11. RIBBONS
He's going mad. The last ribbons of sanity are slowly unfurling before his eyes, black as her hair, brittle as her smile. He wakes in the middle of the night and can sense Maggie's presence in the gloomy half-light. Her accusations still taint the very air he breathes, poisoning it like a chemical weapon. He wants her to go, he wants her to stay, he wants, he wants...
On Sunday, he visits his parents. He's learned that avoiding them has awkward consequences: tearful phone calls, embarrassing visits, sympathy in their eyes that make him want to gouge them out. So, he pretends, tells wholesome tales about his therapy, mentions friends who have long since given up. His lies give them peace but cause him to squirm under their scrutiny. He's forever digging a hole from which he will never resurface.
"We're thinking of a cruise for Thanksgiving," his mother tells him. He nods quickly; unsure whether it's an invite or information. "Just a few days, to get away. I can't stand the thought of another holiday here."
Of course she can't, none of them can. Maggie's death was a targeted missile. Aimed at causing the most devastation in a small area. She succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
"Alice is coming, aren't you?"
He looks up into his sister's eyes. Piercing blue, like a cloudless day. They tell him she knows, she can see right through him. To the blackness that lies beneath.
"Yes, that's right."
"What about you, Edward? Will you join us?" His mother leans forward almost eagerly. He thinks of stormy seas and shipwrecked vessels…and nearly agrees. But the thought of five solid days with his family makes him shiver.
"I've agreed to spend it with a colleague." He rarely speaks when here; his voice causes them to jump. He avoids looking at Alice, choosing his easily-fooled mother instead. She beams widely at his revelation.
"That's wonderful." It's as if he's told her he's won the lottery. She positively vibrates with excitement. "Do I know them?"
He shakes his head and mumbles, staring down at his plate. "Nobody you know." It's a lie and he knows it. Alice knows it too; he can tell from her sigh. He's never been a good liar, not good enough, anyway.
If he'd been good enough maybe everything would've been different.
Maybe Maggie wouldn't be dead.