The Laws of Invisible Things by Frank Huyler

Author:Frank Huyler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

The next morning, he turned the water on full blast and sent billows of steam into the bathroom. He stood in the shower for a long time, washing his body and hair again and again. It was very early, and he had plenty of time to reach the office and do what he needed before Susan came. I will think no further than that.

The madness of recent hours—he did not delude himself, he recognized it for what it was—seemed to have gone. He felt clear now, though tired. With deliberate patience, he dressed: pressed pants from the closet, a white button-down shirt. Short sleeves, so that he would not have to roll them up. No tie. Loafers, brown socks. A wind-breaker, for the chill of the morning. His keys and his wallet. Holding himself tight. The snap of the comb through his wet hair, in brief firm strokes. The hum of the electric shaver against his cheek.

With a last glance in the mirror, he folded the windbreaker over his arm and left the bedroom. Yesterdays imbalance, the vague need to hold on to walls, was also gone, and he walked easily down the stairs and into the brightness of the morning.

He knew, as he quickly crossed the short walk to the driveway and slid his hand carefully into his pocket for his keys, that anyone, looking through any window, would think he was going to work. But it was difficult, as he turned the key in the lock, not to notice the oak tree above him, like a vast green whispering sail. He did not look up. It was important to keep his mind fixed, his intention clear, yet already the tree above him, and the metronome of the neighbor’s sprinkler down the street, and even the sound of his key in the car door threatened to carry him away. Part of him knew that if he paused even for a moment, or nodded to someone walking past, he would be lost. He thought of Clara Gass, whom even now he imagined strolling only a few blocks from here, smiling, with her blue eyes and white hair, like the old woman she was. He felt as if he had only a few more moments before she came around the corner, only a few moments before she would stop and turn to face him.

He got into the car and started the engine. He clung to the sound of the motor, the trembling wheel he held in both hands, the jolt of reverse, and the lawn sliding by as he backed out into the street.

Accelerating carefully away from his house, he kept his attention exactly where it should be, which was the next turn, and the next, and the stoplight. A few minutes passed, and even as he felt the strain of his concentration begin to build, and his hands whiten on the wheel, he knew he could reach where he was going.

And there it was, his office, just as it had always been, the space waiting for his car as if he had never been away.

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