They watched him hoist a guitar case from the trunk, loop it over his shoulder.
“Is he wearing eye makeup?” Abe said in a low voice. He slunk down even further in his seat. “He saw us. He saw us.”
Indeed, the young man, who did seem to be wearing eyeliner, was waving at them through the windshield. Jen zipped down her window.
“Morning,” he said. “I’m Colin.”
“Hi,” Jen said in a bright phony voice. “This is Abe. He’s visiting today.”
“Awesome,” Colin said.
Abe scowled. Flicked the vent.
Colin pointed to the graphic novel on Abe’s lap. “What’s that?”
“Gothracula.”
“Never heard of it.”
Abe looked skeptical. “Seriously?”
“Cross my heart. What is it?”
“The best vampire fantasy battle series in the world. There are, like, seven books. You’ve really never heard of them?”
“Nope.”
“I’m going to turn the books into a ten-level video game,” Abe said. “Like Foxhole. You know Foxhole?”
“No,” Colin said. “But maybe you can show me sometime?”
“Are you a student?” Abe asked suspiciously.
“In graduate school. I’m a new assistant teacher here. I like it.”
“It’s creepy,” Abe said. “It looks like a horror movie.”
Colin considered the outside of the double-wide as if seeing it for the first time. “It totally does. There’s nothing scary inside, though. I promise. You know we do customized curriculums, like that video game could be part of your homework.”
“Video games as a class,” Abe said suspiciously. “Is there a decent Wi-Fi connection?”
“Come check it out.”
Before Jen had gotten out of the car, Abe was following Colin up the steps.
“I’ll get Nan,” Colin promised Jen, as he opened the door. “Abe, follow me, there might be snacks in the back if you’re hungry. Emma, she’s the other teaching assistant, usually bakes something over the weekend.”
Inside, the schoolroom looked small and spare: a few desks, a small kitchenette, mostly bare-walled but for a world map taped to the wall and some quotations stenciled in a flowery cursive.
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. Psalm 32:8.
“Jen?”
Jen looked up from reading and was face-to-face with a tiny woman, swaddled in a gigantic olive cardigan. She had short bushy gray hair, vampiric pallor, and stern brown eyes.
Colin hovered closely behind her, like a cautious grandson who’d been tasked to watch that grandma didn’t fall and rebreak her hip.
“Hello,” the woman said. “I’m Nan.”
Their handshake felt dry and delicate, like a tight squeeze from Jen might break Nan’s thin bones.
“Abe made himself at home,” Colin said with a half laugh. “He’s back there trying to boost the internet connection.”
“Computers are his passion,” Jen said.
“Nice.”
Jen broke the awkward silence. “Nan, is there any more information you need from us?”
Medical records, Dr. Shapiro’s report, transcript from Foothills? Anything?
“No,” Nan said. “Let’s just see how he feels being here.”
Jen decided that if Nan wasn’t going to ask, she had no obligation to share Abe’s diagnosis, at least not at this early stage. First, give them a chance to get to know Abe, minus any labels. After all, Jen still hadn’t decided if the diagnosis truly fit.
Nan nodded solemnly. “‘My God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation.’”
It was just unexpected enough that Jen panicked. She looked desperately at the ceiling, then the floor, then Colin. It was almost indiscernible, his teensy nostril flare, the way he widened his eyes at Jen as if to say, Better get used to it.
What stopped Jen from a torrent of giggles was the sobering realization that she was leaving her son under the responsibility of a woman who seemed—all due respect—not entirely there.
“Don’t worry,” Colin said, as if reading Jen’s mind. “We’ll take excellent care of Abe, I promise.”
NOVEMBER
To: “The Best Book Club in the World”
From: [email protected]
The book: This month’s pick, THE GIRL IN THE WOODS, promises to be quite controversial!*