There was one image of a bed with covers kicked back, as if someone had just gotten up, the mattress ticking worn and stained, the blanket thin and gnawed on at the edges. I’d caught none of the dead in the frames. Then I reached the photograph I’d taken of William. He wore his corduroy jacket, his oxford shirt and sweater. I enlarged the negative and made the print, thinking the whole time that he may have surreptitiously taken one of me.
It was late afternoon. No one was around, and in the glow of the darkroom the image emerged clearly, eerily. He’d paused in the doorway, his expression filled with love and so unlike the memory of him I’d been entertaining that I felt disoriented. Who had I confronted in the asylum that day? I felt overwhelmed with guilt.
I debated destroying the print, and then Charles Wu came into the darkroom, and I shoved it into my bag. He gave me a little wave, a tentative smile, and peered over my shoulder at my contact sheets.
“You went to Buffalo State,” he said, surprised.
He took my contact sheets and peered at them. I felt my face flush with irritation. Now I couldn’t deny I’d been there.
“Yes, yes I did,” I said. “It was incredible.”
Charles Wu seemed pleased I’d taken his advice. He’d dyed the white stripe in his hair, and he wore a pair of pressed khakis, as if he’d decided to give in to his parents and accompany them to the country club. Would I need to start a list of all the people who could implicate me in William’s death?
“You didn’t have trouble getting in, did you?” he said. “These are really cool. I might have to go out there myself.”
Charles could be the one to find William’s body. That would be apt after William’s accusations.
“You should definitely go,” I said. “It’s easy to get in.”
Then I found myself telling him all about the loading dock and the hole that allowed access to the underground corridors. I told him about those tunnels and the route to take to arrive at the upper level.
“Did you find the staircase?” He was excited by my story.
“I did,” I said. “It was dark by then, though. I only got a few shots. I’m not sure how they turned out.”
Charles handed my contact sheets back. “Best to go early. That’s what I’ve heard.”
Although I’d never cared to read a newspaper, I’d begun buying the local paper, scanning it for a report about the discovery of a body in an asylum. Now, it seemed possible that any number of urban spelunkers, artists, or paranormal investigators might have visited Buffalo State and uncovered William’s body. If the roll of film he’d pocketed had come free during the fall, and landed below the balustrades in some hidden niche, if William hadn’t properly captured me in a photograph developed by forensic officers, he might become one of the thousands of unclaimed bodies in the United States, remains discovered without any identification and no one stepping forward for them. Maybe there would be a line drawing of his face in the record, a description of his clothes. Perhaps there would be a mention of the discovery of his body in the Buffalo news. In the old Buffalo State Asylum for the Insane, soon to be refurbished to house an outpatient hospital, he might become a ghost who haunted the rooms.
“Let me know if you decide to go,” I said.
“I will,” he said. He unloaded his backpack and slid strips of negatives out of their sleeves for the enlarger, as if sensing I was ready to leave. “We should totally have coffee one afternoon this week.”
My face felt odd, as if I weren’t used to conversing, and my muscles were underused. “I’d like that,” I said.
*
DEL CONTINUED TO spend time with Alice and the other Milton girls. I would hear her come and go, or hear Alice’s laughter downstairs. Sometimes, Del would invite me to go bowling with them at Viking Lanes, or snowmobiling in the fields around Milton, but I refused. I wasn’t sure what she was telling them all about William, and I wouldn’t know how to act. It was disorienting to have the apartment to myself—a constant reminder of him. We would have broken up eventually—I knew that now. My only question remained his obsession over the images.
I kept my distance from Geoff, too. It was March when he finally knocked and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t home. I opened the door to his familiar brown eyes, his crazed hair, Suzie thrusting her nose into my palm.
“Have you got some tea?” he said. “I’m parched.”
He tugged Suzie in on her leash and took a seat at the little table. I boiled water for a pot.
“So have you been licking your wounds?” he said, launching into his real reason for coming by.
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious old William has flown the coop,” he said, and pulled out his tobacco. “There’s no shame in admitting defeat. He was always a fickle sort.”
I poured the hot water in so the tea could steep and set the teapot in the center of the table. The apartment was still filled with William’s things, and Geoff took this in.
“I guessed you’d notice soon enough,” I said.
He gave me a sympathetic look. “At least you’ve managed to come out of it unscathed,” he said. “Count yourself lucky you aren’t in the same predicament as your sister.”