Chapter 24

26 Hours Until Monday

Alan's tears were long dried, but neither he nor Muffy had moved from his bedroom floor. He hugged one knee to his chest as he sat, his ruddy eyes staring, focused on nothing. Muffy's arm was still slung across his shoulder, and it was beginning to fall asleep. All but one of the candles had extinguished with the commotion they had caused, and strawberries lay scattered across the floor. A quick glance at Alan's bedside clock told her that it was just before ten, just as her Infinity chimed from within her handbag, which sat in a more comfortable spot atop Alan's bed. Stiffly, she unfurled herself from him and stood. Bailey had sent her a text.

The hour is getting late, Miss Muffy.

She knew what that meant. Bailey knew or suspected her parents would be back from the costume party shortly, and he was trying to usher her along so they could beat them back to the Crosswire estate. She looked at Alan, who still sat motionless, before sending her reply.

Coming down. We need handkerchiefs, please.

She crossed the room and switched on his overhead, then blew out the lone, still-burning candle before speaking softly to him.

"Get up."

Alan said nothing, did nothing.

"Come on," she persisted gently. "We need to move. We need to get this cleaned up and get out of here before it's too late."

"You should just leave me," Alan said, his voice low and hoarse.

"I already told you I won't be doing that," she said as she stooped to level her eyeline with his, "and I'm not breaking my promise."

"Maybe you should. Clearly, my promise isn't worth much."

"It's not Monday yet, is it? There's still twenty-four hours for you to make good on it."

She offered her hand to him.

"Twenty-six hours, actually," he said, regarding her hand before taking it and allowing her to help him stand, "technically longer if you count the hours before my appointment."

"There's that nitpicking spirit. We need to hurry. Bailey is waiting."

Muffy grabbed her handbag and was thankful she had not switched to something smaller during the week. Alan picked up the queen first and put it back on his desk, and then he knelt to put the strawberries back into their container. Muffy collected the candles and shoved them, one by one, into her purse, knowing full well that the wax on one of them was still soft enough to rub off onto the supple leather interior. There went her favorite Olivier reversible, but she could hardly care at the moment.

The limo was back, parked in front of the Powers residence, and Bailey stood at the ready on the sidewalk next to it, holding two handkerchiefs, both freshly soaked with water. Her butler was unable to mask his concern. His expression wavered, as he must have gotten a better look at them in the light of the streetlamp.

"Are the two of you all right?" he said.

"We're fine," Muffy said to him, taking the handkerchiefs, and she knew her tone was not convincing.

"May I be of further assistance, Miss Muffy?"

"I'll take it from here, thank you."

After applying the handkerchief to his face and downing two bottles of grapefruit Perrier on the ride to the Crosswire estate, Alan's eyes were less red, and he seemed less lethargic. Still, he looked drained and remained mostly quiet, and so Muffy decided not to push things and told him to have a seat in the den while she set the scene for her parents' arrival. Much like Alan's parents, hers had expected them to hang around for the night under Bailey's supervision and watch movies. Bailey fetched popcorn and sodas for them while she set up a movie to play on the enormous flat screen. She was not big on horror. No one in the family was except for Chip, and he still had a collection of DVDs left behind in the den. She neither knew nor cared which one played, but she did not think that it was wise to choose one that had a lot of death or ghosts. With that in mind, she plucked The Squirrels from the lot.

They were not very far into the movie when her parents came home. When she heard that her father had hired a driver for the evening, Muffy had known what to expect when they showed up at the end of the night. Her mother and father stumbled through the mansion and stopped by the den before going up to bed, her father dressed as Uncle Sam while her mother was Lady Liberty. It would seem they had sorted out their costume differences for this party, though their apparel hung a bit disheveled, and they had traded headpieces. Her mother wore Sam's star-spangled stovepipe, and her father donned Liberty's crown. It was unclear whether the mix-up had been unintentional or just a bit of fun. It must have been some party, for they were more than a little tipsy.

Her father had given Muffy and Alan a boisterous, "Hi-ya, kids—oops!" He made an embarrassed face as his glassy gaze came to light on Alan, who, unbeknownst to Muffy, sat at the end of the sectional sofa, sound asleep.

