Ignoring his son was something he'd never been good at.
It wasn't something he could do now.
If he'd gone mad, so be it.
If Alex was real, if he had come back to torment his father for failing him...
Then Ian was still his father, and he would still be there for his son, no matter how difficult the task.
He slid off the couch to the floor.
"Alex, you know we can't read that book.
Don't you?"
"It's 'More More More, Said the Baby'," Alex explained.
"I know it is.
I love that book.
You know why?"
"Why?" Alex said.
"Because it reminds me of you, and of how much I love you.
And how I would do anything for you."
"Yeah.
But let's read it, Daddy."
He took a step toward the couch.
"We can't do that.
I think you know that."
Alex drew up short.
Ian was deviating from the script.
"We can't do that.
No matter how much I want to.
Do you know why?"
"It's 'More More More, Said the Baby'."
"Because you're gone, Alex.
You died.
Do you remember what that means?"
He changed.
The book disappeared and he was in a grey dress shirt and black slacks, impressively sharp and somber for a four-year-old.
Ready for Alina's mom's funeral.
"It means we'll never see her again?"
"It means we can never see each other again.
Right.
You were killed -"
The word cracked on his tongue.
He waited while the familiar grief squeezed his chest, watching his beautiful son watch him.
"A man - an
evil
man, a terrible man - killed you.
And Daddy wanted to help, he would've done anything...."
He wrestled with himself.
"Oh, god, Alex,
anything
to save you, but he couldn't.
He couldn't.
And now..."
"We can never see Grandma again?"
Alex didn't understand.
It was just like when he'd been alive, when he'd seemed to get what Ian was saying and then asked if Grandma was going to be at the church for the funeral too.
His innocent effort to comprehend left Ian reeling.
"Right, Alex.
Right.
Except it's you.
Not Grandma.
You are the one who died this time."
Alex's brows furrowed.
"You can see her, I bet.
You can find her there.
But you just can't stay here.
It's not a place for you..."
Oh, god, Alex.
"Not a place for you anymore."
The clothes disappeared.
He was wet, cold.
"I'll just call for you and mommy!"
"No, Alex.
It's too late for that now."
"I'll just call for you and mommy!"
"Alex, no.
I'm sorry.
It's too late."
A red turtleneck and jeans, his face bruised, his hands lashed together with duct tape.
"
Daddy!
"
It was nothing like the cries he gave when his toys were lost, nothing.
It was feral, anguished; the cry of a lost child, desperate for his father to hear him.
Ian doubled over as if he'd been punched in the stomach.
"
Daddy!
"
Alex was sobbing.
"Alex," Ian managed.
"I can hear you.
I'm here.
This is over."
Oh, Jesus.
Oh, god.
"Do you understand?
This is over.
He can't hurt you any more.
You are safe now."
"Daddy..."
Whimpering, snorting like an animal.
"Alex, oh god, honey.
Please.
It's over.
Okay?
He killed you, but that means you're free.
Please just think of that.
Please think -"
"Daddy, where are you?"
"Alex."
There was nothing he could do.
He was as powerless now as he had been then.
What had he been doing while his son screamed for him?
Had he been sleeping, in bed?
Making love to his wife?
Watching Law & Order?
"Alex... is there a light?"
Alex's head snapped up, as if he'd heard a sudden noise.
"There's a light.
Right?
Somewhere, by you, you see a light?
And you have to go into it.
Okay, Alex?
Do you hear me?
Go into that light.
Grandma is there -"
Alex rolled to the wall, put his back against it, staggered to a stand despite his taped hands and feet.
"- and the bad man isn't, the bad man's not there.
The light is safe from him.
Okay?"
He was staring at the far wall, eyes wide.
"Alex, god, please listen.
Find the light.
Okay?
Find the light."
"
No!
"
he shrieked.
He started hopping toward the hallway.
It was pathetic, gangly.
"No!
No!
Leave me alone!
"
Daddy!
"
He limped out of sight around the corner.
His door slammed.
Ian fell like an untied balloon, sent whizzing around the room until it collapses to the floor, empty.
He had nothing left.
He couldn't move.
A boulder had pinned him to the earth.
He wondered if Alex had found a light.
He wondered if there was such a thing.
He wondered if he would go to hell for telling his tormented son to look for something he himself did not believe in.
