She shot her hand up in the air and wagged her fingers at him. “Five minutes. I just need five more minutes to sit.”
“I’ll join you,” he said, and he sat on the opposite end of the couch. After a moment he said softly, “I liked this house.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said. “We didn’t have a choice.”
“I just wanted to say it out loud.”
“Fine. You said it. Now drop it.” Diane dug her fingers into her hair and pulled until she could feel her hair tugging at the roots.
“All of this used to be a lot more fun,” he said. “I’m exhausted, Di. I mean it.”
“Oh, you’re exhausted.” If she weren’t so tired, she would have slapped him right then. And she would have made it hurt, too.
He stood. She remained seated.
“I’ll make the coffee,” he said.
“Great,” she said.
As he turned to walk toward the kitchen, one of the boxes began to rock, ever so slightly, but they both saw it. And then they heard a muffled cry. Then, a call for help from their youngest child.
“Oh, my god, she’s in the box,” said Diane. “Jesus, get the scissors, get the scissors!”
Soon after that morning Professor Stoner started spending more time around the office, and less time at home. Everyone noticed, but no one said a thing.
“THERE’S SOMETHING I need to tell you,” said Maggie as they lay next to each other in bed, her leg strapped around his waist.
“You’re married,” said Robert.
“No.”
“You’ve got a disease.”
“No.”
“You hate your father.”
“Well, yes, that’s true, but shut up and listen.” She punched his shoulder. “I’m a sleepwalker. I have been since I was a little girl. You should know that. So if you wake up and I’m not around, it’s probably because I’m somewhere in the house. I’m much better now, but it still happens sometimes.”
“What makes you do it?” he said.
“I don’t know. I’ve been to a million doctors. The last one prescribed sleeping pills, so you can see how that’s going. I mean, like I’m going to take pills for the rest of my life?”
Robert made a sad face—exaggerated frown, wrinkled forehead, eyes squeezed close—and she hated him briefly, then beat the feeling down. If this is going to be the one I love, I better learn to love the sad face.
“But…I can tell you what I see when I do it. It’s kind of weird, though. I haven’t really told that many people.”
“Tell me,” said Robert. He was way too enthusiastic, she thought. She hoped she wouldn’t regret it, any of it.
Maggie took a deep breath. “I’m inside a long tunnel, and at the end is a door, and it’s sealed shut. Where I am isn’t so bad, but I know that on the other side is a wonderful place, the best place in the world. As I’ve gotten older, that place has changed, but I always have this feeling like, I have to get there. When I was a kid it was either heaven, the picture-book version of it with angels playing harps and clouds and blue skies, or a carnival, where all the rides were empty and I didn’t have to wait in any lines and there’s as much cotton candy as I want. Then as I got older it became an empty beach during the middle of a hot day, and there’s a cooler of everything I want, sandwiches and drinks and chips and, oddly, the most perfect apples in the world, red and juicy, and a beach towel and a radio and an umbrella, just like, the perfect setup for one person. Then it was a carnival again for a while, which was totally strange. I mean, my therapist loved that. And these days it’s a beautiful park, with kids playing soccer in a field nearby, and an ice-cream man, and a few dogs running around, and I would be walking to meet someone, though I don’t know who, if I could just get through that door. So I bang and pound on it, hoping someone will answer it, but no one ever does.” She sat up. “And then I wake up. And I’m somewhere in my house, usually the bathroom, but sometimes the kitchen.”
“Is it scary?” he said.
“No, it’s just frustrating. Because I can never get what I want even though I know it would be so good.”
“Well, you won’t be sleepwalking on my watch.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.” He didn’t let her go for the entire night. It felt a little uncomfortable, but eventually Maggie got used to it. She did try to get out of bed once, early in the morning, but Robert woke with her and said, “Wake up, Maggie. I’m right here,” while she struggled against him until finally they both closed their eyes again, and slept well into the afternoon.
Years ago, Alan was telling me a story about his mother and father and how they fell in love.
OH, ALAN! You of the warm, soft beard and gentle smile and ample cock. You who told me I had a great “tushie,” a word so foreign to a woman like me, who was raised by people who said they traded in God for academia. They were so cold, so cerebral, so not fun. Oh, Alan, I still burn with desire for you!