I tell Gary that there will be arrivals and he tells me I need to get more sleep.
“But there will be arrivals,” I say. “I hear them.”
I realize telling Gary is probably not a good idea, so I pretend it was a dream. I sit up and shake my head. I say, “Did I just say something?”
Gary says, “I don’t think so.”
“I just had the weirdest dream,” I say. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“Huh,” I say. Then I go into the kitchen to make myself tea while Gary goes to the bathroom. He’s loud when he shits. It’s one of the many things I hate about him.
There is no marriage here. Just housing arrangements. Cooking schedules. Roommates with benefits. Gary isn’t even my friend. I’m a convenience and he’s a philosopher who’s convinced that the real world was only made for dumb people. He hasn’t realized yet that he’s dumb, too.
I sit at the kitchen table and send a message to the arrivals. I say, Turn back! This is a prison! But I think of the possibility of departure and realize it could be my turn.
Gary never knew about Kenneth and me. To Gary, Kenneth was just the nudist—an artist incapable of social interaction on Gary’s level. The nudist lived in his own hut, by himself. He didn’t like visitors. That’s all Gary knew.
The flush sounds and Gary is in the kitchen.
“Coming to breakfast today?” he asks.
I hold my head. “This migraine is coming on again. I think I might skip it.”
“Want me to bring you something back?”
“Sure. Whatever,” I say. “I’m going to lie down for a while.”
When he leaves, I pull out the last thing Kenneth ever gave me. A small carved letter P. He carved it from a piece of quartz we found on a walk one day. I must have been twenty-five then.
I can’t believe I’ve been here this long. The only reason I stayed was Kenneth. I wrote him many symphonies and he carved me letters and left them in places where I’d see them.
The letters are still where he left them—throughout the forest, even in the dining hall and the meeting rooms—but none of the others see them. I know this means something, but I don’t know what.
I know this means I don’t belong here, but I can’t figure out how to leave.