Nothing to See Here (57)

“Oh, okay,” Bessie finally said, trying to get on with it. “Like, your soul?”

“No, dear,” he said, chuckling. “Not quite.”

“Dr. Cannon,” Carl said, “we need to get go—”

“So, the Holy Spirit,” Dr. Cannon interrupted, moving on, still staring at the children, “resides in your heart. And so, if you children are experiencing these moments where the fire manifests itself externally, well, that could mean quite a few things. Perhaps you are prophets, chosen by God—”

“We really must be going,” Carl said.

“Prophets?” Roland said, trying out the word, liking the sound of it.

“You might be envoys for the second coming of Jesus Christ, our lord and savior,” the doctor elaborated.

“Carl?” I said.

“Or—and this is quite radically different—it could be a case where the devil, in his multitudinous evil, is warring with the Holy Spirit inside you. That would make you, Bessie and Roland, demons. Or, perhaps, simply possessed by demons. Whatever the case, it is possible that there is an evil inside you, one that must be purged.”

“Okay,” I said, “no way.” I reached for the kids, pulling them off the table.

“But I want to hear more,” Roland said.

“Thank you, Dr. Cannon,” Carl quickly said, opening the door to the office, leading the children outside. “Ketosis. Very good. We have all we need.”

“Say hello to Jasper for me,” he said, waving. “He was always such a wonderful patient. I can’t remember a time when he was sick.”

We hustled the children into the car, and Carl quickly pulled back onto the road. I stared at him, but the sunglasses made it hard for me to really see him. “Who wants the radio?” he asked, turning it on without waiting for a response, which made Roland cheer.

“That was a mistake,” he admitted to me, keeping his voice down. “I don’t know that Senator Roberts has been in contact with Dr. Cannon in quite some time. I don’t think he knows the full extent of his, uh, condition.”

I didn’t say a word, just kept staring at him.

“He’s one of the most revered doctors in the entire state,” Carl continued. “All the governors and country music stars, he was their physician. All kinds of published articles.”

“Fascinating,” I replied.

“I’m just doing what the Robertses have told me to do,” Carl said, looking back to make sure the kids weren’t listening. “And, honestly, the real doctors, the specialists who saw the kids right after Jane died, they didn’t have much else to tell us. I think one of them even mentioned ketosis. So, no harm done.”

“Now the kids think they might be demons,” I told him.

“Well, I don’t know how much of that they understood.” He quickly turned back to the kids. “Double-scoop sundaes, okay?” he said.

I groaned and turned off the radio. I looked back at them. They both seemed bored, but I could see them working through something in their heads, passing it back and forth. “Look,” I finally said, “you are not demons, okay? No fucking way. That man was crazy.”

“Maybe we’re prophets, though,” Roland offered.

“No,” I said, my voice rising. “You’re just normal kids, okay? You catch on fire, but you’re normal kids.”

“Okay,” Bessie replied. “We believe you.”

“Okay,” I said. For a few miles, we drove in silence, but then Roland started to giggle. I turned back around. Bessie’s face looked both pained and relieved at the same time. She looked at me. She started to laugh a little, too. “We’re not demons,” she said, and I shook my head. And I knew that they were my kids, that I protected them, because they believed me. For right now, in this car, they trusted me. They were not demons.



That night, blanketed in children, I heard Madison whispering above me. “Lil,” she said, and I thought it was a dream because, honestly, I dreamed about Madison a lot.

“Yeah?” I said.

“I’m back,” she said, still whispering. “Timothy and I just flew home. Come with me. Let’s hang out. Let’s talk.”

I realized that she was real, and I felt myself waking up. I looked at her. I couldn’t make out her features, only her form, in the dim light from the bathroom in the hallway.

“The kids will wake up,” I said.

“No, they won’t,” she said. “Just come on.” She sounded like maybe she was drunk, her voice kind of husky.

“Bessie?” I whispered, and the girl shrugged away from me before turning back over and opening her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

“Madison is here,” I said, gesturing to Madison, who waved.

“What do you want?” Bessie asked.

“Lillian,” Madison replied. “Just for a little while.”

“I’ll be back soon,” I told her. “Just keep sleeping.”

“Okay,” Bessie said. “I guess so.”

I slipped out of the bed, Roland snoring hard, and followed Madison as she tiptoed from the room. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants on the way out, some sneakers.