Alex (21 page)

Alex wants to show you more,
Alex Is Haunting You argued.
 
There's something about Eston that he wants you to know.
 
Maybe some kind of clue about Kelly that you haven't seen yet.

You're Fucking Crazy mounted a strong defense.
 
You had it figured out downstairs the other night.
  
You're making the hallucinations more elaborate and more horrible as a way to make sure you don't escape them.
 
Your own brain won't let you put this behind you.
 

If that's true, a little therapy will take care of it, or you can work the issues out in time.
 
But if Alex is trying to tell you something, don't you need to hear it?
 

Ian shook his head.
 
He didn't care about the underlying motivations.
 
He wanted to know what the new appearances
meant.
 

They mean your illness has advanced,
You're Fucking Crazy asserted.
 
Eston is a powerful symbol for you.
 
If you continue to treat him like he's real you'll eventually do something stupid and possibly dangerous trying to hurt him.

Alex Is Haunting You scoffed.
 
It means there's something you missed, something critical.
 
Even if my colleague is correct, even if it's all in your head, that doesn't mean you have nothing to learn from it.
 
It could still be your own mind trying to work through some kind of unprocessed clue.
 
Either way, you need to pay attention.

But Crazy wasn't having it.
 
If that were true, therapy could help you figure out those clues just as well.
 
Better, even.
 
And without the risk of dissolving completely into some fantasy realm where your son is still alive and you have the power to kill his attacker.
 
If you -

Haunting cut him off.
 
Without
risk
?
 
You promised Alex that you would always be there for him.
 
Think of what he's done, the barriers he's broken, to reach out to you.
 
If he's somehow found a way to call to his Daddy even after he died, wouldn't the greater risk be to ignore that call?
 

Ian remembered Alex saying,
"I'll just call for you."
 
What if he hadn't meant it as a recrimination?
 
What if he was trying to explain why he was appearing?

Jesus, what if he had meant he was calling
now?

It was Crazy's turn to scoff.
 
Everything he says can be interpreted that way.
 
Of course it can, it's your own brain creating his dialogue.
 
That's why it's never anything new.
 
Your mind is just replaying scenes from when he was alive.
 
It lacks the courage to create something new.
 
And it even
punishes
you for failing to play along.
 
These are warning signs, Ian.
 

Spoken like a true fatalist,
Haunting rejoined.
 
But what if it's the other way around: what if Alex is simply restricted to showing you pieces of his life?
 
"More things in heaven and earth."
 
You don't understand the rules here.
 
That doesn't mean you can afford to ignore what's actually happening.
 

The oven buzzed, signaling that it was done pre-heating, and Ian gave a start.
 
He still hadn't found the pizza cutter.
 
He'd been staring into the sink for the last ten minutes.

84

"Brutus!" a voice crackled from the computer speaker.
 
"Good to see you again, man!
 
How have you been holding up?"
 
It was EpicGodwin, a mage who raided with Derek often but hadn't been around last week when Ian played.
 

Ian pushed the left Ctrl button on his keyboard, activating his mic.
 
"Oh, you know.
 
Not easy.
 
Time helps.
 
But it's still not easy."

"Yeah, I can't even imagine.
 
I'm so sorry about what happened.
 
At least they caught the guy."

A lot of people said this.
 
Not just the
I can't imagine
part, but the
at least they caught the guy
part.
 
Like it fucking mattered that the guy had died.
 
Alex
had died.
 
That was the only part that mattered.

Ian stared at the fantasy characters milling about the bank of Brutus's digital home city, and fought to not say anything abrasive.
 
"Yeah," he finally answered.
 
"I would've preferred to get my son back alive.
 
But yeah."
 

Silence greeted this response.
 
In the chat window on-screen, someone said simply:
 

: (

Ian tried again to remember why he had decided to raid tonight.
 
Some kind of act of defiance against Eston?
 
He was reminded of a David Cross bit, something about people forging on with their irrelevant plans in the wake of 9/11, trying to make sure that the "terrorists didn't win."
 
Cross had made them out to be delusional morons.
 

Which is pretty much what I am.
 

He started to type out a whisper to Derek -
Sorry, this just isn't going to work for me tonight.
 
Sorry to leave you in a lurch. -
when Epic spoke again.

"Well, I'm glad you're here.
 
We missed you.
 
And doing something just for fun will help, I bet."

How badly could anyone he only associated with in a digital fantasy world really have missed him?
 
He bristled.
 
For a second.

Then he realized he didn't care.
 

"Yeah," he said into his mic.
 
