Pile of Bones

by Bailey Cunningham

  “A something does not have to be a game.”

  “But in this case, it is, right?”

  He took her hand. “You will love it.”

  “I think you’re overreaching.”

  “Mummy!”

  Carl got up from the couch. “What’s this game about?”

  Seeing his opportunity, Neil instantly changed sides. “It is a game about pigs who build things! Come see!”

  “You really don’t have to,” Ingrid said.

  “It’s no problem. I think I’ve absorbed enough Dinosaur Train for one morning.”

  “You’re very kind.” She turned to Neil. “Only five minutes, okay, bub? Then you have to release our guest from captivity.”

  He grabbed Carl’s hand, leading him down the hallway.

  “I can start on the dishes,” Ingrid said.

  Paul waved her off. “There’s a machine for that. Go hang out with your friends. We’ve still got a half hour before he needs to get ready for day care.”

  “He’s always late. I’m sure they talk about us.”

  “Is there some academic term for worrying too much about what other people think?”

  “Grad student.”

  “I’m sure he’s not missing much. Five minutes lost in the magic carpet. As long as his hair’s combed and he doesn’t have glitter glue on his face, I call that a win.”

  When Paul had first offered to move in, she was skeptical. He’d never been particularly good with kids. He didn’t seem to grasp how his schedule was going to change simply by getting caught in Neil’s orbit. In the end, though, it was Paul who turned out to be a natural at this. He cut away crusts and arranged vegetables into mock battles. When Neil resisted sleep with every fiber of his being, it was Paul who would hold him like a trembling sack of potatoes, rocking gently in the middle of the hallway. Even now, when he was deep in thought, he swayed on the balls of his feet without realizing it. The Dance of Nod, they’d called it. Paul’s transition to parenthood was seamless, while Ingrid still felt as if she were merging into that lane, completely blind.

  At first, it was awkward when people mistook Paul for her husband. He was six years her junior, and women would give her a sly look, as if to say, Nice work. Explaining their family grew tedious, and people were always asking questions. Do your parents help out? Does he ever get to see his dad? Neil would get frustrated by this line of inquiry. This is mine Mummy and this is mine Uncle Paul, he’d say, with an edge to his voice. People were usually charmed by that and dropped the matter.

  Ingrid took her plate into the living room. Shelby had finished the puzzle. Dinosaur Train was over, but neither of the guests was bold enough to start another program, so they just stared politely at the blank screen. She could faintly hear the sounds of the pig game. Neil could play it for hours, and she worried about how it might be affecting his concentration. He could cycle through menus so quickly now. She’d woken up the other day to find him surfing YouTube.

  Andrew stared into his coffee cup. He was distracted by his own thoughts, and Ingrid watched the cup tilt slightly, until he caught it with his other hand. She sat down next to him. The steam from their mugs twined in the air, like honeysuckle.

  “How do you feel?”

  He didn’t raise his eyes from the mug. “My lungs are sore. Whatever they gave me at the hospital must have quite the half-life, because I still feel out of ambit. Other than that, I’m okay. No permanent damage.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “I can’t believe I fell into the lake.”

  Don’t say freak accident. “Well—it could have happened to anyone.”

  “But I don’t like the water.”

  “It was the wine,” Shelby said quickly.

  “I had wine?”

  “A little.”

  “But I don’t drink.”

  She was trying to keep her expression neutral. “We were winding down—you know, from all the marking. Carl convinced you to have some. You know how persuasive he can be.”

  “That’s true.” He turned the mug in his hands. “I wish I could remember.”

  “It’s probably for the best that you can’t.”

  “I hate that I caused everyone so much trouble.”

  Ingrid tried to put a hand on his knee. He flinched. Unsure of what to do, she let her fingertips hover in empty space. It was the same way she used to pet her childhood cat, who was afraid of hands. You had to let her come to you.

  “It was no trouble,” she said. “We’re just glad that you’re all right.”

  “I had the strangest dream last night.”

  “Oh?” There was an odd note in Shelby’s voice. “What was it about?”

  He frowned. “I can only remember bits and pieces. There was this little boat, made of shells and seaweed. I think there was a castle, too. And something mechanical. I could hear it clicking against the floor. I think it was following me.”

  “Those hospital drugs will give you the sketchiest dreams.”

  “I suppose.” He got up. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course,” Ingrid said. “It’s down the hall, first door on the right.”

  “Thank you.” He walked slowly out of the living room. His steps were uneven, as if a part of him were still asleep.

  “Oh God.” Shelby rubbed her temples. “I can’t do this.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Ingrid said quietly. She cast a glance toward the kitchen. Paul was loading the dishwasher and didn’t seem to be listening. “The mind has ways of protecting itself, just like the park. Even if he remembers a bit more, it won’t make sense. All you can do is distract him from whatever pieces of knowledge are left.”

  “I’m a terrible liar.”

  “I don’t believe that. Only the best liars can play this game.”

  Shelby glanced at Paul for a second. Then her eyes widened. “He—”

  “Only the best,” she repeated. “That’s the price you pay. If you’re going to have two lives, one of them stays in the dark.”

