fora while, k get it out of my mind. The whole experience was so
clear to me, as though it had only happened days ago. And it was
strange, because I could remember want/ngto get caught in there. That
was why the flashlight was on. I'd had it trained right on the window,
for no good reason at all except that I must have known somebody would
see it and wonder. I'd wanted somebody to know. I think I was even
aware of it at the time, without understanding why I'd want to risk
that, why I felt that way.
I thought I knew now what the fantasy was about. It was a kind of
declaration to myself as to where things stood with me. The reserve.
The need for emotional safety. Yet as early as six years ago, I'd
broken into a stranger's house and thrown a flashlight beam on the
living room window. Even that far back I must have known what my
little reserve was worth.
We were quiet going back to Dead River. I didn't take her home. Even
at four in the morning it would be quite a scene there. A rock through
a neighbor's window would be nearly impossible to forgive. And Casey
wouldn't want forgiveness anyway.
We went to my apartment instead.
We climbed the stairs yawning. And Casey turned back to me and
murmured, "Sounds like fun."
"What does?"
I knew what she meant. It made me cold inside. But I went through the
motions anyway.
"Breaking and entering."
I said nothing. I opened the door for her. She stepped inside and
faced me. The smile was sleepy but the eyes were filled with broken
light. I didn't even bother to argue the point. I knew where it would
lead us. It was where we'd been going, anyway, all along.
"I want to do it."
The tendrils of fog had followed us from the graveyard. They slid
around my throat again like soft wet claws, caressing me, turning my
spit to acid.
"And I know just the place for it too. The perfect place."
"You do?"