I Thought You Were Dead (17 page)
Read I Thought You Were Dead Online
Authors: Pete Nelson
Rats deprived of REM sleep for a few days start attacking their handlers and one another. They become hypermetabolic and burn huge amounts of calories standing still. Their hair falls out. The first to die, die of sepsis after five days, and the majority die at about the three-week mark, while the hardiest last as long as a month. Dolphins and whales get very little REM sleep, one cerebral hemisphere dozing off while the other half stays awake. Even fruit flies need sleep. Of all the creatures tested, the duck-billed platypus gets more REM sleep than any other animal.
“What does a platypus dream about?” he wondered.
“Probably about being anything other than a platypus,” Stella said.
It became relevant when his sister told him Carl wasn't sleeping much, maybe four or five hours a night by his own estimation, and he was probably understating the case. Paul told Bits people who are sleep deprived never know how much they're suffering, forgetting things, making mistakes, never recognize their failures of commission and omission, their attention lapses, because their judgment is the first thing to go, once sleep loss turns their brains to mush, and they can no longer self-assess.
“I talked to Erica,” Bits said. “She says Carl's been under a lot of stress since Dad's stroke. She's hoping he'll take something for it.”
“He won't,” Paul said.
“I know,” Bits said. “Though he started drinking warm milk before bedtime. They say that actually works.”
He suddenly felt sorry for his brother. He wasn't sure that he ever had before. Until now, Paul had never wanted to admit how much he relied on his brother and needed him to be strong. For a moment, he regretted destroying the list of Carl's PINs. If he had them, he could keep a surreptitious but benevolent eye on Carl's well-being.
He was checking his e-mail a few days after his conversation with Bits when Tamsen instant-messaged him. He'd intentionally tried not to keep exact track of the days. In his fantasies, Tamsen would have flown home early, taken a limo to his door from the airport, and told him breathlessly that all was forgiven and what a mistake she'd made, going to Paris with the wrong man.
TamsenP:
hey paul. busy?
PaulGus:
Just got in. I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Welcome back. How are you?
TamsenP:
tired. i would have called you last night but i didn't
get home until two in the morning. they lost my luggage. they called this morning and said they found it and they'd ship it to my door.
PaulGus:
Bummer.
TamsenP:
i tried to e-mail you from paris at an internet cafe but the guy there couldn't figure out how to get to aol. did you get my postcard?
PaulGus:
Got it. Thanks. So you had a good time?
TamsenP:
it was beautiful. i'll tell you all about it when i see you. if you want me to.
PaulGus:
Okay.
TamsenP:
would you like to get offline and talk on the phone?
PaulGus:
I'd
like
to see you in person. But this is okay, for now.
TamsenP:
how's your car? i was worried.
PaulGus:
All fixed. The battery cable was loose. I'm sorry I missed you.
TamsenP:
I was worried that you were stranded somewhere.
PaulGus:
Nothing serious.
TamsenP:
i'm relieved.
PaulGus:
Did you talk? You and Stephen.
TamsenP:
yup.
PaulGus:
And?
TamsenP:
inconclusive.
PaulGus:
What does that mean?
He was glad to put the lie about the car behind him. There were long pauses between their transmissions. He suspected Tamsen was walking the line as she tried to answer his questions honestly without betraying Stephen or hurting Paul's feelings.
TamsenP:
just that. i think it's still too soon to tell. i don't think he knows what he wants. he's not even sure he wants
to stay in the east. his brother has a radiology practice in los angeles and he's invited stephen to join it. stephen's ex has been thinking of taking the kids there permanently, so there's a chance they all might move. or stay. or he'd go and she wouldn't, or vice versa.
PaulGus:
Would you go if he did?
TamsenP:
i don't know what to say. it's a possibility.
PaulGus:
It is?
TamsenP:
just a possibility. i don't feel like i could leave my mother. i know she'd be all right but i think our weekly dinners mean a lot to her. other reasons.
PaulGus:
It's funny how the people you love make your life so complicated, but if you didn't have someone to love, your life would be unlivable.
TamsenP:
funny “ha-ha” or funny “peculiar?”
PaulGus:
There's a song called “Funny Peculiar,” Thelonious Monk.
TamsenP:
i know. we were listening to it in class before i left.
PaulGus:
How's Sheila? Pick up any good Edith Piaf CDs?
TamsenP:
nope. sheila's fine. i assume. i'm going to see her tonight. wickenden cafe. the same place we went after you spoke to my book club.
PaulGus:
I'm glad you're home. Safe.
TamsenP:
i missed you. i probably shouldn't be saying this but i thought about you every day. just so you know. i almost called you a couple of times. i'm having a hard time.
PaulGus:
I'm glad to hear you say that. I missed you too. A lot. Can I ask you a question?
TamsenP:
anything.
PaulGus:
I know this is just going to make me sound insecure, and I'm sorry, but I really need to ask. Do you still love me?
TamsenP:
of course i do.
PaulGus:
Why? Humor me.
TamsenP:
i can't do this right now.
PaulGus:
Never mind, then. It's just been a rough couple of weeks, self-confidence-wise.
He waited for her to respond. For a moment he wondered if she'd logged off. Perhaps she had to take a phone call. Then:
TamsenP:
i love you because you're extraordinary. i love you for your sense of humor and your spirit and you have this weird mix of sadness and optimism and self-absorption and selflessness and silly and serious and i don't know why. there's a million things and no real reason. i love the way you see things. the way you get me. i love how fair you try to be. i love how soft your eyes are. i love how you're loyal to your friends. i love the way you are with your dog. i love the way you walk. i love how you're interested in other people, which has always been a sign to me of a fine person. i don't know, paul. i don't spend much time analyzing it. i just go with the feeling. i love how you can make me laugh whenever you want to.
