Half World: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

holding Thomas to his chest, both of their bodies straining, the tight embrace in the small room. Finally Thomas would grow tired enough that they could get him dry and dressed, get him back on his tracks to his room, where he plugged himself into the imagined outlet in his wall and lay down on the floor beside his bed.
    They would stand in the doorway, Henry and Ginnie, feeling the new bruises surfacing on their arms and chests, listening to Thomas’s deepening breath, so peaceful so suddenly. Ginnie’s weight leaning into Henry, her hand on his shoulder, on the back of his neck, squeezing, holding on.
    *   *   *
    The office was nearly dark but he’d left a light on in the north bedroom. He could see it glowing on the other side of the new window. Something caught his eye, some movement beyond the glass, a figure crossing the space.
    Henry looked up. The bedroom was empty. He could see the beds, the dresser, the lamp. He walked to the window, his face close, his breath fogging the glass. No one there. Just the room, waiting.
    He finished his cigarette and returned to his desk. He removed the slip of paper from his pocket, the two numbers. He drew a line through the first, the number belonging to the Perelmans. He looked again at the window, then lifted the receiver of the new phone.

4
    Thomas on his tracks, moving through the front door, his head straight, his arms pumping, feet shuffling, the sound of his engine, the low, rhythmic rumble coming from deep within his chest. He continued into the living room, then down the hall, making a sharp turn into his bedroom. Ginnie followed to his doorway and watched him in the far corner. He expertly pantomimed the unclipping of an invisible electrical plug from his belt, then stretched the imaginary cord down to the power outlet at the base of the wall. He stood straight again, his eyes closing, his arms and hands relaxing. The machine at rest.
    She was careful as she left the doorway, stepping over the places in the hall where Thomas believed his tracks lay, mindful that he could be watching her leave, one eye open. She was back in the living room before she stopped walking on her toes, looking for rails to avoid. Sometimes she understood how easy it would be to slip into his world, to decide that if she couldn’t guide him back to this place then she could join him in his.
    She poured herself another cup of coffee and stood at the front windows, morning light warming her face, her hands. The roofs of the neighboring houses stretched down to the bay. Across the water, the top of the skyline was starting to surface through the rising fog. Henry was down in there, somewhere. Setting up his new office space, he’d told her. Trying to get the lay of the land.
    Hannah’s school was at the bottom of the hill, and once Henry had left for work, they’d made the walk, Ginnie holding Thomas’s hand and Hannah a few steps ahead, books under her arm, her gaze fixed forward, blocking out her mother and brother, refusing to acknowledge the surrounding houses of the new neighborhood, walking as if she were alone again on the route to her old school back in Arlington. They reached the front doors and Hannah disappeared inside without so much as a look back. Ginnie and Thomas made the return trip then, stopping at the train station to watch the departures and pick up some new schedules and maps. Thomas stood at the display of timetables, unfolding the pages quickly, absorbing new information, a change in an arrival time or a temporarily closed station. They had stayed until his excitement had turned to fatigue and then they had hurried home before an overtired breakdown.
    She unpacked while Thomas slept. The movers had come a few days after their arrival, and the furniture was in place, but the rooms were still ringed with boxes. She opened one and found the record player, a smaller box of LPs. She unwrapped picture frames, wiped the glass, arranged them on the mantel next to the photos