Itwas when he realized the dog had stopped barking and the night was deathlysilent again, and that his nightmare had passed from the dreamtime intoreality.
* * *
“You’vehardly touched your breakfast,” his mother commented as she sat down at thetable and unfolded the morning newspaper. Faye Ellis had already eaten herslice of toast with cottage cheese and her cup of diced peaches, and hadalready cleaned her dishes. Judging by how little coffee was left in the urn,she’d also finished at least two cups, although he couldn’t be sure she’dactually made a full pot. At least she was still in her pajamas and bathrobe,and to his estimation Kevin couldn’t understand how she didn’t melt under allthose layers. The morning was already pushing 80 degrees.
“Ididn’t sleep well, Ma.”
“Well,I can’t say I’m surprised. The neighborhood must have had a blackout lastnight. Too many air conditioners draining all that electricity away. It happensevery now and then, when the summer gets too hot.”
“Mom,did you hear something outside this morning? Just after three a.m.?”
Fayepicked up her coffee mug and took a long sip, then flipped through thenewspaper to find the obituary page. Kevin couldn’t help but flinch as shespread the paper out on the table, revealing rows of names and photographs ofthose once living the day before. From where he was sitting, the newspapercould have been the map to a graveyard. This was her daily routine; one thathadn’t changed since he moved out of the house to start his own life.
“Likewhat?” she said. “Maybe you heard one of the transformers shorting out. That’susually what happens when we lose power. Sometimes they even sound like a smallexplosion.”
“No,Ma, not like that. I just…I don’t know.” Kevin pushed his fork into the friedegg on his plate and cut it apart. Seeing the slit he’d made oozing yellow yolkmade him think of the thing outside his window again, just before it screamed.He placed the fork on the plate and pushed it away from him. “Never mind, Mom.I’m sorry, but I’m just not very hungry right now.”
Fayelooked up from the paper. “Honey, you get this way every single time you comehere. Why won’t you just talk to me about what happened? You’ll feel a lotbetter if you’d just talk to me. I want for you to not carry things aroundinside anymore. It’s not healthy for you, sweetheart.”
Kevinglanced at the rows of obituaries in the paper and sighed. It was painfullyobvious that she was still carrying things inside as well, that she wasjust as obsessed as he was with the past but in her own quiet, accusatory way.Perhaps this was her way of trying to get him to surrender and say somethingfirst, but that would require making himself remember and that was the lastthing he wanted to do.
“Isaid never mind.”
“Okay,fine. I’m not going to press it.” Faye leaned over and resumed ogling the namesof the departed. “If you aren’t going to eat your breakfast, please scrape yourplate into the trash and wash it. Maybe you’ll feel hungry enough to eat lateron.”
Kevinstood up and walked his plate over to the trashcan. He was just beginning toscrape when his mother broke the awkward silence that had risen between them.
“Oh,my! Charles Grady passed away yesterday.”
Goosebumps prickled up Kevin’s arms and neck. He glanced out the kitchen window atthe fence behind the house, toward the house sitting on the opposite side. TheGrady house was a derelict gambrel with brown clapboard siding and filthy whiteshutters weather-worn and rusted until they resembled scabs. From his bedroom windowKevin could see most of the backside of the Grady house, but preferred not to.
“Ididn’t think that guy was even still alive,” he said as he turned on the faucetand squirted detergent on the plate. “I’d just assumed he died ages ago. God,he was an old man even when I was in high school.”
“Charleswasn’t that old back then. But the column said he was eighty-one, so helived a full life. I suppose it’s been ages since I’ve seen him at the grocerystore or walking into town. It doesn’t say in the newspaper how they found himor what he died from.”
Kevinwalked to the window (the wet plate in his hands spattering droplets onto thefloor) and looked at the house behind the fence. From the angle he was looking,he couldn’t see the doghouse that he knew was in old man Grady’s back yard.He’d have been able to if he looked from his bedroom window, but he…
“Mom,how long has Butch been dead?” The question escaped before he even had time toconsider what roads the discussion might lead down once asked. Butch had beenone of those things he was fighting to not remember. But now that his mind wasrolling, the image of the mangy, always-vicious pitbull was at the forefront.He could see the leather collar that looked as if it was too tight, alwaysgouging into the dog’s neck until the fur beneath rubbed clean off. And thehate in its eyes, or the way its fangs protruded like white daggers when itsnarled.
Fayepushed the newspaper aside and looked at him, sizing him up with thosejudgmental hazel eyes.
“Oh,gosh…well, you know they put him down after what happened. Does this meanyou’re finally ready to talk about it?”
Kevinfelt his cheeks flush.
“No.No, I was only wondering. Did old man Grady ever get a new dog? After Butchdied?”
Fayefrowned. “Yes, he bought another dog long after you moved away. That one was aRottweiler named Champ. That thing was a lot more timid than Butch was. Charleswas not a good pet owner. He used to put the fear of God into them until theydid whatever he commanded.”
“Doeshe have a dog now? Because I heard it barking
