t, this is my—This is where I need to be, with all of you, and she can’t accept that. If I go home with her she’ll stop me from coming.

  Mia reassured him that we wouldn’t let that happen.

  She’ll mess with my head and make me see doctors and I can’t, I can’t see her right now. Please.

  Jo hugged him—Of course, love.

  Damian was up now at the living room window, peering out through the curtain. I hate to say it, Claire, he said, but your husband’s also out there.

  What?

  With what looks like your daughter.

  My heart sank as the others registered their disbelief. I went to the window, took hold of the curtain, and peeped through it myself. Paul and Ashley were standing having what looked to be an argument beside Paul’s car.

  They must’ve drove her here, Kyle said.

  I had told Kyle not to give Paul his mother’s damn number, and now look. I watched my husband and daughter, their voices mute, and wondered whether they even thought of this as a betrayal. This woman was the reason I didn’t have a fucking job, did they not get that? And now they were conspiring with her against me? Classy, guys. Really fucking classy. The doorbell rang again, and Shawn joked that we could turn it into a drinking game.

  I really think someone should just tell—Emily started, before looking over at Kyle—sorry, your mom’s name?

  Brenda.

  Tell Brenda that you’re happy and safe but you’re not coming out.

  No, you don’t know my mom. That would go down like a ton of shit.

  I just wonder—

  No, Emily, trust me, she’d go ballistic. It’s better just to wait her out.

  And then, from the other side of the front door, Brenda began using her voice like a sledgehammer.

  Kyle! Open up this goddamn door. I’ll be go to hell if you think I’m going to leave here without you. I can wait you out, buddy. I’ve got all goddamn day. All this time telling me you were at Mark’s! How many weeks? I go to his door and he has no idea what I’m talking about. Can you imagine how I felt? And to everyone else in there right now, I’m putting all your asses behind bars. You hear me? Claire Devon, I know you’re in there.

  I exchanged glances with the others. Shawn donned a comically exaggerated face of panic, like a Munch painting, which cracked me up despite the circumstances. I don’t think he realized just how serious the situation was.

  I’m speaking to you, Claire. I am a mother. Mother to mother, Claire, give me back my son or I swear to God I will destroy you.

  Give him back? I was astonished. Woman, you kicked him out!

  I turned to Kyle—She kicked you out!

  More or less.

  More or less?

  Not sleeping, not eating, Brenda continued. Calling every one of his friends and banging on their doors and posting messages on Facebook and calling the police and all along you’ve been keeping him here locked up, hostage. Hey? This is a hostage taking. You have kidnapped my boy, an underaged boy. I want you to think about how that’s going to go down when I haul your asses before a court, yeah?

  All the while, I was looking at Kyle trying to decipher what he meant by ‘more or less.’

  We had a fight and I left, he explained.

  You ran away, I said, walking towards him.

  I had to.

  You told me she kicked you out.

  She was trying to stop me from seeing you.

  I could have shaken him—You’ve been lying to her
all this time.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Yes it does, actually, I said, livid. Of course it does.

  Brenda rang the doorbell again—Kyle? Buddy? Don’t do this to me. I love you, buddy, you know that, and you know I don’t want you getting mixed up with the wrong kind of people. These people are not good people. They’re not normal people—

  Shawn snorted—Show me someone who is, lady.

  They don’t know you, Kyle, Brenda continued, shouting. And they don’t have your best interests at heart, okay? They’re scared and messed up insecure people who want something from you, okay? You gotta trust me on this, I’ve been around, I know all about these kinds of people. They seem real nice and sweet and they tell you you’re special but they’re sick in the head and they drag you down and take and take and take from you, Kyle. Kyle? I know you can hear me. Come to the window if you can hear me—

  All the while, as Brenda monologued to the front door, Kyle remained defiant, telling me he was seventeen, and could leave home if he wanted.

  She’s your legal guardian, I said fuming, pointing towards the front door.

  Doesn’t matter, he’s over sixteen, Howard said.

  We’re his guardians too, Damian said.

  Yeah, tell that to a court, I replied.

  I glared at Kyle and told him he needed to speak to her.

  I have nothing to say.

  Kyle—

  Just then my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was Ashley calling. I moved across the living room to a quiet corner to answer it—Ash?

  Why haven’t you been picking up?

  I’m sorry, everything’s been so—

  I’ve been telling Dad that he has to stop this but he keeps saying ‘They have her son.’ And what am I supposed to say to that? How can I argue?

  Ash—

  No listen, Mom. I need you to listen to me. I told Dad that you guys all just want to be left alone.

  Yes.

  And he says he has, he left, he left you alone and look where that’s gotten us. A child has been kidnapped.

  That’s—

  —bullshit, I know, but what does this look like on the outside? I told him, Dad, they’re just listening. That’s all they’re doing, they’re doing their listening thing. And he said, Ash, the curtains are drawn and it’s the middle of the day. Can you imagine your mother—? Like, you don’t even sleep with the curtains drawn at night! He said you’re not yourself, you’re not in control. And I said, yeah well neither are you, Dad, and neither is fucking Brenda Francis. He said this wasn’t going to be a scene. He promised. We were supposed to have a cup of coffee at her house, to talk to her about the situation and help her find Kyle, that was it, and then she forced us to come over to your place because we thought you two might be there, and then when you weren’t—She’s had her hand up his ass puppeting him all morning.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall—Put your father on.

  Do you love him?

  What?

  Do you still love him, do you love Dad?

  Of course I do.

  Then finish this.

  Just put him on.

  And what about me?

  Ash. You know I do.

  Then come out. Now, with Kyle. And we can all go home.

  I told her I couldn’t. She said that, if I didn’t, Brenda would call the police.

