Safe Passage by Ellyn Bache

Author:Ellyn Bache
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2009-10-16T09:36:26.703000+00:00

CHAPTER 7

MONDAY October 24, 1983

Gideon's watch was still on Utah time and he did not know how to adjust it. The first thing he said to his mother was, "What time is it here?" because when he looked at his watch, he could not remember whether to add two hours or subtract them or how to do simple math. His arms and legs weighed a ton. After he got off the plane at Dulles airport, he took the Metro into D.C. and then out to Maryland. He rode two buses. When it got so late the buses stopped running, he hitched a ride and then walked. Each time his feet touched the ground, they were so heavy he did not think he could lift them again. But he did.

"Twenty after three," his mother said, looking up at the family room clock. She was combing her hair with her hands. He had thought she would be awake, conducting a vigil of sorts, but from her hair he could tell she had been sleeping. It seemed wrong. There were wrinkles on her forehead, and her eyes seemed sunken back into their sockets. She was younger than most of his friends' mothers, but now he could see that she was old.

"I guess you haven't heard anything, then," he said. If they'd heard, they would all be up.

"No, but I thought you were the Marines," she told him. "You know, they don't call you if it's bad news. They send a Marine." She stopped talking and smiled in a sad way. "I'm glad you came," she said. He felt as if she were tolerating him but really wishing the doorbell hadn't rung. He had a key somewhere but had forgotten to bring it. He should have brought his key. She was leading him into the family room. "Dad thought it would be easier for you to stay at school, but everyone else is here," she told him. "People kept coming over all day. They kept bringing food. Are you hungry?"

"I don't know," he said. He didn't think she was glad to see him. The weighted-down feeling was strong inside him. The legs had been his main problems, but now it was hard to move his hands.

"Well, you're probably hungry," she said. She walked through the family room to the kitchen, and he followed. The kitchen light flooded on, bright yellow, bringing the room up from dimness: refrigerator, range top, all of it sharp-edged, sudden. With the heaviness inside him, he wanted muted colors; it seemed to him now that the day, the planes, the Metro, the buses, all had been muted. Everything…muted, unreal—and now the kitchen was too bright. His mother was taking food out of the refrigerator; she didn't notice him squinting. She piled some macaroni and cheese onto a paper plate and put it into the microwave. She was always feeding them, but never what they liked. He had

always hated macaroni.

"I don't think I can eat anything," he said. "I feel like I'm still moving.

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