Henry Franks(24)

One after the other, he cleaned the tips and pushed the pins back into the wall. A branch skittered across the window, sounding like rats behind the wallboards, and he dropped the last one. Crawling beneath the desk, amid the computer cables and dust, he couldn’t find it.

When his phone rang, still in his backpack, Henry cracked his head against the bottom of the desk. He rubbed his scalp, and his fingers came away sticky with fresh blood. He pulled the phone out and flipped it open before pulling the tissues back out of the garbage and holding them to the back of his head.

“Henry?” Justine’s voice was almost too soft to hear as she whispered into the phone.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Sorry, that wasn’t what I meant to say.”

She laughed. “What did you mean to say?”

“Give me a moment, I’m sure I’ll come up with something clever to say eventually … it’s late, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Henry, it’s late. I was watching your father putting food out on the stoop and figured I’d call.”

“Has anyone eaten it?”

“No,” she said. “But the food’s still there. I’ll keep watching for a while.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s not a problem.” She started to laugh but cut the sound short. “I’ve sort of been banished to my room.”

“Banished?”

“Exiled? Is that a better term?” she asked. “You know, I came home late today because I was at a friend’s house helping him with his homework.” She stressed the last word and then laughed again.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not the end of the world, not yet at least.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I can sort of see your window from here,” she said.

“You’re spying on me?”

“I would be if the trees weren’t in the way—I can barely see your yard between leaves and Spanish moss. It’s like living in the jungle.”

Even over the phone, he could hear the knock on her door.

“Bye,” she said, softer than a whisper, and then she was gone.



When he looked out his window, the sharp angle blocked any possible view of the stoop where his father had left the food, and too many trees to count covered Justine’s house in shadows too dark to see through. Henry lay down, but when he closed his eyes, he saw the black-and-white pictures of Frank playing in a loop through his memories. He dug his palms into his eyes, trying to banish the photographs, but only managed to start a nosebleed from the movement.

Once more, he fished the tissues out of the garbage. He watched shadows cross the ceiling while squeezing his nose shut to stem the blood.

Frank Franks?

“Henry Franks.” He spoke so softly the words were nothing more than a breath of sound, but neither of the names sounded familiar.

Sleep fought him off for a long time, his numb hand resting uselessly on his chest. Just as he thought he might be about to fall asleep, he jerked awake. A quiet hissing sound, high-pitched and frustrated, cut through the hum of the air-conditioning. Henry rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head to drown out the noise.



Elizabeth is there, waiting for me. Her smile, meant for me alone, brings out the sun from behind the low clouds racing across the sky. In my arms, she’s light as a feather, floating free and away and I can only watch as the shadows return. Still, she smiles, always smiling, and in return, I smile back. It’s the least I can do.

The park is filled with kids, strollers sailing down the riverbanks into the sunset until Elizabeth and I are almost alone. A knife-edge of lightning slices through the clouds, down and down until there is nothing between the energy and the earth but me.

“Daddy, no!” Elizabeth screams as I burn alive.

She is there, waiting for me with a smile. A balloon pops in the distance. Shreds of red latex flutter to the ground in the hazy sunshine. Another. Scraps wrap around my skin.

Pop!

I swallow the balloons, the colors mixing and merging into blackness.

“Daddy, no!”

She is there. I run to her but can’t reach her side. She smiles, but not for me. Laughs, at me, but I can’t hear a sound. Water bubbles out of my mouth as I try to call her name. Between us, fish swim in and out of view with long tails and each of them smiles at me as they float by. The hook catches the edge of my lips, tugging upwards until I am finally smiling with them.

“Daddy, no!” Elizabeth screams as I drown.

She is nowhere to be found. I search an empty park on a day with no sun and a night with no moon in a sky with no clouds. In the distance, I hear her scream ‘Daddy!’ but I can’t find her. I run so fast I barely touch the ground, until I forget how to run at all and trip over feet I no longer recognize and no longer feel.

Someone’s there, helping me up, but it’s not my daughter. Too old, and I can’t see her face in the shadows and I can’t focus on her. She’s there, keeping secrets from me and hiding Elizabeth away and I can’t stop myself from hating her even as she tries to help me.

“Daddy, no!” Elizabeth screams in the distance as I wrap someone else’s fingers around the stranger’s throat.