Forgotten Fears (4 page)

“Well, they said they can’t guarantee a timescale, only that it will be within twenty-four hours.”

“We can’t wait that long. Did you tell them it’s an emergency?”

“I did. That’s their standard emergency response time apparently.”

“That’s bullshit. What are we going to do? You know how Tyler is with the dark.”

“I know, I thought about that, and I have an idea. Why don’t you pack a bag and take Tyler over to your mother’s for the night.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here and wait for the power company to come out. They will need to get inside the house to fix the problem I expect”

“You can’t stay here without any power,” She said, looking out of the window. He could see on her face she was trying to gauge how long until it would be dark.

“Look, it's fine, really.  It's just one night. Hell, they might even get here before dark and you can come back home if you want. I would feel better if I knew the two of you were warm and safe.”

Plus I could use the break away from you.

Although tempted, he didn’t say it. He had avoided one major argument already today and didn’t want to push his luck. To his surprise, she walked towards him and hugged him tightly. It felt more awkward than it should, but he went through the motions of returning the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” She said against his chest.

“It’s okay.” He lied.

“I want things to go back to how they were before... I get frustrated, that’s all.”

He said nothing and stroked her hair.

“We'll get there, I promise.”

He hated himself for saying it, because, in truth, he had no idea if they would be okay or not.

“I know you gave up a lot to move us out here. More than I deserve. I… I don’t mean to get angry all the time.”

“I did some things I’m not proud of either,” He replied, partly on autopilot as the cancer like hate inside him grew a little bit more. “It’s not your fault.”

The words left a bitter aftertaste, because, in his heart of hearts, he didn’t believe them.

She pulled away from the hug and looked him in the eye, probably for the first time in recent memory, and for a split second, there was no anger.

“Make sure you let me know as soon as they arrive and fix the power. Okay?” She said, blinking and reverting to staring at her feet.

“I will, I’ll just feel better knowing the two of you are safe,” He repeated. “You can’t stay here with Tyler when we have no power.”

“I’ll go pack a few things. Keep an eye on Tyler for me.”

She left the room, and as much as he hated himself for it, he felt better without her there. It was as if the heavy atmosphere was attached to her somehow, and whenever she left the room, she took it with her. He walked down the hall to the edge of the sitting room door and watched Tyler playing in his seat cushion fort without a care in the world. He was overcome with such a feeling of unease, he almost decided there and then to forget the house and go with them. He remembered Angeline’s mother, for want of a better word was a miserable old trout, who had looked down on him ever since the affair as if he were the only guilty party, and her daughter couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. He decided he would rather take his chances in the dark than spend an evening with the in-laws.

“Come on champ,” He said as he picked Tyler up. “You are going to visit miserable old grandma for a few hours.”

His son chattered and laughed as Billy looked out of the window. The sun was already lowering in the sky, turning its blue hue to a yellowish orange. In a few hours, it would be fully dark.

~III~

Tyler was chatting away to himself in his safety seat in the back of the Ford Explorer as Billy helped load the bags into the car.

“Jesus, it's only one night you know,” He muttered as he loaded the last of the bags.

“Well, I don’t know what I might need for Tyler. He’s still a little bit snotty.”

“Nice,” Billy said as he closed the car door.

They stood and looked at each other, and it was hard to ignore the awkwardness that lingered between them. The wind ruffled Angeline’s hair, and Billy felt a flicker of the physical attraction which had once been so intense between them was now non-existent. She caught his eye and smiled as she tucked the wayward hair behind her ear.

“What is it?” She asked.

There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to hold her, to protect her, shake her, scream at her. He wanted to wish away everything that both of them had done to taint their marriage, but the words wouldn’t project passed his throat, and instead he coughed.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” He said.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah, beer in the fridge, and plenty of food. Don’t worry, I’m sure this will all be fixed soon.”

She stepped forward and hugged him, and he held her, feeling that gnawing sense of dread which was becoming harder and harder to ignore. It was the same as when you could taste the energy in the air before a storm came, and as he cast his eye towards the heavens to the deep bruise coloured thunderheads, he thought a storm was a very real possibility.

“You should get moving,” He said, holding her at arm’s length. “Looks like the weather is about to turn.”

Angeline looked up to those same purple thunderheads, and for a second, Billy was sure he could see the same uncertainty in her that he felt.

“Go on, get a move on,” He said, forcing himself to smile as he opened the car door for her.

“I’ll call you when we get there,” She said as she climbed behind the wheel.

“I don’t have much charge on my phone, so I’ll make sure I don’t use it until I hear from you.”

She nodded, and he wanted to tell her he loved her until he thought of her writhing underneath that fat old man at the Christmas party, and the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll call you as soon as the power company gets in touch. Have a safe trip.”

He closed the car door and watched as she pulled on her seat belt. Tyler was heavy-eyed in his safety seat, so Billy decided it was best not to disturb him. Angeline gave him a last furtive look, then drove the car in a lazy circle, and headed slowly down the dusty road snaking away from the house. She waved as she went, and he responded in kind, ignoring the greasy roll of his stomach as his discomfort grew.

The first spot of rain touched his cheek and spotted his shirt as the thunderheads continued to build overhead. Not only was there going to be a storm, it looked like it might be a bad one. Billy sighed and walked back towards the house, hoping the time away from his wife might help him to make some sense of what he wanted from life, and more importantly, if Angeline was a part of it.