"Sorry," her father recovered, whispering loudly. "We'll just be going up, then. Goodnight, sweetums."

"Love you, dear," her mother said with a wave of her hand, which was clutching her pumps. "Don't stay up too late, okay?"

Once they were gone, Muffy scooted over to Alan, prepared to wake him gently, but he spoke as soon as she laid hands on his arm.

"I'm not asleep. I just didn't feel like talking to anyone."

She understood. It had been a smart move on his part.

"When do you think—" she began just as Alan's text alert sounded.

"It looks like Mom and Dad are leaving Erie as we speak," he said, once he had read the message. He rapidly typed his response as he explained, "I'm telling them to have a great night and that I will likely be in bed by the time they get home. I think it's better that way."

Once finished, he took an awkward pause and glanced around the den before, finally, "I'd better be off."

"We'd better be off," said Muffy, standing and retrieving the Infinity from the coffee table.

Alan did not look thrilled at the news.

"Didn't your mom tell you not to stay up late?"

"They'll both be out cold in, like, two minutes. They won't even know I'm gone."

"It's not necessary, Muffy."

"To me, it is."

Alan fell silent for most of the ride. Muffy worried about leaving him alone in this state. After a few minutes of dead air, she could take it no longer.

"Are you okay?"

"You know my okay-ness is in a constant state of flux…" he said dully. "Why are you looking at me like that? Sympathetic… I can't believe you aren't mad."

"I'm very mad. At Prunella."

"But not me?"

"What for?"

"For losing it?" he offered. "For making you go through all that trouble for nothing? For making you feel like you should be babysitting me? Any or all of those things."

Once again, the limo came to a stop in front of the Powers residence.

"Whatever," Muffy said. "I'm here because I want to be here. I should be mad at myself for being so clueless. If I could think of just one thing that would actually help you, I'd do it in a heartbeat, I swear."

Alan opened the door then stopped. "There might be something you can do…"

"Really?" Muffy said, leaning forward eagerly. "Name it."

Alan got out and motioned for her to join him.

"Come up to my room for a couple of minutes."

"Um, what?"

Once more, she followed Alan to his room, where he took a book from a shelf. Brief Answers to the Big Questions was its title, which did nothing to clear Muffy's confusion until he opened it. Tucked in the middle was a short stack of small, narrow-ruled pages, and from the look of the ragged edges, all had been torn from a different book. Alan picked up the stack and showed them to Muffy.

"These are from my pocket journal, everything I've written about Lydia since beginning my sessions with Dr. Hartmann-Krause. Your assessment was correct: I've been BS-ing my way through therapy. It's… she is difficult to process. Always has been. That's why I quit therapy the first time. I preferred to hide and tinker with things I could fix. However, hiding is pointless because it's always with me."

He reached into his back pocket and took out what had to be the infamous pocket journal, mentioned a few times by Alan but never seen by Muffy until today. It was hardly longer than a drinks coaster, and its once-glossy black cover was now worn from travel and abuse.

"It doesn't matter where it's stowed away, all of it is always with me, including her."

He flipped open the journal and stuffed the loose pages about Lydia in the middle before snapping it closed.

"She once joked that I was so stubborn it would be to my detriment one day… No more failed attempts at hiding. Here."

She was stunned to see that he was holding the pocket journal out to her.

"I don't understand, Alan."

"I want you to take it. If you would, please keep it safe until Monday afternoon and meet me at Dr. Hartmann-Krause's office with it."

"Do you even know what you're asking?" Muffy said. "This is your private…stuff, and you're just going to leave it unguarded? I could read everything."

"It's not unguarded. I'm terrified and exhausted and I know I need help, but I'm not sure how much I trust myself right now. However, I do trust you. Do what you want with it; just make sure it gets into my doctor's hands."

Muffy was on the verge of tears. As she took the journal out of his hands, she wanted to tell him how much his faith in her meant, but she decided to let it go for now. For now, she could just be proud of him.

"I will," she said, pulling Alan close and hugging him tightly before departing.

To be continued…