Page 40 of Absolution

“Hello?” I rasp. I try to find my core, some part of my body that isn’t shutting down, and that can help me live.

There’s no answer.

I force myself up on my knees, numb fingers clutch for the buttons in the icy overcoat. I know I have to get this shit off me. When the buttons finally come undone, I shed the coat, dropping it where I stand. I try to toe off my shoes, but I can’t feel my feet and can’t coordinate my limbs, so instead I pull off the sweater and the shirt, the checkered shirt that used to be Kerry’s dad’s. I’ve never seen my skin so pale. Next to me hangs outdoor clothes and thick sweaters. There are gloves and knitted ski caps.

I reach for one of the sweaters and pull it on with jerky moves, almost weeping from the effort, then I stagger deeper into the house.

Someone lives here, and I should worry about who. I can’t go to a local hospital. I can’t be caught by the cops. We have no leverage in Canada, no contacts. I could go away for real if they find out who I am and what I’ve done. I feel for the gun in my pocket, it’s still there and I fumble forever to pull it up. It’s useless in its soaked state, but whoever I meet won’t know that.

The sound of a TV blaring some commercial gets louder as I investigate the deeper recesses of the ill-maintained house, the rooms small and dusky, every curtain pulled closed over the windows.

My heart pounds as I enter the little living room. A chair stands with its back to me. A tuft of gray hair and a foot is all I see of the person sitting there. From the TV comes fake laughter from some breakfast cereal commercial.

“Hello?”

The person moves, and an old woman peeks around the side of the backrest. Her face is void of all emotions and she has almost no wrinkles despite her apparent old age. It’s obvious the horses aren’t in the stable anymore. She’s probably far gone in Alzheimer’s or some other dementia. Her empty eyes have an eerie light blue color.

“Ray?” says a thin voice.

My frozen mind kicks into action, a series of images flipping through my mind. Ray. Ray in the grocery store. Ray in the hotel. Ray at Kerry’s house.

Ray is dead.

“Mom?” I say tentatively, and put the gun back in the pocket. “I’m a bit cold.”

Kerry

My fingers tremble when I dial the well-known number.

Mom.

I haven’t talked to her in probably six months, and before that… that was before I left Chicago. I haven’t told her anything. I haven’t dared, afraid she’d get pulled into my nightmare, that they’d come after her too. She knows nothing of my life. I never let her come visit me in Chicago. She has never met Cecilia. She doesn’t know I’m in Canada. She doesn’t know of Christian.

“Yes?” Hearing the warm, slightly husky voice nearly brings me to my knees in relief, and in profound pain knowing how much I’ve hurt her.

“Mom?” My voice quakes pathetically.

“Kerry? Oh my God! Where are you? Are you in trouble?”

“I’m coming home, Mom. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” I swallow hard, terrified she’ll reject me, lash out. “I’ve missed you,” I whisper.

“I’m— You are? When?”

The hope in her voice makes my chest tighten. “Soon. Really soon. A few days.”

“Are you okay? Is Cecilia okay?”

I look over at my daughter. We’re being released from care. Finally. She’s fine. Maybe a little pale, but it’s also winter. Neither of us have seen the sun. She’s playing on the floor by my feet with toys we’ve borrowed from the children’s ward. Outside snowflakes whirl past the window. I shudder. I’m not fine. I still have a horrible cough, and I tire easily, even from walking a mere few steps, but they say I’m recovering.

“We’re good. How… are you?” My heart feels as if it shatters from having left her right when Dad had just died. I had good reasons, but still. I should have talked to her. Regret has consumed me these last few days when the thought of home has set root.

“It’s… Sometimes up, sometimes down. It’s getting better. I miss him…”

“I know. I do too.”

“Do you want me to do something? Do you need to be picked up somewhere? Do you need money?”

“Mom… I can’t get hold of Chloe. My house…”

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