“Yeah, they have a shot,” Sully replied.
For a while, neither of them made a sound. Sully thought of the phone call the day before. He had always considered his dad a good, but predictable man. Now he had shown two unpredictable acts almost within twenty-four hours of each other.
Then the next. It was just a little while after the kickoff, when his dad began to laugh. At first, it was just a short spurt. Then there was another about two minutes later. Then there was a third. Then the fourth time it started up, it didn’t stop for a while. After about a minute of it, Sully looked and saw the tears coming down his dad’s face.
Sully quickly looked away. He thought he should probably say something. He couldn’t, though. It was too awkward. He had never seen his old man cry before. And what a first time this was, laughing and crying at the same time, like a mad man.
The laughter finally stopped. That made things worse. It was an opening, a time where something could be said, maybe should be said.
Sully hated himself. He hated himself for the way he felt. Something was not right with his dad, and all Sully wanted was to leave, to be out of the awkward situation.
Finally, his old man spoke. “Sully?” his dad said in soft, slightly croaky, voice.
“Yeah, dad,” Sully returned, without looking at him.
His dad sucked in a hard breath and then asked, “You know what your mother thinks? I mean, you know what she thinks about how I reacted to your coma?”
His mother had never said as much, but she had still managed to make herself clear.
“Yeah, Dad. I know.”
Again, his dad laughed, like a madman, like a drunken madman, but this time it was mixed with sobs. When he finally stopped, his dad said, “Well, it isn’t true what she thinks. It wasn’t like that at all.”
“I know, Dad,” Sully said. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same thing had I been in your place.”
For a few seconds, that was all. Then his dad laughed some more. “Okay, Son,” he finally said. Then he got up and left into the bathroom. He came out a few minutes later, looking and sounding somewhat more together.
And for the rest of the time Sully was there, the conversation was only about football.
Chapter Five
The new year came, and the weeks passed. Anna became extremely involved in her book. She was the perfect contrast to herself. One minute, she seemed loose and smooth, effortlessly hammering away at the keys, leaving no time for second guessing the words she made. The next minute, she was growling at her computer screen, proclaiming that she would have to delete the last ten or fifteen pages, because they weren’t quite right. Sully had never seen her work this hard before. That made him all the more sure the book would be incredible. He couldn’t wait for her to set it in front of him.
It was a fun time of year for him at the high school. The freshmen were really starting to come around, to see what they were capable of when they understood how their minds liked to work. More and more, they were pushing themselves instead of being pushed by him. Responses started trickling in from a few colleges and some seniors were already receiving scholarship offers. But Sully knew it would be early spring before most of the decisions were made. A big part of his job became helping the most serious students cope with the anxiety of waiting to hear back from the various schools they had applied to.
All the while, Sully tried not to think about the decisions he had to make. From time to time, he indulged himself in a fantasy world, where he lived and relived January and February over and over again, never having to come to March, never having to know if the omen were true. But the last week in February came, and Sully had to face it. His fantasy would not come true. Monica was scheduled to leave again in one week. And nobody knew his dilemma.
He couldn’t go. He couldn’t go because a part of him was certain that the omen was true. If he got in the car and traveled across the state, he and his daughter would not arrive at their destination, and his daughter would not return home ever again. But how could he not go? Would not going be accepting a world of madness? Would such an act of acceptance allow madness a firmer grip? Could he give in, and let imaginary things run his life?
It was the Wednesday of February’s last week when the dilemma was solved for him. Sully had just come home from school to find the large stack of papers on the kitchen table. He found Anna in the bedroom. She was wearing a black teddy. In each hand she held a glass of champagne.
“I took Monica to your mom. I thought we could celebrate.”
Sully smiled. “You finished your book.”
Anna nodded and pushed a glass toward him. Sully reached out and took it as he got into bed with her.
“Oh no,” Anna said matter-of-factly. “You have far too much clothing on for the celebration I have in mind.”
Sully got out of bed. He looked for somewhere to set the glass.
Anna laughed and then said, “Here, Silly,” extending her glass in front of her.
Sully clanked his glass against hers. Then he downed the champagne, barely able to restrain a sneeze as it tickled his nose. He then began to undress.
Suddenly, he had an idea. It had all just fallen into place.
“You know, babe. I want to read it right away.”
Anna nodded.
“But I want to read it straight through, without interruption.”
“Okay. And that’s how I want you to read it,” Anna said.
“Well, I can’t read it like that during the week, with all my school stuff.”
Sully had planned on asking her. But Anna beat him to it.
“I could go this weekend,” she said excitedly. “And you could stay and read my book.”
Sully finished undressing and got in bed with her. “Great idea.” He kissed her, and there would be no more words for a while.
Afterward, Sully lay there in bed and reflected. He felt a sense of relief sweep over him. He wasn’t sure who would go pick up Monica the following week. But at least he had bought himself that much more time. And, in the vision, he had been taking Monica when it happened, not bringing her back. He wasn’t sure if that was the way it worked, like some court case, where a simple technicality could save someone from a terrible fate. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything to have worried about in the first place. He ignored the fact that he was giving in, that he might be accepting something he should fight against. For now, he just let himself feel better.
