Fever Dream: A Novel(9)

This clearly leads us right to the exact moment.

Carla gestures, raising her hands as if she doesn’t understand what is happening. And I have a terrifying feeling of doom.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask her, shouting.

“He’s in your house. David is in your house.”

“What do you mean, he’s in my house?”

Carla points toward my daughter’s room, on the second floor. The palm of a hand is pressed against the glass, and then Nina appears, smiling: she must be on a stool or her desk. She sees me and waves through the glass. She looks cheerful and calm, and for a moment I am grateful that my sense of dread isn’t working right, that it was all a false alarm.

But it wasn’t.

No. Nina says something that I can’t hear, and she repeats it, using her hands as a megaphone, excited. Then I remember that when I left the house all the windows had been open because of the heat, upstairs and downstairs. Now they are all shut tight.

“Do you have a key?” asks Carla. “I couldn’t open either of the doors.”

I walk toward the house, almost running, and Carla runs behind me.

“We have to get in fast,” says Carla.

This is insane, I think. David is just a little boy. But I can’t help it now, I’m running. I dig in my pocket for the keys and I’m so nervous that even though I have them between my fingers, I can’t get them out.

“Hurry, hurry,” says Carla.

I have to get away from this woman, I tell myself as I finally manage to get the keys out. I open the door and let her in behind me; she follows me very closely. This is terror itself, entering a house I still barely know in search of my daughter, so afraid I can’t even utter her name. I race up the stairs, and Carla follows me. Whatever is happening must be truly terrible to finally get your mother to come inside the house.

“Hurry, hurry,” she says.

I have to get this woman out of my house right now. We go up the first flight of stairs in two or three steps, then the second. The hallway has two rooms to either side. There is no one in the first, the one Nina was waving from, and I stay there an instant longer than necessary because I have the idea they could be hiding. In the second room I don’t see them either; I look in corners and unlikely places, as if, secretly, my mind were preparing to face something immense.

The third room is mine. Like the previous ones, the door is closed, and I open it quickly, taking a few steps into the room. It’s David. So this is David, I say to myself. I see you, for the first time.

Yes.

You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking toward the door like you’re waiting for us. Maybe even wondering what all the fuss is about.

“Where is Nina?” I ask you.

You don’t answer.

I don’t know where Nina is right then, and I don’t know you.

“Where is Nina?” I repeat, shouting.

You aren’t frightened or surprised at my excitement. You seem tired, bored. If it weren’t for the white spots you have on your skin, you’d be a normal, everyday boy. That’s what I thought.

“Mommy.” It’s Nina’s voice.

I turn back toward the hallway. She is holding Carla’s hand and she looks at me fearfully.

“What’s wrong?” asks Nina, wrinkling her forehead, about to start crying.

“Are you okay? Are you okay, Nina?” I ask.

Nina hesitates, but maybe that’s because she sees how furious I am, indignant with Carla and all of her madness.

“This is crazy,” I tell your mother. “You’re completely insane.”

Nina pulls away from Carla.

You’re all alone, I tell myself. You’d better get this woman out of the house as soon as possible.

“Things always end up like this with David.” Carla’s eyes fill with tears.

“David didn’t do anything!” And now I’m really shouting, now I’m the one who seems crazy. “You’re the one scaring us with all your delusions of . . .”

I look at you. Your eyes are red, and the skin around your eyes and mouth is a little thinner than is normal, a little pinker.

“Get out.” I say it to Carla, but I’m looking at you.

“Let’s go, David.”

Your mother doesn’t wait for you. She walks away and goes downstairs. She walks upright, elegant in her red dress and gold bikini. I feel Nina’s hand, small and soft, carefully take my own. You don’t move.

“Go with your mother,” I tell you.

You don’t refuse or answer. You’re just there, as though switched off. I’m annoyed that you don’t move, but I’m more annoyed by Carla now, and I decide to go down and make sure she leaves the house. I have to do it slowly, waiting for Nina, who doesn’t want to let go of my hand. Now in the kitchen, before going out, Carla turns around to say something to me, but my look dissuades her and she leaves in silence. Is this the exact moment?

No, this isn’t the exact moment.

It’s hard when I don’t know what I’m looking for.

It’s something in the body. But it’s almost imperceptible, we have to pay attention.

That’s why the details are so important.

Yes, that’s why.

But how could I let them get between us so quickly? How can it be that leaving Nina alone for a few minutes, sleeping, could mean so much danger and madness?