  Ash, I need you to listen to me very carefully, you cannot let Brenda call the police. Do you have any idea what that would mean for me?

  She didn’t answer.

  Do you? Hello?

  I’m fucking scared, she said, her voice small and pinched.

  Then stop. Then go home.

  Me? You’re telling me to—You’ve locked yourself in a house with a bunch of lunatics with the curtains drawn, and you’re telling me to stop?

  Do not—these people are family to me.

  Family? What are you fucking talking about?

  You have no idea what we have been through, Ash.

  Mom, I’m your family. Dad is your family.

  I can’t believe you showing up with Brenda, who ruined everything for me, who you, you brought into all of this in the first place with your goddamn texts, do you know how humiliating it is—

  Oh wow, yeah, bring that up again.

  —to look outside and see you and your father standing out there with her? The betrayal of that? You’ve thrown me under the bus, Ash.

  What are you even fucking—? We love you. And we’re fucking scared for you.

  You’ve made this situation so much worse.

  You, Mom, you made this situation. I mean what is worth this? How can this possibly be worth it?

  I have felt it.

  Felt what?

  I tried to explain the bliss, the purity of experience we had accessed, a wholeness, an interconnectedness surpassing human understanding, beyond flesh, beyond orgasm, beyond spirit.

  Orgasm? She balked.

  A pleasure beyond the body, Ash. Something so completely unbounded, why’re you crying? Don’t you hear what I’m saying? We have unlocked the secret of The Hum.

  Sex?

  What?

  Through sex?

  No. No, through the sound of the Earth itself.

  I can’t—Stop. I can’t hear this.

  And we’re at peace.

  Mom, listen—

  A true liberated peace.

  This is killing me, she said, and then screamed into the phone—You’re killing me.

  Ashley really laid me on the plinth and ripped out my heart with that one. Were there any worse words a child could scream at her mother? I scrunched my face, against tears—Please don’t say that.

  If you love me then you’ll walk out that fucking door now.

  I told her that I couldn’t.

  Then you don’t.

  Ash—

  You don’t.

  I love you more than anything in—

  No, not enough. Not fucking—

  And then the line went dead.

  Ash? Ashley?

  I crossed the room to the window, and peered out through the curtains. I could see Ashley’s phone smashed on the asphalt by her feet. She was arguing with Paul once more, and Brenda was walking back over to them across the front yard. I watched for a while as the three of them conferred. Brenda was incensed, gesticulating wildly towards the house, and it seemed Paul was doing his best to de-escalate the situation. Ashley threw up her hands, crossed around to the passenger side of the car, and got in. I could hear the muffled slam of her door from inside the house. She sat and waited with her arms folded, but it didn’t look like Brenda or Paul were prepared to leave anytime soon, least of all Brenda. I turned back into the room, to the worried and expectant faces of the group, and told them—I think we might be in this for a while.

  And sure enough, within an hour, the police arrived.

  17

  I NEED TO MAKE CLEAR THAT I NEVER CHOSE THE GROUP over Ashley or Paul. I have found accusations of this nature completely debilitating. I never fail to be amazed by how many opinions strangers or pundits have about the kind of mother I am or was. Literally fuck off. I would have crawled across a desert for Ashley. So why didn’t I come running out of the house when she called? Don’t think I haven’t racked my brain over that same question. The thing is, without the support of the group, I would have quite simply lost my mind. There would have been no one for Ashley to call a mother, or for Paul to call a wife. I also can’t overemphasize how responsible I felt for Kyle, who, despite his air of assuredness, was really so vulnerable. I was also operating on months of sleep deprivation at this point and feeling even more light-headed, and almost dissociative since the tunings. When people ask me if I regret that decision, or any decision I made later that night, I tell them that’s not a productive question. I can’t let myself sink into the mire of that kind of thinking.

  By the time night fell, a small clutch of concerned nei
ghbours had gathered, along with at least one local news van. Brenda was still out there with Paul, though I couldn’t see Ashley. The police lights strobed through the blinds, bathing the living room in blue and red. At one point, an officer came to the door. Howard and the officer had a brief exchange, which I didn’t catch all of, but it seemed to be about Kyle. Howard wouldn’t let the officer enter, citing the lack of a warrant, but as Howard said this, the officer tried to force his way inside and Howard had to push the door closed on him. Everyone was shaken, and argued for a while about how to prevent the situation escalating any further.

  To calm our nerves, Jo kept the indoor lighting dim and soft and played some ambient world music, the kind you might expect to hear in a yoga class or a spa. She prepared some lentil soup for us, which we slurped from bowls balanced on our laps, while sitting around the living room. Nora sat in an armchair, eyes closed, praying bilingually under her breath. She reminded me of a pigeon perched on a ledge, huddled against the rain. At some point, Damian got up to investigate the backyard, I suppose to assess whether we were being surrounded.

  Kyle and I sat together on the couch, a little removed from the others. My stomach was in knots and I was letting out little stress farts, which Kyle had the grace not to remark on. Instead, he asked me how I was holding up. Not so hot, I told him. He said I looked ghostly, and in truth, that’s how I felt. Everything felt—thin. It was the only word I could think to describe it. My skin. My breath. My grip on reality.

  The Hum feels so intense now, I told him. Ever since the other night, in the park—

  What happened the other night was good, he insisted. Please don’t regret it.

  I told him that I didn’t.

  It’s just that every time we tune, I said, I find it harder and harder to return. Like I feel like if I do it again I might just slip right in, and never come out.

  What do you mean ‘never come out’?

  Just—lost in it forever.

  I could tell I was unsettling him, and I felt guilty. In the midst of all this, he didn’t need me spiralling out. But ever since the other night, it was as though I had been shifted off my foundations. Maybe we had gone too deep. Or maybe we had done it wrong. We should never have tuned alone.