Chapter Two

~I~

The novelty of having the house to himself lasted for all of half an hour. At first, the lack of Tyler’s screaming and the whirlwind of chaos that went with him was bliss, but that quickly waned into boredom, and now, a little less than an hour after Angeline had driven away, he was feeling the effects of being alone. His isolation had been put to bed, for the time being at least, ideas of asking for a divorce. He walked through the house and out into the garden. The clouds seemed to have actually broken up a little, and although the sun was putting up a valiant fight, he suspected the thunderheads would eventually win. He held his breath and listened. Apart from the chatter of birdsong, there was silence. He watched as his shadow faded away as the clouds once again covered the sun, and another few drops of rain fell. He could taste the storm in the air, and suspected it could be a bitch. Struggling to shake off the feeling of isolation, he went back inside the house and walked through the rooms. Their wedding photograph was on the fireplace in the living room, and although he saw it every day, he picked it up and for the first time really looked at it.

It was plain to see they were both much happier. Angeline’s blue eyes bright and full of hope, her smile wide and natural. He stood beside her, proud in his suit, his hair back then showing less of the flecks of gray that now littered his sideburns. He compared the photograph to his reflection in the glass, and even in its murky half transparency saw the extra frown lines and tension in his face that were absent from his wedding picture. Although time had been kind to Angeline, it seemed to have kicked him squarely in the face.

He set the photo back on the mantle, disassembled Tyler’s cushion fort, and flopped down onto the sofa, lying across its full length. His eyes were heavy, and the silence which had bothered him so much earlier now soothed him. He glanced at the window, and could see a few streaks of rain were appearing on the glass. Stifling a yawn, he closed his eyes, only intending to rest them for a moment.

He was asleep within minutes.

~II~

Something pulled him out of his nightmare. He awoke with a start and for a moment, was unsure where he was. The rain drove against the window, and the room had grown murky. The ghost of his dream lingered in his mind as he rubbed his eyes.

In it, Angeline was with Tyler, driving towards her mother’s house. The storm that had been threatening was in full force, and the rain drove hard against the blacktop. He observed all of this from the passenger seat of the car and yet, he couldn’t move, nor did Angeline acknowledge his presence. She was driving too fast, squinting out of the window as she tried to navigate the vehicle. He wanted to call out to her, but he couldn’t open his mouth. When he looked in the wing mirror, he could see it was sewn shut with thick black cotton. Tyler started to cry, and already distressed, Angeline lost focus, passing his favorite toy between the seats to him in the back. Once again, Billy tried desperately to call out, but his stitched up lips would only let him murmur. Angeline veered into the opposite lane, not realising until she heard the desperate horn of the eighteen-wheeler, which was racing towards her head on. She had tried to swerve, but the road was wet, and the eighteen-wheeler smashed into the rear corner of the car at over sixty miles an hour, sending it flipping across the highway and into the ditch on the opposite side like paper caught in the wind. As was the way with dreams, Billy experienced the crash both from inside the car and out at the same time and now, to the backdrop of shattered glass and crumpled metal, he was free to scream.

The broken remains of the car came to rest on its roof in a ditch by the road, which was filling with water as the storm continued to rage. He could only watch on helplessly and unscathed as his bloody and bruised wife struggled to unpin herself from the wreckage. Her face was now only inches above the rising waterline. He was a disembodied passenger, part of the dream but at the same time not. His sons' name flashed in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to check the back seat, knowing he wouldn’t be able to cope with what he would see there. He watched as the water filled the car and covered Angeline’s face, sending her into spasms as she struggled to free herself. It was then he had been jarred awake.

His state of confusion was broken by another sound, this time, one in the real world, a sharp rat-a-tat-tat of someone knocking on the door. He realised as he stumbled to his feet that this was the sound which had initially pulled him out of his nightmare, and for that, he was grateful. Billy jogged to the door and swung it open.

Pale gray overalls filled his field of vision. It was only when he craned his neck that he saw the full scale of the man from Trans Energy. Rain dripped off his black hair, and his piggy eyes were harsh and staring, his skin waxy and pocked with old acne scars. The man was huge, at least six and a half feet tall and well over three hundred pounds. He filled the entire door frame. As Billy gawped, the man removed the red pencil he had been chewing on from the corner of his mouth.

“Name’s Grant,” He said, pointing to his chest, where, indeed, his name was embroidered in a tatty red font. “Power Company sent me. You need a fix, right?”

He had a southern drawl, Texas maybe, and something inside Billy told him to be cautious.

“Uh yeah,” He mumbled, still trying to rid the vivid dream from his memory. “Come in.”

The man nodded and entered, ducking under the door frame. He looked even more immense now he was inside the house. The man slipped the chewed up pencil back into his mouth and looked around the house.

“Breakers in the basement?” He asked, staring at Billy with those harsh, probing eyes.

“Yeah, it’s this way,” Billy said as he led the way to the kitchen. The man followed, the sound of his heavy work boots echoing on the wooden floor.

The basement was accessed through the kitchen, and Billy stood aside and showed the man the door.

“There it is. You want a torch?”

The man shook his head.

“I sniffed a cunts bicycle seat,” He said in reply as he unclipped his own much bigger, much more sturdy torch from his belt and opened the basement door.

Billy could only stare and try to figure out if he had either misheard or imagined what Grant from Trans Energy had just said.

The man went on as normal, as if the profanity had never left his lips, and contented himself with rolling the pencil to the opposite side of his mouth as he flicked the flashlight on and shined the beam down the steps.