  “We were so close to being a company,” Shelby murmured.

  “He may find his way back. You don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “But what are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “You cope. You manage his confusion. Ultimately, he trusts you. He won’t let go of that unless you give him a reason.”

  Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s just so fucking—”

  Someone screamed.

  It wasn’t Neil, but Ingrid still leapt up. She was the first one down the hallway. Carl emerged from the office, looking confused. Neil was right behind him, holding a red Angry Bird in front of him like a talisman. It must have been Andrew. Ingrid took a breath, then knocked gently on the bathroom door.

  “Is everything okay?”

  There was no response.

  “Andrew?” Carl stepped forward. “I’m coming in, all right?”

  He opened the door. Andrew was sitting on the rim of the claw-foot tub. He had his arms wrapped around his chest and was breathing heavily. The tap was still running. Carl turned it off, then drew a step closer to Andrew.

  “Hey. What’s going on?”

  “There was something in the tub.” He didn’t look up. His bare feet matched the white of the hexagonal tiles.

  “What kind of something?”

  “I don’t know. I only saw it for a second.”

  “Was it a house centipede?” Shelby asked from the doorway. “I’ve got a whole system that involves a jar and a piece of cardboard, if you want me to get rid of it.”

  “Not an insect,” Andrew said. “A girl.”

  Carl sat next to him on the rim of the tub. “You mean—a doll, or something?”

  “No. It looked like a girl. With seaweed in her hair.”

  Ingrid’s blood went cold.

  She’d heard of lares being seen beyond the park, but those were just stories. Only humans could cross over. Even if some small part of Roldan wa
s still alive in Andrew, how would he recognize a lar? He’d never seen one. They were only rustles and whispers to an auditor.

  “Look—” Carl’s smile was reassuring. “I think you’re overtired, and coming down from some serious drugs. Your mind’s running a bit hot. That’s all.”

  “It always runs hot.”

  “I know. Let’s cool it with the coffee for now. What you actually need is some sleep.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Sure. But once all that syrup-soaked bread does its work, you’ll be crashing with the rest of us. In the meantime, let’s get you away from the tub.”

  “You’re talking to me like I’m crazy. I’m not.”

  “I didn’t use that word. I just think you’re a little ragged from the stress of last night.”

  “Everyone’s thinking it,” he muttered.

  “You know,” Ingrid said, “when I first had Neil, I thought I might be going crazy. I’d wander around the house, trying not to cry or set fire to something. My brain felt like mashed potatoes. I walked into walls. Turns out, I was just sleep-deprived.”

  “Did you see things that weren’t there?”

  “All the time. Once, I thought the oven was criticizing me. Paul came home, and I was bawling in the kitchen, saying, ‘You don’t know me,’ to all of the appliances.”

  “I guess”—he rose slowly—“my mind could be playing tricks on me.”

  Neil handed him the red Angry Bird. “Keep him in your pocket,” he said. “This sweet one has no bubble.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go watch some more TV,” Carl said. “They’ve got so many cartoons. How would you feel about The Purple Crayon?”

  They made their way out of the bathroom. Ingrid and Shelby exchanged a look.

  “Did you really see things?”

  “I might have. I was half-crazy.”

  “Thanks for not—you know—”

  “What?”

  “Freaking him out more.”

  “I spend most of my time putting out little fires.” Ingrid lifted Neil into her arms. “How about we find you some pants?”

  “I want to wear my footie pajamas.”

  “Please. This is the one standard that we’ve been able to uphold. Wear the pants, and I’ll let you pick the shirt.”

  He wouldn’t stop moving as she tried to dress him. Ingrid surveyed his bedroom as she wrangled him into the pants. It looked as if the children’s section of the library had exploded. There were Magic School Bus and IQ. books everywhere. The walls were covered in space posters and volcanic diagrams. The dinosaur phase had passed, but the interstellar phase was still going strong. Ingrid wondered what would be next. She couldn’t imagine a night without cellophane and construction paper. When would he stop asking for bedtime stories? She’d always hoped that their nightly dialogue would continue long after he’d grown up. She could read to him over Skype, or whatever holographic technology existed by that point. “You’re doing it wrong,” he’d say, as she acted out Thing One and Thing Two. “You changed a word. Now we have to start from the beginning.”

  “What do you think you will be,” she asked, “when you grow up?”

  “Old,” he said, one arm in his shirt. “Like you and Uncle Paul.”

  “I guess I had that answer coming. Okay. Let’s brush your teeth. We have to get rid of all those sugar bugs.”

  “French toast does not make sugar bugs.”

  “What does it make?”

  “Antigravity.”

  “In your mouth?”

  “Isn’t that fun?”

  “We’re still brushing your teeth.”

  After rinsing and inspecting his mouth for antigravity, they returned to the living room. Paul had already packed his bag.

  “I’ll take him to day care,” he said.

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind driving.”

  “No. Stay with your friends. I’ve got some errands to run.”