#
Anna left Friday afternoon. She said she wouldn’t be back until late Saturday. She could have planned to be back earlier, but she wanted him to have the extra time with the book, without her creeping around the house waiting for him to get done, creating a sense of urgency that wouldn’t be there for the readers whom purchased the book.
“Don’t force yourself to go on, just on my account,” Anna had said. “Read it like you would any fiction book. If it bores you, put it down.”
But it didn’t bore him at all. He picked it up around four o’clock and was hooked within the first three pages. It ceased to be a story that his girlfriend had written, and it became a story that he was absorbed into. He thought only about the characters and their lives, and forgot about the author.
Sully had been worried to put the two of them out on the road. He thought it only natural that he would be wary, even minus the horrifying trips he had made. Placing his two favorite people in a fast-moving, metal beast, out on a road full of strangers and other metal beasts, was scary.
But his fear didn’t last. He simply forgot about it. He forgot about his usual world completely. The book was just that good.
It was about seven o’clock, the single pile having become two piles of pages, the read and to be read, when the phone rang. Sully’s initial reaction was to ignore that phone. He could let the answering machine get it, and all the while stay in this fascinating place. But reality would not let him ignore that phone. Great book or not, his girls were still out there, and he though
t it might be Anna calling.
Sully left the story and picked up the portable unit. “Hello,” he said after bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Sully,” his dad said.
“Yeah, Dad,” Sully said, a bit abruptly.
“Girls make it out okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Well good. Are you busy?”
Tremendously, Sully thought. But he couldn’t do that to the old man. “Well, I’m reading Anna’s book.”
“Oh. Is it good?”
“Outstanding,” Sully replied. He became aware that he had just complimented Anna’s book in an automatic way. How was my test, Mr. Jacobson? Outstanding, Tommy. He hoped his dad didn’t sense that he was trying to be concise to speed along the conversation.
“Good,” his dad said. “Do you think you can take a break from it?”
A break? No, he didn’t really want to take a break. He had actually thought of reading straight through the night, stopping only to pee and make coffee.
“I guess I could,” Sully said.
“Great. I have something kind of important that I want to discuss with you, Son.”
There it was again, that timidity in his old man’s voice, just like when he called to tell about the tanker explosion. Sully was suddenly torn. Two worlds were pulling at his curiosity now.
“All right, Dad. I’ll come right over.”
“No, Sully,” his dad said and then laughed nervously. “Why don’t you meet me up at the bar. We’ll talk over a couple of beers.”
#
There was one bar in Little Axe. It was right downtown, on the same block as the little post office and police building. The place was called Ledbetter’s, after its owner, Sonnie Ledbetter. It catered to the farmer crowd. Old men showed up to play dominoes and drink beer all day long. There wasn’t much of a younger crowd, at least of drinking age, in Little Axe. Many were off in college or had otherwise left the area. Sully took pride in the fact that he had had a lot to do with the college part. He had proudly helped to drain the town of its young adult crowd.
They met outside the bar and went inside without exchanging more than casual nods.
On Friday night, the bar was fairly dead. A few old men sat at the bar and shot the shit with Sonnie. A few guys about Sully’s age were shooting pool in the back. They all knew Sully from high school and stopped to say hello, before going back to their game. After getting a pitcher of beer, his dad found them a booth, right in the middle of the bar, away from everybody.
They sipped at the beer for a little while, shooting the breeze about school and the government, listening to the old country music coming through the jukebox. Sully quickly realized that his dad wasn't eager to get drunk tonight, Sully finishing his first beer before the old man. He was glad. He didn’t want a repeat of the day his dad had become crazy, especially not in a public place.
With half a mug of beer left, his dad’s face grew serious. He sighed and then said, “You know, a couple of months ago, I wanted to tell you what I’m going to tell you now. I started to but just couldn’t work up the nerve. It’s not easy to talk about this sort of thing.”
“Okay,” Sully said, again thinking back to the day his dad had been drunk.
His dad looked off, like he was reading what he had to say off the wall of that bar room. “I guess, in a lot of ways, I must have looked heartless when you were in the hospital. I guess I didn’t act sad enough.”
That sounded cold to Sully, and it didn’t sound like his dad. Why would he have to act sad? If his child, Monica, were dying, he wouldn’t have to act sad?
“Not long after they took you into the hospital, the doctors came and told us about your condition. A few days later, Faith left town, leaving us to make decisions on your behalf. So we had to decide how long to keep you on the life support. Well, of course, your mom was willing to keep you hooked up to those machines forever.” He shook his head. “Truth is, given the knowledge she had, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have kept you on the machines too.”
His dad’s smile changed. It was almost mischievous. “But given the knowledge that I had, every day you were on those machines was like another knife in my side.”
