MINUTES PASSED.
Aidan took his hand away.
Bob came back, through the door of himself, and opened his eyes and looked out. Tears flowed like meltwater from his eyes, like a glacier that has been warmed by the sun, and has become a river.
“Really?” he said.
“Really,” said Aidan.
Bob closed his eyes.
“What?” said Emily. “What did you show him?”
“It is impossible to explain,” said Aidan. “And now I am tired. We will sleep. Another time, I will show you too.”
She smiled at him. “OK,” she said.
Bob was smiling too, through his tears. “Thank you,” he said to Aidan. “That’s the best gift I ever had.”
Aidan nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for helping to get me home.”
And with that, he climbed onto the bed and rolled over and closed his eyes.
Wait, thought Emily. We’re not leaving? Something in her gut told her this was wrong. She was glad Bob had experienced…whatever he’d experienced, glad she’d had that moment with Aidan, floating in the snow, but they had to run.
Or Aidan was going to end up on an operating table.
What could she do, though? It was dark and cold out there. In here, the kid was warm. And resting.
Bob tried to help with the cleaning up, but Emily wouldn’t let him. “Get some rest,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”
And she did: she took care of the dishes. But she wasn’t sure if she could take care of anything else. Aidan looked so small, curled up there, so fragile. Bob was asleep now too, lying back in a chair. His breathing rattled in his chest. It was pitch-dark outside the windows. No. She wasn’t sure she could take care of anything at all; not really.
She kept her eyes open. What was she going to do—really? She had only thought as far as getting Aidan out of town, if she was honest with herself.
She could: go with Aidan to space.
She could: run away to New York, to dance. Maybe go to Juilliard, and learn to do it professionally.
She could: live in the wild with Bob and catch fish for every meal and sleep every night in the cabin, and cook everything with fire, for the rest of her life.
She couldn’t: say goodbye to Aidan.
But she couldn’t go back, either.
She was trapped.
Story of her life.
She lay there a long time, looking at the whorls in the wood of the ceiling—spirals, galaxies, eyes.
Then the noise outside—and she knew. Sound of footsteps on gravel. The men were coming for them, right now. Aidan’s eyes snapped open. They glittered in the half dark.
Her gut feeling had been right. They’d stayed here too long.