Prerequisites for Sleep by Jennifer L. Stone Page B

kids like to do that sort of thing. Diane never went to her prom. Wasn’t much for boys or going out back then. She was asked, though. Remember, Bill? Remember that poor bugger who showed up at our door all dressed up with a corsage in hand? Diane never even told us she was invited. Why anyone would just disappear instead of going, or at least telling the guy she wasn’t going to go, is beyond me. Now in my day, I loved getting all gussied up in satin and rhinestones. Had the boys falling all over me when I went to prom. Not Diane. She just took off. Didn’t come back for two days. Worried sick, we were. We called the police and they organized a search, then Diane shows up with the old pup tent we used to have in the garage.” Doris shifted her gaze towards her daughter. “Wasn’t that boy one of the Milligans? Ethan, wasn’t that his name? Whatever happened to him?”
    â€œHe’s a police officer,” Caroline interjected. “His daughter is in Allison’s class.”
    â€œA police officer,” Doris said. She clicked her tongue and helped herself to a large slice of turkey breast. “You wouldn’t have thought he had it in him. Not if you saw him on our doorstep back then.”
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    After dinner, Diane and Caroline were filling plastic containers with leftovers and stacking them in the fridge. “So, what are you doing tomorrow?” Caroline asked, snapping the lid on a bowl of gravy.
    Diane didn’t hear the question. She was busy thinking of Sheldon, and of his need to turn destinations into departure points, and of the excuses she would make in order to leave before the week was up. She wondered whether she was becoming like her son or if he had been like her all along. Years later, long after Sheldon had disappeared for good and Diane only travelled when Liam picked her up from the seniors’ home every other Sunday, she would still find herself pondering this more often than not.

Chasing Rabbits
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    The dog was off again. Jake could hear him racing through the weeds in Eugene’s yard, heavy panting mixed with the hissing of disturbed vegetation. “Einstein!” he called, directing his voice through the thicket of black spruce that separated the two properties.
    â€œNot too bright, that Einstein. Doesn’t look like he’s gonna listen.”
    The last thing Jake needed was Gene’s sarcasm. For eight years, Einstein had never left the yard. Then Eugene added pet rabbits to the equation, minus a cage. For the kids, he said, but the kids moved out west with their mother after the divorce last year. The rabbits couldn’t make the trip.
    Originally there were three of them: two grey, one tan. Sometime over the winter, one of the grey ones disappeared. Must have been a hawk or an owl. It happened in Jake’s driveway. Nothing left but red snow and bits of downy fluff. Whatever had gotten the rabbit, Jake kept hoping it would come back for another meal. He was getting tired of chasing the little bastards out of Maxine’s gardens.
    â€œThat dog of yours gets a hold of one of my rabbits, I’ll shoot him,” Gene yelled.
    Jake couldn’t see him, but he had a pretty good idea where Gene was. When he was home, Gene was only ever in two places: in the front yard working on some wreck, or on the back deck downing a beer. Deck, concluded Jake, steering left and cutting through the trees to Gene’s yard. He took the time to brush spider webs from his face and hair before clapping his hands, mostly for effect. There was no way in hell the dog was going to stop until he was tired, and no way he would catch a rabbit either, not with arthritis in his hip.
    Gene was leaning on the deck rail, absently peeling the label off a beer bottle and wearing a look that Jake labelled as antagonistic pleasure.
    Jake sidestepped a discarded tire rim. “What do you expect? He’s a spaniel. It’s only natural for him to