"Thanks.
 
That's what I'm here for."
 
He hit Escape, cancelling the message to Derek, and settled stubbornly in to tank.

85

A red light pulsed on the side of his cell phone when he emerged from the basement three hours later, and he remembered suddenly that Shauna had called.
 

"Hi, Ian, this is Shauna Douglas returning your call.
 
I'm sorry to hear you're not sleeping well.
 
I'll sign your form if you like, but my guess is that you would need a doctor's signature.
 
You may want to check with your HR on that.
 
If that is what you need, I can certainly recommend some very good psychiatrists in this area.
 
If you're coming to the meeting Wednesday night, we can talk about it then.
 
Hopefully I'll see you then."
 
A heartbeat, then she added: "You would still be more than welcome."

He made a noise partway between a snort and a chuckle, and closed his phone.
 

Hopefully I'll see you then.

He hadn't even considered going back to the weekly sessions.
 
He'd been going for Alina, really, and there was no way she'd be there again this week.
 
Not after what he'd said to her, or her response later that night.
 

He felt a sudden lurch, as if he had just dropped ten feet.
 
He sat down hard on the couch.
 

Was it really over?
 
Was it... was that even possible?
 

The woman who had laughed at his sarcasm, who would sink into his arms when he embraced her from behind - the woman he could talk to for hours, into the night, even after ten years of marriage.

People said you had to work on a relationship to hold it together, and he and Alina had learned that was true.
 
But their relationship was founded on communication - it had started on the
phone
, for Christ's sake - and they had always been able to work everything out.
 
They'd been able to talk through anything.
 

He should be able to call her, and talk through this.
 
But he couldn't.
 
He ended up yelling, every time, and she was sick of it.
 
How many times had they gone down that road?
 
How many times had he made her think they would work it out, like they always used to, only to change the rules on her midstream and start blaming her, screaming at her, clamming up on her?
 
Of course she was done with him.

You used to be so strong.

People grew apart, sometimes.
 
That didn't happen to them.
 
He had forced them apart, because he was so goddamn
weak
that he couldn't move on.
 
He had forced her out, just to find air to breathe - but she still hadn't left him, not really.
 
She had called.
 
They had talked.
 
She tried for months to get him help.
 
Why?
 
Because she still loved him?
 
Because she learned she was pregnant?
 
Maybe both?
 

It didn't matter now.
 
He had fucked it up.

He didn't want to hurt her.
 
He missed her - ah, God, he missed her.
 
When he could quiet his thoughts enough to picture it, he could imagine the two of them recovering: wounded, yes, and more cautious - who wouldn't be, after what they had been through? - but still able to laugh, eventually.
 
Still able to whisper to each other in the dark at night, still able to be
them.
 

It dawned on him that he hadn't just pictured it.
 
He had
expected
it.
 
Taken it for granted.
 
They had survived so much: of course they would survive this.
 
And he'd forgotten that it wouldn't just happen.
 
It took
work.
 

He'd been waiting for her to save him.

He grabbed his phone, flipped it open -

I have to tell her this.
 
 

 
- ignored the voice saying it wouldn't matter, that it would sound just like everything else he had said to her -

1, SEND.

- determined to explain, to make her understand that he really did get it, that he really was still here.
 

"You have reached.
 
ALINUH.
 
COL-MES.
 
Leave your message after the tone."

BEEP.

He hesitated, unsure whether to leave a message or try back later, and had the revelation that she may never answer a call from him again.
 

"Alina, it's me.
 
I just..."
  
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice, and it helped a little.
 
"I just wanted to tell you that you're right.
 
I
have
left you alone.
 
I know.
 
I've been... well, an insufferable jackass, for one thing, but... I haven't been
working
on it.
 
On us.
 
On me.
 
I need to.
 
I know I do.
 
I've just..."

The backs of his eyes were burning.
 
He clenched his teeth, forced his voice level.
 

"I've been sitting here, all night, thinking about it, and I'm so sorry for how I've treated you.
 
You've been hurting as much as I have, and I've been acting like I'm the only one who..."

He waved it off.
 
He didn't want to go down that road.
 

"I just wanted to tell you that I understand that.
 
And I'm going to start working on it.
 
Right now.
 
I called Shauna, I'll still be going to the Wednesday sessions.
 
I know you probably won't be there.
 
But whether you are or not, I will, and I'm going to be asking her about seeing someone else, too, and doing whatever I need to in order -"

"
You have.
 
Ten.
 
Seconds to complete your message.
 
Begin at the tone."