“One of us was going to break an ankle if I didn’t,” I muttered. Then Henry launched himself while Calvin was distracted.
“It’s just me!” Cal groaned, as Henry knocked him violently into the refrigerator. Calvin’s glasses fell off and clattered to the floor.
“Henry,” I gasped, grabbing his upper arm and tugging at it. Henry shook me off and I stumbled backward into the door, releasing a cry of pain.
Just then, Henry backed away from Calvin, looking blankly around the room as if he had no idea where he was. He soon dropped to cower near the stove, panting as if he’d been sprinting, clutching his forehead in his hands. I pushed past Calvin to crouch beside my brother. Up close, I noted the sweat on his skin and the tears in his eyes.
“He was here,” Henry said, still dazed. He looked around the room, then shook his head. “Where did he go?”
“It was just a dream,” Cal said softly. “You were alone.”
Henry blinked away the last of his tears, then scowled at Calvin.
“I know the difference between a dream and reality! He was in this house.”
“This has happened before,” I reminded him. “Remember? When you first came home to us in El Paso?” Henry’s dreams were so vivid when he first returned from Europe and he often wandered around the house, sound asleep. After the night I found him standing at his car, keys in hand but deeply asleep, I began hiding his keys after he went to bed.
Those dreams seemed different from this episode, though. Back then, even when Henry acted out a dream, he was always fully alert as soon as I spoke to him—quickly aware he’d been dreaming. And he’d never hurt anyone before—but I shuddered to think what might have happened to Calvin if Henry hadn’t snapped out of it right when he did.
“Someone was here, Lizzie. It must have been Rhodes,” Henry insisted. Calvin bent, then felt around on the floor until he found his glasses. He sighed when he realized they were broken, and Henry looked at him, stricken. “What happened to your glasses, Cal? Did Rhodes do that?”
“You were in here alone,” Calvin repeated. Henry frowned, shaking his head.
“He must have left before you came in.” He paused, then nodded, as if he’d convinced himself. “That’s it. He must have—” His gaze drifted to the window, and he frowned again. It was closed, the latch locked. His eyes flew to the door. “He must have gone out that way. Down the hallway. Out the back door.”
“Why don’t you sleep in the guest room tonight?” I suggested.
“We need to call the police,” Henry said. He shot me a look of impatience—as if I were the irrational one.
“No one was here, Henry.”
“You’re not listening to me!” he exclaimed, raising his voice again. “I’m not crazy—I know what I saw.”
“Why don’t we call the police in the morning?” Calvin suggested. He caught my eye, and I gave a subtle nod.
“Good idea,” I said gently. “If someone was here, they’re obviously gone now. Let’s get some sleep and try to figure this out in the morning.”
Once I got Henry settled in the guest room, I went to Cal’s bedroom and closed the door behind me. Calvin was sitting on his bed, wearing his spare glasses. He was staring at the floorboards, his expression grave.
“He heard us for sure,” I muttered.
“I know.”
“What do we do?”
“He needs to see a doctor.”
“A doctor?” I repeated. “For what? Nightmares?”
“I don’t know what kind of episode that was, but it was more than a nightmare.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t need some doctor telling him he’s crazy, Calvin. He just had a bad night, and it’s our fault anyway, since he heard us talking about—” I cleared my throat “—your colleagues.”
“He knocked you into that door and he was ready to tear my head off. I’m worried about him, sweetheart.”
“Me too. But he hates doctors.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?” I shook my head. “Then you need to do it, Lizzie. Please, just check in with him. Maybe he just needs some sleeping pills?”
I slept on the sofa that night because it was in the room opposite the guest room. Every single time Henry stirred, I shot upright, ready to go to his aid.
Henry came into the kitchen and scooped up one of those bruised apples I’d put back in the fruit bowl at 2:00 a.m. He was dressed and ready for work but looked as exhausted as I felt as he took a bite out of the apple and sat opposite me.