The Out

Chapter 7

David came home to dinner late as had frequently become usual. He saw Carrie playing with some blocks and cheerfully helped her make a castle. Or was it a wall? Or a box? The thing was too simple and abstract to make many firm judgments, but between his guesses and Carrie's garbled, toddler answers, they found a few possibilities they might agree on. The bedroom was closed. Was Stacy resting again? After an hour of carefree play, David decided to check on Stacy. He opened the door. It was dark; had Stacy recently gone in to nap, or had she been there since before sunset? She was asleep. Breathing; David felt like he should check for that, just in case. He didn't know how he would feel if Stacy died, but he knew he'd probably blame himself, and regret the idea that Stacy might never improve; now he held on to that hope. But tonight Stacy wouldn't improve. And though she breathed, she didn't easily respond to any of his nudges; hers was a deep sleep. He knew that if he woke her, she would move sluggishly and blame him for being hungover or still drunk. He didn't want that. So he let sleeping semi-wives lie and scrounged the fridge instead. It was mostly premade food that merely needed to be heated in a microwave or oven. He could read instructions. He settled on something he could split with Carrie. It was the most relaxed dinner he had had in a while.