Raveling Read Online Free Page B

detonated a bomb at a local high school. Innocent animals were being tortured, it turned out, in the name of science.
     A group of scientists had found a way to extend the existence of human cells far beyond their natural life. There was reason
     for alarm, celebration, and dismay. My brother adjusted the balance. He fine-tuned the reception. This was, after all, a Blaupunkt.
     He drove his Jaguar sedan evenly, deliberately, the engine droning like a politician’s speech.
    “Mom,” he said during a commercial break, “do me a favor. Cover each eye and then tell me if you see any ghosts.”
    Our mother covered her right eye. “Ghosts,” she said.
    “Now your other one.”
    “More ghosts.”
    Eric nodded.
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means that it’s probably neurological. Aside from seeing double images, do things seem unfocused?”
    It was cancer.
    “Blurry?” she asked.
    “Yes, blurry.”
    She said, “Maybe a little.”
    They pulled into Hannah’s driveway. They did not notice the woods receding into the background, slipping away from the house
     like a wave returning to the ocean, like one animal that has been stalking another and isn’t quite ready to strike. Like the
     meaning of a word that escapes you. They got out of Eric’s car. “Can you walk okay?”
    “I can
walk
,” our mother said. “For Christ’s sake, I can walk.”
    “I’m just trying to help.”
    “I’m not dead yet,” she snapped.
    “Would you relax?”
    “Where’s Pilot? Where the hell is your brother?”
    I had twisted the shoelace around and around my finger until I felt like it would explode. I huddled down against the rough,
     damp trunk of a tree so no one could detect me. I knew what she meant. I knew exactly what our mother meant.
    I wasn’t dead yet, either.

    They waited. Hannah paced back and forth across the old blue-and-white oriental carpet, humming nervously, her eyes unfocused,
     her ankles making that
crick-crick-cricking
sound. Eric sat on the old blue couch with his elbows on his knees and his fingers touching each other, tip to tip, like
     a spider and its reflection, his eyes on the door. It’s hard for me to imagine what he was expecting at this moment. Would
     I walk through the door, sneakers covered in mud? Would I stay gone forever? He went to the kitchen and straightened things
     up, compulsively washing the cups in the sink, the pot of coffee on the stove. Had he been in this kitchen only this morning?
     When he went back out to the living room, our mother was holding the door open,peering into the dark front yard. “Mom, he probably won’t even come in that way.” Eric walked to the door and pulled it closed.
     She sighed and went back to pacing across the oriental.
    Eventually, my brother suggested she take an aspirin and lie down, that it might make the ghosts go away. She nodded, finding
     a blue Valium in her purse. But she couldn’t lie down, she said.
    “I have to go.” Eric held his hands out.
    “Go,” she said.
    And Eric left.
    And so she waited alone, ghosts everywhere, doubles of everything.
    And by eight o’clock I was still gone.
    And by nine.
    And by ten o’clock that night our mother had waited long enough. Long enough, she told herself.
    At eleven she called Eric.
    “He’s not back yet?” My brother’s voice was filled with incredulity, but not panic.
    “I thought he might have taken the car to your house.”
Her
voice was panicked.
    “No,” Eric said. “He’s not here. Besides, does he even
have
a set of keys for the Mercedes? And why would he come here?”
    Our mother made a high-pitched whimpering noise.
    “Mom,” Eric said. “Stay calm.”
    “Where is he?”
    “He probably took the car somewhere.” Eric sighed. “I’ll drive by and see if it’s still out there.”
    But I hadn’t taken the car.
    I was in the woods, experiencing one amazing realization after another.
    I was comprehending things.
    Understanding
.
    Our mother sat in Dad’s old blue