  “You’re weirded out.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. I can tell.” She lowered her voice. “I know you weren’t expecting this. When you get home, I promise the house will be a drama-free zone. You can eat chips, watch Archer, then have a fierce nap.”

  “It’s really fine.” He took Neil’s hand. “Ready for day care?”

  “I want to stay here.”

  “There’s candy in the car.”

  He ran for the door.

  “Parenting,” Paul said. “We’re so on top of it.”

  “Don’t you have a kiss for your mummy?” Ingrid asked.

  He blew her one. “Good-bye!”

  “Have fun,” Paul said. “Relax. Remember how to do that?”

  “It’s all hazy. Like prom.”

  He opened the door and led Neil down the front steps. Ingrid watched them walk to the car. Neil was talking animatedly while Paul strapped him into the booster seat. He was probably listing the virtues of his birds. They are brave, and loyal, and real. She waited for them to drive away. Then she closed the door, feeling as if something had just floated away from her. Some brilliant kite with makeshift tail feathers, caught by a sudden gust of wind. For a moment, she wanted to run down the driveway. Come back. Stop all this leaving, this growing. Every time you come back to me, some precious little flake of you has changed.

  Ingrid walked back to the living room. “Shelby—can you help me with something in the office? My computer is being a dick.”

  Andrew’s expression brightened. “I can probably fix it.”

  “It’s like—a desktop issue—with the color palettes? I think it requires—”

  Shelby got up. “Don’t explain it. You’ll only entice him.”

  “I don’t mind—” Andrew began.

  “Stay on this couch until your atoms stop vibrating.”

  “Fine.”

  “There are more DVDs,” Ingrid said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “And lots of Star Wars Lego, if that’s your thing.”

  “Are you kidding?” Carl grinned. “That’s everybody’s thing.”

  Shelby followed her into the office.

  “Color palettes?”

  “I panicked.”

  “This is the opposite of subtle.”

  “I think we passed subtle when he saw an undina in my bathtub.”

  Shelby’s eyes widened. “You really think he saw one?”

  “It’s possible. I mean, the three of us can all use the park as a sort of viaduct between worlds. I don’t see why the lares couldn’t do the same thing.”

  “I thought they were connected to that place. That it was their chaos, or whatever. How could they survive here?”

  “Sometimes I’m not even sure how we survive here.”

  Shelby sat down in the office chair. “If he did see it—what would that mean?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  She spun the chair in a slow circle, the same way that Neil did when he was waiting for something to load. They were both silent for a beat.

  “I can’t believe how close he was,” Shelby said. “He walked right into the hospital room, and you were the only one who noticed.”

  “Not right away. It actually took me a while.”

  “He knows where Andrew lives. All of those forms—” Shelby shook her head. “We’re practically giving them an invitation.”

  “There must be rules,” Ingrid said, although she didn’t quite believe the words. “They can’t just attack us. Mardian has a job in this world. He has to keep his distance.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I don’t. Haven’t you figured out that I’m making this up as I go along? I saw the spado, and my gut said: Run. So here we are. I don’t have any more answers.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I’m just trying not to lose it.”

  Ingrid smiled. “Losing it isn’t so bad. Sometimes, it feels great.”

  “I’ll remember that advice when I’m doing my comps.”
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  “Don’t even think about those. You’ve got plenty of time.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Shelby sighed. “Neil must have made him come back for something. He always leaves the car running. I’ll be right back.”

  “I should come with you. It’ll look strange if I stay in the office.”

  “I don’t know. They seem pretty absorbed in their cartoons.”

  Ingrid walked down the hallway. Andrew looked as if he were about to nod off. Carl, however, was staring in the direction of the front door.

  “It’s just Paul,” she said. “Neil can be a pint-sized tyrant. He once made us come home three times, because he needed the right hat.”

  She opened the door, fully expecting to see her son, gesticulating about whatever crucial object he’d left behind. It wasn’t Neil, though.

  It was him.

  Her eyes widened. The last time she’d seen him outside Anfractus, he was naked and shivering in front of a gazebo. She remembered his dark hair, though, and the shallow track of his scar. He was wearing a long jacket and boots. He smiled, almost shyly.

  “Hello, Ingrid.”

  She stepped outside and closed the door behind them.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I should think it’s obvious.”

  “I told you to stay away.”

  “You need my help.”

  “I think you’ve done enough. We can take it from here.”

  “You’re being watched from all sides. And in case you’ve forgotten, I was the one who got you out of the city.”

  “Sure. You arrived just in time.”

  He stared at her. “What are you trying to suggest?”

  “Don’t play wounded meretrix with me. I’ve known you for too long. You always seem to choose the winning side.”

  “I’m here because I care about you.”

  “You’re here to protect your investment.”

  He started to say something, but stopped. They stared at each other. Ingrid was suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn’t put shoes on. Her feet were freezing.

  “How is he?”

  “The auditor? He’s dead.”

  “I meant—”

  “I know who you meant. We’re not talking about him.”

  He sighed. “It shouldn’t be this way.”

  “Oh no? What’s your alternative?”