David Gates - Preston Falls

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and deal some more. She has the mutinous thought that it can all just go to hell.

To atone for this, she calls home again.

The machine picks up, with the message she made Willis record so it would sound like there was a man in the house. "This is five five five, one five three six," he says. "You know what to do."

"Not really," she says. Then it beeps and she says, "Carol? Hmm, okay. Listen, I'm suddenly just totally exhausted" — this comes out of her mouth and suddenly she is just totally exhausted—"so I don't know if I should—"

"Jean?" Carol breaks in, and the phone starts squealing. "Wait— here, let me turn this thing off." Suddenly the connection is absolutely clear of noise. "Hi. Sorry. So you're going to stay over?"

"I don't know. The thought of that drive, you know? Maybe if I went to sleep now and got up really early — but that would mean you having to get the kids off to school."

"Like I've never gotten a kid off to school before."

"Oh, I know, but I hate to dump everything on you. And especially a Monday. You know what a pain they can be."

''These kids?" she says. ''Ho problem "

"Let me talk to Mel for a sec. Carol, you're sure this is okay?"

"Absolutely. Mel's right here. Mel, your mom wants to talk to you."

"Hi," Mel says. "Is Daddy there?"

"No, I guess I missed him." Think fast. "He said something about he might go over to see Nonnie before he came back home. So I expect that's where he is."

"So why can't you call him there?" says Mel.

"I did try calling there," Jean says. Digging herself in deeper. "They're probably out to dinner or something. I thought I'd try again a little later."

"When did Daddy say that?" says Mel.

"Say what, hon?"

"Say he was going to Nonnie's.''

"1 don't know — the last time we spoke?" Hard to imagine a worse way of handling this, but it seems to be the way she's handling it. Soon she's got to sit Mel and Roger down and tell them she doesn't know what to tell them.

Mel says nothing. Obviously not buying it but stumped for what to

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ask next. Now Jean will have to coach Carol in case Mel tries to get something out of her. She'll also have to try to reach Sylvia immediately, and somehow not scare the hell out of her in the process. Then again, maybe he is at his mother's.

"Listen, dear. I'm going to spend the night here and come down in the morning, and Aunt Carol's going to take care of you. So will you do me a favor and help out as much as you possibly can, especially in the morning? You know how slow Roger can be." Another of Jean's cheap little masterstrokes of motherhood; Roger's no worse than Mel.

"I guess so," Mel says.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie. I should be home in plenty of time for trick-or-treating."

"Mother, that doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters," says Jean. "Listen, is Roger there?"

"Yeah, he's here."

"Would you put him on, please? I love you."

"Love you too. Roger, Mom wants you."

"I know who it is," Jean hears him say. "I'm not stupid.'' The phone clunks down. Then Roger says, "What?"

"Hi, handsome," says Jean. Her new strategy is not to let him dictate the tone. "I was just telling Mel and Aunt Carol, I decided to stay over and come down in the morning. So I want you and Mel to be really good. Like, I want you to go right to bed when it's bedtime. And make sure you let Mel have enough time in the bathroom in the morning. Okay?",

"How come she can't use the downstairs?"

"Because Aunt Carol uses the downstairs," she says. "You know that."

"Yeah, but she gets it all to herself.''

"Enough," says Jean. If he says No fair, she's going to scream.

Roger says nothing. Jean decides to pretend this means he's knuckled under. "So Aunt Carol said you guys might rent a video?" she says.

"Yeah, we did, but it was stupid."

"What did you get?"

''Home Alone Two. I already saw it ten times. It sucks."

She's given up on sucks, though she still calls him on sucks the big one. "Well, maybe Aunt Carol would read more Lord of the Rings with you. In fact I know she would if you asked her nicely." It's the one thing he'll allow to be read to him anymore; Jean figures it's because of the

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sword-and-sorcery aspect. Which is in itself worrisome: next step is heavy metal — which he's already into anyway — then on to satanism. But at least it's a book. By an Englishman.

"She doesn't read it right," Roger says.

"That's very rude, Roger. And I hope Aunt Carol didn't hear you say that. It would hurt her feelings."

Silence.

"Is she right there? Did she hear what you said?"

"No," he says. Probably a lie.

"Still," says Jean. "Next time, think before you speak. And listen, don't forget — right to bed when Aunt Carol tells you. Sleep tight, and rU see you tomorrow. Hugs and kisses. Would you put Aunt Carol back on, please? Love you."

Silence.

"Hi," said Carol. "We're doing fine."

"He can be such a trial," says Jean.

"Honey, you're forgetting Dexter.'' Carol's son was hyperactive until he was ten, when she finally gave up her nothing-inorganic trip and put him on Ritalin; he's now at the University of Washington.

"Well, anyway, thank you. One more time. You know, I just feel like we've prevented you from having a life while you've been here."

"Don't be silly," says Carol. "As long as I've got strong fingers and my Alan Jackson tape with him on the motorcycle, I'm a fulfilled woman."

"They didn't hear that, right?"

"Look, I better let you go, so you can get some sleep."

"Yeah, I guess I should — oh crap, I almost forgot. I told Mel that Willis might be at his mother's."

"Right," says Carol. "Um. Do we have any reason to think that's the case?

"No. But I had to tell her something.''

"I see," says Carol. "Ah, any instructions?"

"Not really. God, I wish I'd kept my big mouth shut. I mean, if Mel wants to call there you obviously can't say no. But if you could just stall her for even like a minute after we hang up, I'm going to call Sylvia right now and forewarn her."

"That would be good."

"Except what do I say to her} Like, Don't have a heart attack but your son's missing?"

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"That would get your point across," says Carol.

"Crap," Jean says. "Okay, I'll call you later."

Sylvia's phone rings five times before a machine picks up. Willis? Oh, right: he once said he was going to record a thing for his mother too. "Please leave us a message after you hear the beep." So it's not true that Willis never follows through. She notes, however, that his own family didn't rate an us.

After the beep she says, "Hello, Syl. And Willis, if you're there. It's Jean. Ah, Sunday night? Syl, I was just wondering if you'd heard from Doug, because I was under the impression that he might possibly be stopping by your place before he comes back down to Chesterton, Anyhow, if that's the case, could you have him give me a call? I'm in, ah, Preston Falls right now, it's Sunday night — I guess I said that — and I'm heading back down Monday morning. Anyway, I hope you're well. Talk to you soon."

Was she casual enough? Upbeat enough? The woman is seventy-one years old, for God's sake. Not that seventy-one is old anymore, but even so. After a while she notices that music's still playing, and turns the boombox off. What relief, this silence. She takes another sip of the tea and Dewar's, then gets the bottle and pours in just a hair more. Whatever she told herself she was accomplishing by coming here, what she's really doing is taking a night off.

She gets up to go to the bathroom, opens the door, turns on the light — and there's a huge gaping hole in the floor. All the boards are gone between the sink and the bathtub, and cold dank air is coming up. One more project he started and didn't finish. It feels creepy, sitting there peeing, as if there's nothing under her.