PaulGus:
Does Stephen make you laugh?
TamsenP:
paul, i'm not going to get into comparisons.
PaulGus:
I love your laugh. I live for it. Sometimes I feel like the reason I was put on this earth was to make you laugh. Does that sound too grandiose?
TamsenP:
that sounds nice. no one makes me laugh the way you do. no one. even the sophomoric stuff. we're our own little two-person laughing club. no matter how bad anything gets, you always keep your sense of humor.
PaulGus:
Whistling through the graveyard, as they say.
TamsenP:
it says something about you. it recommends you.
PaulGus:
You should come here and live with me. You'd be a kept woman.
TamsenP:
and you'd be my sugar daddy?
PaulGus:
I'd buy you mink stoles and we'd have T-bones and martinis every night and ride around in my convertible.
TamsenP:
now you're talking. i'd have to redecorate your swinging bachelor pad though. apropos of nothing, my feet are killing me.
PaulGus:
Why?
TamsenP:
i don't know. they're always killing me. i wish you were here. you could hide under my desk and rub my feet
PaulGus:
I could do more than that.
TamsenP:
change of subject â how is your father feeling?
PaulGus:
Hard to say. About the same, I suppose. My mother said his grip is getting stronger but it's still just the right hand. No spoken words yet. He doesn't always recognize people, but she thinks he understands more and more every day. Sometimes he gets confused.
TamsenP:
have you been working with him?
PaulGus:
Trying. Sometimes I get confused too.
TamsenP:
in what way?
PaulGus:
I seldom know what to say. The “conversations” are fairly one-sided.
TamsenP:
but you knew that.
PaulGus:
True.
TamsenP:
what do you “talk” about?
PaulGus:
Sometimes I try to find out what he's feeling. Not easy to do when your vocabulary is limited to two words. On the other hand, we never had much luck even with the entire dictionary at our disposal.
TamsenP:
i'm sure it's helping.
PaulGus:
My sister says Carl isn't sleeping. None of my business, I guess.
TamsenP:
give him a call, why don't you?
PaulGus:
Maybe. I missed you.
TamsenP:
can you come see me next weekend? i thought maybe we could go to the ihop. you can choose the syrup.
PaulGus:
I'd 1ove that.
Faith
I
have a confession to make,” he told her. They were in her living room. They'd gone to the movies. She was happy to see him, and he was happy to see her. He had to spoil it. He could see no alternative. His conscience wouldn't let him do otherwise. He'd spent the time driving down from Massachusetts thinking of what words to use. They'd launched their affair on the premise that they could tell each other anything. Anything less than that, and cascade to failure could be reliably predicted. Full disclosure was indicated, with atonement to follow, if all went well. “You're going to hate me.”
“I'm not going to hate you,” she said.
“Yes, you are,” he said.
He wanted her to say, “No, I won't, I promise,” but she didn't.
“The day I went to Fenway with Murph,” he said, “I didn't actually have car trouble. I lied.”
There was a pause.
“You lied?” The look on her face was more one of confusion or disbelief than one of anger. “Why?”
“I didn't plan on it,” he said. “I was going to tell you the truth if you answered the phone, but when I got your machine, I ⦠froze.”
“That doesn't make any sense,” she said. “Froze about what?”
“I was afraid you were going to break up with me,” he said. “That that was why you were coming. To clear the way so that you could have a good time in Paris. And the only way I could stop that from happening was not to be there. It was too complicated to leave on your machine.”
“So you lied?” she said. “That comes easier to you?”
“Not usually,” he said. “If it came easy, it wouldn't have bothered me so much. I couldn't live with it. That's why I had to tell you.”
She looked at him like he'd put his underwear on outside his pants.
“I used poor judgment.”
“You get that feeling, do you?” she said.
“Tell me what you think.”
“I'm trying to think of what to say,” she said. “It leaves me a little speechless.”
The idea of losing her good opinion was too much to bear.
“You didn't have car trouble?”
“Nope.”
“So where were you?”
“At the rest area,” he said.
“So you just lied about the â ”
“Battery. It wasn't on purpose,” he told her. “I mean, not consciously. It just came out.”
“That's supposed to make me feel better?” she said.
“I told you you'd hate me,” he said.
This was where she was supposed to say, “I don't hate you.” She looked at him for a long time.
“Were you ⦠,” she began.
“Was I what?” Paul asked.
She paused again, changing her mind about whatever it was she was going to say.
“I'm glad you told me the truth,” she said at last. “This just
really raises serious questions about ⦠trust. It's so basic. Donald lied to me. It's fundamentally undermining when ⦠I know we're not supposed to judge each other, but I'm just not sure I want to be ⦔
“Be what?” This was a blank he did not want to fill in.
“I won't get drawn into this again,” she said. “It's not my job. It's your responsibility, not mine.”
“It is my responsibility. I'm agreeing with you. The idea of you spending two weeks in Paris was driving me crazy. I'm not making excuses. I just wanted to make it clear to you. I feel terrible.”
“Just say you're sorry,” Stella had strongly recommended. “Don't say, âI'm sorry,
but
⦠' ”
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.
She looked at him in silence for a very long time. Before she could answer, the telephone rang. It was her friend Caitlin. Paul felt saved by the bell or, more accurately, the chirp. Tamsen went into the kitchen to take the call and after a few minutes returned to Paul, putting her hand over the mouthpiece.