Irritable,” he says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “I know he’s not my biggest fan, but it was strange.”
“I’m sure he likes you just fine,” I say. “It’s just stress. I think he and Holly are having issues. Best just to leave it alone.”
“Ah,” he says, “I see.… Trouble in paradise.”
“So you would call this paradise?”
He looks over at me, squinting like I’m miles away. I try desperately to keep my face neutral, to stop my cheeks from turning a bright, burning red. Getting a sneaky question past him will be hard, much harder than with Holly.
“What are you up to?” he asks, scooting closer.
Well, here goes.
“I heard someone on the radio last night,” I tell him. His eyes double in size. “It was a man at the university. They’ve set up some kind of relief effort there. He also read me to sleep.”
“Really?” Zack replied, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.
“Not like that. It was … nice, but odd, ya know? To hear someone out there, someone with some kind of authority. He said they had food and shelter.”
“He a cop?”
“I don’t think so, he didn’t say anything like that,” I reply. He looks away, down at his fingernails. “So?”
“So what?”
“So do you think we should go?”
“It’s not so bad here.”
“That’s what I was thinking too. The last thing I want is to be milling around with a hundred sweaty college kids, or my own goddamn professors,” I say, shaking my head. “But we might run out of food here, especially if my mom is coming and bringing people, or the cold.… I just think it’s worth discussing.”
“Look,” he says, taking my hand. “Food can be found. What we have here … It’s like a home, a place of our own. If we go to the university who knows what we’ll find. It might sound good now, but it will be harder to leave once we’re there.”
“I know,” I say, “but I’m not good at keeping secrets. I think I should tell the others.”
“Do it,” he says, nodding vigorously, his curls bouncing. “But I guarantee you they’ll say the same thing.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“Mind if stay? I could use a bedtime story.”
We turn on the radio and blow out the candle. The voice is there, the stranger. We lie perfectly still in the dark, both of us on our backs, listening to Dapper breathing and to the low, rhythmic voice coming to us over the radio. I can’t help but wonder at the miracle of such things, of technologies I’ve never cared about or considered before. It’s as if an entirely new person is there with us, a man I’ve never met but that I know will become familiar with time. He’s there, reading, his voice separating into a million pinpoints of light, carrying a story, words, warmth. We lay quiet and still and I feel my breath going out of my lungs, lifting out and over to the radio, traveling through the speaker, across the invisible airwaves to visit the stranger with the mesmerizing voice.
The voice reads from The Awakening and I can’t help but think of my mom. I wish she was here to listen, to put me at ease. It would be much easier to just relax and enjoy the radio if I knew she was still alive, if I knew she would make it here to read it to me again the way she used to. She’s out there, I know she is. I just hope my urgent thoughts are enough to see her safely through.
COMMENTS
Isaac says:
October 3, 2009 at 9:08 pm
Any word from your mom yet?
Allison says:
October 3, 2009 at 9:29 pm
Nothing yet. I’m trying not to panic but it shouldn’t take her long. On a normal day you could get here from her house in forty-five minutes. I guess that distance doesn’t mean much anymore.
Brooklyn Girl says:
October 3, 2009 at 10:09 pm
Hey, if we’re still here hanging on then she could definitely make it. Don’t give up hope, Allison.
October 4, 2009—Sense and Sensibility
“Anything?”
“Nothing. Not a peep. There are some Floaters milling around outside but no sign
“I’m sure he likes you just fine,” I say. “It’s just stress. I think he and Holly are having issues. Best just to leave it alone.”
“Ah,” he says, “I see.… Trouble in paradise.”
“So you would call this paradise?”
He looks over at me, squinting like I’m miles away. I try desperately to keep my face neutral, to stop my cheeks from turning a bright, burning red. Getting a sneaky question past him will be hard, much harder than with Holly.
“What are you up to?” he asks, scooting closer.
Well, here goes.
“I heard someone on the radio last night,” I tell him. His eyes double in size. “It was a man at the university. They’ve set up some kind of relief effort there. He also read me to sleep.”
“Really?” Zack replied, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.
“Not like that. It was … nice, but odd, ya know? To hear someone out there, someone with some kind of authority. He said they had food and shelter.”
“He a cop?”
“I don’t think so, he didn’t say anything like that,” I reply. He looks away, down at his fingernails. “So?”
“So what?”
“So do you think we should go?”
“It’s not so bad here.”
“That’s what I was thinking too. The last thing I want is to be milling around with a hundred sweaty college kids, or my own goddamn professors,” I say, shaking my head. “But we might run out of food here, especially if my mom is coming and bringing people, or the cold.… I just think it’s worth discussing.”
“Look,” he says, taking my hand. “Food can be found. What we have here … It’s like a home, a place of our own. If we go to the university who knows what we’ll find. It might sound good now, but it will be harder to leave once we’re there.”
“I know,” I say, “but I’m not good at keeping secrets. I think I should tell the others.”
“Do it,” he says, nodding vigorously, his curls bouncing. “But I guarantee you they’ll say the same thing.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“Mind if stay? I could use a bedtime story.”
We turn on the radio and blow out the candle. The voice is there, the stranger. We lie perfectly still in the dark, both of us on our backs, listening to Dapper breathing and to the low, rhythmic voice coming to us over the radio. I can’t help but wonder at the miracle of such things, of technologies I’ve never cared about or considered before. It’s as if an entirely new person is there with us, a man I’ve never met but that I know will become familiar with time. He’s there, reading, his voice separating into a million pinpoints of light, carrying a story, words, warmth. We lay quiet and still and I feel my breath going out of my lungs, lifting out and over to the radio, traveling through the speaker, across the invisible airwaves to visit the stranger with the mesmerizing voice.
The voice reads from The Awakening and I can’t help but think of my mom. I wish she was here to listen, to put me at ease. It would be much easier to just relax and enjoy the radio if I knew she was still alive, if I knew she would make it here to read it to me again the way she used to. She’s out there, I know she is. I just hope my urgent thoughts are enough to see her safely through.
COMMENTS
Isaac says:
October 3, 2009 at 9:08 pm
Any word from your mom yet?
Allison says:
October 3, 2009 at 9:29 pm
Nothing yet. I’m trying not to panic but it shouldn’t take her long. On a normal day you could get here from her house in forty-five minutes. I guess that distance doesn’t mean much anymore.
Brooklyn Girl says:
October 3, 2009 at 10:09 pm
Hey, if we’re still here hanging on then she could definitely make it. Don’t give up hope, Allison.
October 4, 2009—Sense and Sensibility
“Anything?”
“Nothing. Not a peep. There are some Floaters milling around outside but no sign
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