The Lost Years

40

Kathleen was sitting up in bed, a tray with tea and juice and toast in front of her. The smell of the toast made her think of sitting at the breakfast table with Jonathan. He was with her now, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was sitting on a chair next to the bed, and his head and arms were leaning against her legs.

Any minute now he will start to bleed, she thought.

She pushed aside the tray, unaware that the nurse grabbed it in time to prevent the tea and juice from spilling.

A voice asked, “What do you want, Kathleen? Why are you doing that?”

Kathleen was clawing at the pillow, trying to yank the pillowcase off.

She did not realize that the nurse made a gesture to stop her, then stepped back.

Her fingers shaking, Kathleen pulled the pillowcase free and tied it around her face.

“Kathleen, you’re frightened. Something is frightening you.”

“I can’t see his face,” Kathleen wailed. “Maybe if he can’t see mine, he won’t shoot me, too.”