Pressure in her bladder woke Carol. That, and the black tomcat, Milton, who stood on her chest and sniffed her face, which he did when he was hungry.
She lay there, too comfortable to get up, knowing she’d have to use the toilet eventually, not wanting to dislodge Milton, whose whiskers tickled her face. She felt the cat’s breath on the left corner of her mouth.
Outside, an owl gave a ghostly call. Or a ghost called like an owl.
Odd notion.
Carol smiled.
Well, she was Harry’s sister.
As kids, she had helped Harry when he’d built rambling earthworks in the backyard, roads and towers, populated by tiny olive-colored soldiers. She watched as Harry draped sheets over the dining room table and backs of chairs to make tents under which they huddled in the filtered light. Harry spun tales of bad guys, pirates, brigands, desperados, smugglers, elegant second-story men in top hats and tails. Harry wore his father’s oversized vests and wide ties, which Carol tied for him in Windsor knots. And his father’s fedora.
She glanced at the bedside clock.
She’d been sleeping only for twenty minutes, but it felt like hours.
She lifted her head slightly from the pillow, which was damp with sweat. With a knuckle, she wiped away the drool from the corner of her mouth.
In her bra and panties, which she’d slept in, she shuffled into the bathroom. After peeing, the toilet seat cold under her, she shrugged on her quilted flowered bathrobe, fumbled her feet into her backless cloth slippers, and searched the upstairs. No Phil. At the top of the back stairs, the service stairs when she and Harry were little and their parents had staff, she listened. Silence. She descended the steps and searched the downstairs, turning on and off lights, as she moved through the rooms. No Phil. She went up the front steps and was going back into her room when, passing Harry’s room, she saw what she had previously missed: Phil sitting in the dark in Harry’s wing chair.
“Indigestion,” Phil said from the dark.
Because his face was shadowed, she couldn’t see his mouth move. An uncanny effect.
“Indigestion,” Carol repeated.
Phil didn’t respond.
Carol shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Phil was silent.
Carol shifted her weight again.
“I’m going back to bed,” she said.
Phil was silent.
After hesitating, Carol walked along the hallway to their bedroom. Before entering, she stopped and looked back toward Harry’s room, where Phil sat in the dark.