He must never know. I crawled across the floor to the bed; pulled myself up, lay prone across it. I planned the next week of my life in a few painful minutes, appalled at my own monstrous selfishness as I did so. Keeping Tolliver with me for one more minute was an awful thing to do.
But I couldn't let go, I argued with myself. If I suddenly shooed him away, he'd suspect something as sure as shooting. I just couldn't do it. In a week or so, when I could figure out the right way. Until then, hold myself carefully; guard my every action.
Life, which had seemed like such a rich crazy quilt laid out before me, suddenly assumed a grayer prospect. I climbed into the hotel bed, as I had climbed into hundreds of hotel beds.
I stared at the ceiling, at the bar of light from somewhere below that crossed it, at the bright red eye of the smoke detector. For hours I tried to remap my life. But I didn't have a clue which direction to go.
fifteen
I was more like a zombie than a person when I came out of my room the next day. Tolliver was eating breakfast, and he poured me a cup of coffee without a word. I went over to the table cautiously, sinking into my chair with as much relief as if I'd negotiated a minefield. He glanced up from his paper, gave me a horrified look.
"Are you sick?" he asked. "God, you look like something the cat dragged in!"
That actually made me feel much better. If he'd said something sweet, I'd have lost it then and there, grabbed hold of him, and sobbed all over his shirt front.
"I didn't have a good night," I said, very carefully. "I didn't sleep."
"No shit. I can kind of tell. You better get out your makeup."
"Thanks for the boost, Tolliver."
"Well, I'm just saying. We don't want the coroner mistaking you for the corpse."
"Okay, enough." Somehow, I felt much better after this exchange.
Tolliver had been reading the paper, and he shoved it over to me. He was not going to say anything about my strange behavior of the night before, apparently. "Not much about Tabitha today. I guess it's getting cold."
"About time." I picked up my coffee cup with a shaking hand, managed to get the edge of the cup to my lips without spilling anything. I took a long sip, set the cup down with just as much care. Tolliver had kept the sports section, and he was involved with a basketball story, so he didn't witness this embarrassing weakness. I exhaled, felt some relief, and took a steadier drink. Okay, caffeine was a good thing. I got a croissant out of the basket, knew I'd regret it later, and ate the whole thing in about forty-five seconds.
"Good," was Tolliver's only comment. "You could use some body fat."
"You're just a bundle of compliments this morning," I said tartly. I felt much better now. Suddenly I felt a surge of optimism, with even less ground than I'd felt my deep depression of the night before. I'd been overly dramatic, right? This was okay. We were all right. Everything would be the same.
I ate another croissant. I even buttered it.
"Are you going to run?" Tolliver asked mildly.
"No," I said.
"You're just a party animal today. Croissants and no running! How's the leg today?"
"Fine. Just fine."
There was a long pause.
"You were acting kind of weird last night," he said.
"Ah. Lot to think about," I said vaguely, waving the last piece of croissant in an arc to indicate the breadth of my thought.
"I hope that worked out for you," he said. "You scared me a little."
"Sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice light and airy. "A sudden attack of thoughtfulness will do that to you."
"Um-hum." He stared at me, his dark eyes full of his own thoughtfulness.
The cell phone rang when he'd gone back to his newspaper story, and I reached over to answer it. Somehow his hand was there before mine, and I wondered what was happening with him. We were sure being mysterious with each other, these days.
"Tolliver Lang," he said.
"All right," he said, after a moment.
"Where is that?" he asked next.
"All right, we'll be there in forty-five minutes," he said, before folding the phone shut.
He looked at me, somehow harder and sadder than before.
"The family gave permission," he said. "We can go see the body now."
I got up and walked into my room to get dressed without another word.
When I came out twenty minutes later, I was clean and my clothes were fresh, but that was about all I could say. Despite Tolliver's advice, I didn't fool with makeup, and I only ran a brush through my hair. I wore it short, since I couldn't have dealt with a lot of hair to arrange, some days; today was definitely one of those days. I'd pulled on the top sweater in my suitcase, which was cream-colored, and the top pair of jeans, and the top pair of socks. Luckily, I only carry things that can coordinate, because otherwise I would have looked like I'd dressed in the dark.
Tolliver was about on par with me sartorially, and he hugged me when I emerged, ready to go. I was so surprised that I hugged him back for a moment, feeling thankful and grateful for him, as I always did. Then I realized what I was doing, and I froze, every muscle in my body going tense. I could feel the change in him when he realized that something was wrong between us.
"What have I done?" he asked, pulling away, looking down at me. "What have I done to you?"
I couldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing," I muttered. "Let's just get this over with."
The car was full of an uneasy silence as we followed the directions Tolliver had been given. Before I had time to calm myself and prepare mentally, we were at the morgue. There were so many dead inside, and they were so fresh, that the vibrations gathered in intensity and strength. When I got out of the car, I was already feeling a little light on my feet. I know we went in, and I know we talked to a few people, but later I remembered nothing. By the time we walked down a corridor I was humming from my head to my toes. I could hardly note my physical surroundings as we followed the very heavy, very young woman leading us to the body we'd come to see. Her big rear swayed in front of me as she walked, and her lank dark hair switched from side to side. She hadn't bothered with makeup, and her clothes were strictly thrift shop. This must be a job that sucked the hope out of you.
The young woman knocked at a door that looked no different from any of the other doors. She must have heard a reply, because she held the door open and we went inside. A sandy-haired man in a lab coat said, "Hi." He was standing against the wall. There were two gurneys in the room. The lump on one of them was far bigger than the lump on the other. Tolliver gasped and coughed from the smell. Even through the heavy plastic covering the bodies, the odor was pervasive.
I said, "Tolliver, you can go," but I knew he wouldn't.
I introduced myself and Tolliver.
"Dr. Lyle Hatton," the man said. He was very tall and gawky, and he had a way of looking down through his glasses that registered as contemptuous.
His dislike and scorn was something I could ignore in the face of the overwhelming thrumming.
I started to lift the plastic so I could touch Tabitha's body directly, but Lyle Hatton said, "Gloves!"
He was annoying. I had a mission here, and the vibrations were resounding so loudly that I could hardly comprehend what he wanted. It seemed my choice was either touching her through the plastic sheet, or putting on plastic gloves. I wasn't aware I'd ever thought about the barriers between me and a corpse, and classified them. Cotton would have been better than plastic for my purpose, I knew instinctively.
But I wasn't being given that option. So I lay my hand on the plastic sheet, over the area where her heart should have been; of course, the shape under the sheet was not a full shape anymore, not after eighteen months in the ground. Immediately, I fell into Tabitha's last moments: woken from sleep, a nap. Seeing a blue cushion, descending. Feeling… betrayal, disbelief, horror, NO NO NO NO Mama save me save me save me.