“Rattlesnakes can live twenty-five years,” William responded. He’d gone through a snake phase right after his dinosaur phase, Jennifer hoping he’d become interested in golden retrievers or gerbils next, anything less lethal.
“Is that so?” Hanna said.
“But not if you kill and eat them,” William said.
“Well,” Hanna said, “next snake I find, I’ll find out their age first.” She turned to Jennifer. “Will this work for you?” Hanna asked.
“This will be great,” Jennifer said.
“Got the call from your mother-in-law, so you’re all settled up,” Hanna said. She pulled back the covers on both beds. Fluffed the pillows. “Do you need help with your bags? My brother Dale will be back in just a bit and can drag them up for you.”
“No,” Jennifer said. “We’re good. Traveling light.”
“What about you?” Hanna asked William. He was standing in the doorway, hadn’t crossed one step into the room.
“Is this room haunted?” he asked.
“William!” Jennifer said. “Apologize.”
“No, no,” Hanna said, “it’s fine.” She gave Jennifer a little smile. “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“There’s a girl sitting on the bed,” William said.
Jennifer and Hanna shared a look. Kids. But Jennifer’s look also meant to convey: Help me. But Hanna didn’t see that, Jennifer supposed, because how could she know anything about their life?
“She’s very nice, I promise,” Hanna said. She turned to Jennifer. “Do you want another room?”
“No, no,” Jennifer said, “of course not. My son’s imagination is enormous.”
“I’m not imagining anything,” William said. “She seemed happy.” He walked in, plopped down on the bed. “She’s gone now.”
IT WAS THE WORD SEEMED THAT KEPT JENNIFER UP ALL THAT NIGHT, NODDING off only for a few moments at a time, because the fact was that William was scaring the living shit out of her.
You’re being crazy, she kept telling herself.
What if William walked downstairs, turned on all the gas, and blew this whole building apart?
Stop.
It was the kind of thinking that cycled through her brain at 3:30 a.m., worrying about everything they’d been through and its effect on her young son, but by the time the sun was up she needed to get out of bed. Even if the day was going to be a shitstorm. She hadn’t seen Sal’s mother in years, hadn’t talked to her in longer, even if she did try to send photos of William when Sal wasn’t paying attention.
On the phone yesterday, Arlene was calmer than Jennifer imagined she would be.
“Well,” she said to Jennifer, “I guess I always knew this day would come. Is William safe?”
“Yes,” Jennifer said. “He’s not fine, though. Neither one of us is. It’s a very confusing time, Mom.”
“Mom,” Arlene repeated. “I haven’t been called that in so long.”
“Do you want me to call you Arlene?”
“No, of course not.” She cleared her throat. “Tell me what needs to be done.” Jennifer gave her the B and B’s information, asked her to cover the bill for the night, and Arlene agreed. “I should tell you, my husband passed,” Arlene said.
“Oh no,” Jennifer said. “When?”
“Two years ago. Hung himself.”
“My god, why?”
“He took that answer with him,” she said. “I’ve been thinking of moving into one of those assisted living facilities. One where they cook and clean for you. How bad could that be? Be like a cruise ship, wouldn’t it? Maybe I could find a new husband who could outlive me for once.”
Jennifer didn’t have the heart to confess she couldn’t remember the man’s name. When did she forget? She’d known it for twenty years and now it was gone, replaced with data about reality television and the terminal velocity of falling bodies, perhaps. The last time Jennifer saw Arlene was in a Target in Chicago, after she’d come back to town to sell her house, and since then she’d just been an address, a phone number, the notion of a lifeline.
“I appreciate your help, Mom,” Jennifer opted to say. “We’ll figure it out when we see you.”
They both hung up without saying goodbye, as if they knew there was nothing good about this situation at all, not even the leaving.
Jennifer crept over to the window and looked out at the rising sun—a sliver of gold to the east—and then down at the garden. She found Hanna out there, sitting in an Adirondack chair beneath a tree, sipping what looked like a hot cup of coffee or tea, the steam rising from it in the cool morning air, and reading the morning paper.
And then a thought: Could she just walk away from her life? Could she sneak out the back, get into the car, and instead of driving to Sedona just keep going, hit the Mexican border, disappear into a new life? Wouldn’t William be better off? Wouldn’t his chances of a normal life increase?
Sal had done that. Was his life better? How could it be worse? Wherever he was, he was living, which was different from what Jennifer and William were doing, all this time. They were surviving and barely holding on at that.
Jennifer took a knee beside William’s bed, brushed his bangs from his forehead so she could see his face. His eyes fluttered open. “Go back to sleep,” Jennifer said.
“Don’t let them take me,” he said.
“I’d never let anyone take you,” she said.
