The next day Bill and Audra hardly spoke to each other. After nearly fifteen years together, Audra knew Bill's tendency to moody secretiveness when he was working on a project. Today, the day of the premiere her husband had been planning for almost two years, she expected him to be a little off-kilter in his emotions.

But last night had scared her. That night Bill had mumbled more than ever in his sleep, so much that she herself had been unable to rest. She could make out only snatches of what he was saying...something about spiders, desperate apologies to someone named Georgie, and an almost unearthly screaming about something unknown

(?deadlights?)

Whatever was disturbing Bill's sleep, it was bothering her as well. Bothering her very much.

Bill stood in the kitchen, dressed in a somber, almost funereal black suit. His blue eyes looked utterly lost behind the lenses of his spectacles. Even the slight touch of her hand on his arm made him jump noticeably. Pre-show nerves were one thing, but the blanched paleness of Bill's face was beginning to frighten her.

"What on earth are you so worried about? You seemed so confident just a few days ago."

"N-nothing."

The fear in his voice found its reflection in Audra's eyes. "Bill?"

Bill pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, as though physically trying to hold his mind together. "Do you...do you remember when I went to Maine?"

"Maine? Bill, you have to tell me what's going on. I don't think I can take much more of this." She placed both of her hands on his shoulders, trying to get him to look her in the eye. She might as well have tried to comfort a statue. "Please, let me know what's wrong."

"It was only last year. You must remember something," Bill replied in that same stony, distant voice.

"You haven't been to Maine in years," Audra said, shaking her head in bewilderment. How could he be talking about this out-of-the-blue nonsense? It was the night of the premiere, the one Bill had been so obsessed with making perfect. And now he was talking about imagined jaunts to Maine. It didn't make any sense.

Then again, lots of things hadn't been making sense to Audra lately. Like the fact that when she actually thought back on the past year, something it had never occurred for her to do, the images there were dark and blurred. The only thing she could remember concretely was a dim and persistent feeling of dread...the dread of knowing what was lurking behind the haze of her forgetfulness.

Bill must have noticed the uncertainty in her voice. He leaned forward and gently took her lips in his. She returned the kiss.

"After tonight," Bill murmured in her ear. "After tonight, I promise I'll tell you every thing I know."