And he wished there was a heaven.
He wished that harder than he had ever wished anything in his life.
He woke a little after 2 am, his face raw from chafing against the carpet, his head throbbing like he had torn it in half.
Groaning, he climbed to all fours and then to a stand.
He stumbled to the bathroom, thinking to pee, and ended up collapsing to his knees and spewing his modest dinner into the toilet.
When he finished, he held his breath and listened.
The furnace kicking on.
The house settling.
An autumn wind tugging at the windows.
Nothing else.
The toilet flushed like thunder in the silence.
His upper lip was crusted with dried snot; he scrubbed it off and rinsed his mouth several times.
In the mirror he saw a haggard, red-eyed madman.
His son's door was still closed as he stepped out of the bathroom.
He left it that way, and went to bed.
The alarm went off at seven, sawing at his ears like a cheese grater.
He hit the snooze button and repeated the process nine minutes later.
Then again.
Then again.
At 7:30 he staggered into the living room and called in sick.
He was lucky enough to get Justin's voicemail.
That was good.
He didn't want to talk to him.
He thought about going back to bed, but knew it wouldn't do any good.
He stayed on the couch instead, staring blankly at the TV as the curtains over the windows slowly started glowing with daylight.
Justin would be pissed when he got the voicemail.
Wonder if I'll still have a job on Monday.
Ian remembered Billi telling him to look into FMLA.
Maybe if he qualified for that, Justin wouldn't be able to fire him.
He idly considered Googling it, but that would mean going downstairs.
His listless gaze strayed away from the jumble of images on the TV to the hallway, half expecting to find Alex there, but it was empty.
For both of their sakes, he hoped the boy was gone.
Some channel was playing an all-day marathon of the Simpsons' Halloween shows, and he realized dully that Halloween was Sunday already.
Gotta get some candy.
He remembered Alex's first Halloween, and how amazed he and Alina had been that the kid seemed to know exactly what to do.
His mastery of the phrase "Trick or Treat" had come faster than "I'm hungry" or "I love you".
After two houses had given him candy, he was running to the next one.
He shook off the memory, stood up, and went to make breakfast.
At Target, he picked up four bags of candy (two Sour Patch Kids, one Snickers, and one Almond Joy), various supplies for the house, and a few more frozen pizzas.
He wasn't much of a cook, but on a lark he also stopped at the grocery store and bought a raw steak and a baking potato.
His back seat remained empty for the entire trip.
He stopped off at home, made a quick lunch, and put the groceries away.
He couldn't see the door to Alex's room most of the time, but when he stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall, he drew up short, staring at it.
That door had been open for months, ever since Alina moved out.
To see it closed now felt wrong.
He didn't like closed doors.
He always left the doors to the bedroom and bathroom open - the only doors in the house that he normally left closed were the ones in the basement.
A part of him wanted to open this one again, even if just a crack.
He remembered playing hide and seek, opening the cellar pantry.
He left the door closed.
Just to be out of the house, he left again that afternoon.
It was a cold, clear October day.
He drove around aimlessly, his mind wandering.
It was hard not to think about Alex, but he also thought about work.
He thought about Sheila leaning over his lap, and the curve of her breasts.
She'd done that on purpose, he was pretty sure, but not because she had any interest in him.
She'd wanted to prove that she could do what she wanted, and he wouldn't have the backbone to stop her.
It was a stupid power game, but he'd lost.
Alina had never done anything like that when they were dating, in college.
He wondered if it was something all women recognized as an option: using their sexuality to get their way.
It seemed like a dangerous way to live.
He knew there were men who wouldn't tolerate it, who would think of it as cock-teasing.
That was one of the things that had so attracted him to Alina.
They had never played games.
They'd always been straight with each other.
He saw the library ahead on the right, and decided to stop.
In the parking lot, he pulled out his phone and texted her.
-Thinking of you.
I love you.-
He didn't know if he was supposed to do that.
He had never been estranged before.
She wasn't living at home, but they weren't divorced.
He knew they had some things to work through.
And yes, a lot of it was his own shit.
But he was sure they could do it.
The truth was, he would go to counseling if that's what he needed to do to get things under control.
Shauna annoyed the bejesus out of him, but he could see why Alina wanted him to go.
He used to know how to handle his temper.
He could do it again.
He could be the man his wife fell in love with.