The old man looked right at Sully, a question on his face. It was almost as if he expected Sully to see what he was getting at. But Sully had no idea.
His dad finally looked away and then said, “I held out for a few more weeks, just to humor your mother. Then, knowing there was no way I was going to change her mind, I talked the doctors into saying that her emotional condition at the time made her unfit to make decisions on your behalf. Then I signed off on the papers alone, and they cut the life support.” He laughed, not crazy, but like he was amazed by his own words. “Me and your mom sat with you. She held your hand, cursing me all the while, and I stood and watched. And, Son, you may not believe this, but I knew exactly what would happen.”
Sully couldn’t help but wonder, sitting there in the bar, listening to his dad’s spiel, if this man had gone crazy. Maybe it was the guilt. He had pulled the plug and been wrong. Maybe this was his way of justifying it in his own mind.
“We watched you die, Sully. We watched as you faded away. It didn’t take ten minutes after they pulled off the support. You were as dead as could be.”
His dad slammed a fist down on the table, so loud that he actually caused heads to turn at the bar. Sully watched those same heads turn back around, smiling, just a little surprised at the noise. But Horace Jacobson was oblivious to them.
“Then we watched you come back alive, Sully, just as I knew you would.”
For a few seconds, he looked at his father and his father looked back at him, a triumphant look on his face, like he, himself, had been the one to revive Sully.
Finally, his father spoke again. “Do you wonder, Son? Do you wonder how I knew you’d come back?”
All Sully could do was nod. This was almost as awkward as seeing his father cry. But it was also a fascinating little tale.
“Because it wasn’t the first time.”
His dad laughed, loudly. Heads turned again.
“Hey! Keep it down over there,” someone said playfully from the bar.
“Because it wasn’t the first time,” his dad repeated, this time quietly.
Sully looked at the old man in awe. Yes, it sounded insane. But his dad? He wasn’t the type, was he? Did men like his dad go crazy over things like guilt?
His dad calmed down a bit. He took a big drink of beer before he started again. “You were just four years old when it happened. You were smart for your age. I guess that’s why I thought it was okay to leave you alone like I did.”
Sully’s mind flashed back. He immediately knew the day his dad was talking about. “No, Dad. I remember. It was just a nick. No big deal.”
His dad smiled. “Yeah, I suppose that’s how you would remember it. That’s what I told your mom. And that’s the story you heard growing up. But I’m telling you, adults do a funny thing to a child’s memory. They tell them things in a way different than they really happened. Kids hear the lies so many times that they start to believe what they’re told. They can even come to remember things in that way. And I’m sure that’s what happened to you. But I’m telling you now, I was there. I saw the aftermath of what happened, and it was no nick.”
The image of what happened was strong in Sully’s head. He didn’t know if he could believe that image wasn’t real. But he would hear the old man out.
“It was a Wednesday night, so your mom was off to church. I had you in the backyard, playing. The phone rang from inside. I actually thought about it. I shouldn’t leave him alone out here, I thought. But I did anyway.” He stopped for a second and then said, “I wouldn’t leave you like that again, not till you were way older. Even now, when short britches wants to go out, I’ll just stop what I’m doing and go with her. And the farm ain’t near as dangerous a place as it was back then.”
Sully smirked. His dad was
understating his protectiveness of Monica. The old man was reluctant to let her play in her bedroom by herself.
“But on that day, I went in and got the phone. It’s the one thing that slips my mind, looking back on it. I don’t even remember who it was.”
Sully thought he knew why his dad couldn’t remember who was on the phone. It was because there had been no phone call. At least, there had been no phone call that Sully could remember. His dad had been there, in the yard with him. Sully had darted out into the field.
“Whoever I was talking to, I hung up when I heard the commotion outside. It was the cattle. You know the sound they make, like when there’s a snake.”
“Yeah, Dad. I know how they do,” Sully said, the familiar sound in his head: a higher pitched tone than cows usually make.
“Well, I heard them. But I never heard you. I came rushing out the back door. I looked over to the sandbox, where you’d been playing. I saw you was gone and knew it was no snake that spooked them cattle. It was the most excruciating thing I'd ever felt. Cause I knew exactly what had happened. I could picture it in my head as if I saw it.”
Sully remembered the vision of Monica on the road. It wasn’t hard to imagine the feelings his father was describing. But was his Dad’s story real? Or could it have been like what Sully had gone through? Just a vision? This is what could happen. Or maybe his dad had gone a little crazy then, and Sully was going a little crazy now.
“It was in the back field, right along the backyard. Those cows were just standing there, looking at me. It was almost as if they knew one of them had done a terrible thing. And there you were, lying on the ground among them. I jumped the fence. The cows didn’t act like they normally would, to see me come rushing like that. They just kind of moved out of my way. Then they still didn’t take off. They just stood there and watched the show, like people might if they came upon a car accident.”
Sully pictured a bunch of cows standing around, stunned looks on their faces, but all the while thinking they couldn’t wait to tell their friends about this later.
Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner Page 23
