Chapter 53
I’ve been wondering recently how I’d look to an outsider during my dinner routine.
I cook my meal alone, pausing occasionally to give Hugo scraps of various ingredients.
And then I portion out two plates. One plate sits on the counter to cool, and I’ll later pack it up for Topher to have for lunch tomorrow.
I then take my plate and sit at the kitchen table and eat alone.
I try to imagine what my silhouette looks like in the window.
It’s funny, I should, by all accounts, eat like a slob.
Elbows on the table, one foot tucked under my bum, scanning my phone as I shovel food down my gullet.
That’s more or less how I’d eat back in Cambridge, on the nights Topher wasn’t home for dinner.
But for some reason, I don’t do that now.
I feel as if I’m performing for someone.
And so, I hold my utensils properly, sit with both feet on the floor, and I make small talk with Hugo.
Sometimes, I look down at Hugo, almost conspiratorially, and want to say, Do you think we’ve fooled them?
As though we’ve tricked whoever might be watching into believing I’m capable and grown up, and I’m not home alone and I’m not afraid.
Tonight, I’ve made pasta Bolognese. The baby’s craving red meat.
I have two servings, feeling oddly voracious.
I almost feel like an athlete fueling up for a big game, or a marine prepping for combat.
Hugo’s patiently watched me, salivating hard, so I put a meatball on a plate for him.
He devours it in almost one bite. My belly is getting substantial, and I need to hoist myself up from the table to bring our dishes to the sink.
After dinner, like always, I open up the back door and let Hugo out to do his business one last time. The sky is practically black already, thanks to daylight savings time, and there’s a chill in the air.
Usually, Hugo bounds away, does a few laps and then his business, and he’s back within five minutes, while I stand watch in the back doorway.
Tonight, he’s taking longer. I stand for a while behind the old screen door, peering out into the field, everything obscured by the dual veils of darkness and mesh.
“Hugo!” I call. “Come here, boy!”
I wait a few minutes longer and then, slightly annoyed, speed walk to the mudroom to get my shoes. I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and catch my big toe on something raised and sharp. The fucking nail again.
I let out an animalistic scream. There’s a warm sensation on my toe and I look down to see a tiny pool of red gathering on the floor. I grab a tissue and quickly wrap it around my toe and hobble into the mudroom, and carefully slide my feet into a pair of slippers.
The screen door slams shut behind me and from the deck I can hear Hugo barking and just barely see his shape by the edge of the woods toward the right of the property, on the side that eventually leads to Alice.
He’s jumping and howling and pacing back and forth.
I slowly make my way across the meadow, cursing the stupid dog for making me come out, pregnant, with my toe throbbing. He must have seen a skunk or a deer.
I’ve just about reached him, and he glances back, teeth bared, and he gives a low, guttural growl.
And then, before I can take another step, he takes off into the trees.
Shit. Hugo never goes into the woods alone.
He rarely even goes in with me. I can hear him crashing through branches and over dry leaves, his bark echoing in the trees.
I call his name over and over, screaming at him to come back. The noise grows distant and I’m about to follow him but realize I don’t have a source of light.
I limp back to the house, as quickly as I can, and grab a flashlight from the mudroom.
By the time I get back outside, I cannot hear Hugo.
I know he went into the woods, but I know it’s not smart for me to go there alone at night.
I’m less familiar with this side. When I walk in the woods, I always go on the other side, where the old foundation is.
I go out onto the road and begin to make my way toward Alice’s house.
“Hugo!! Hugo!! Come here, boy!” My flashlight creates jumping beams of pale light on the road and in the woods.
My pulse is beginning to quicken. Hugo’s never done this before.
He’s so loyal, he rarely leaves my side and when he does, he circles back within minutes.
What if he gets attacked by an animal? Was it a bear he sensed?
Does he even know how to get back? After cursing him, I begin to curse myself for not going straight into the woods after him. There was still some light.
And then I hear a noise on the street up ahead and see the dark shape of a figure.
I start to run, ignoring the pounding in my toe.
My flashlight bounces and as the light pans across the street, I realize that it’s not Hugo who is in front of me.
It’s a tall figure, hooded with dark gaping holes where the eyes should be. I drop the flashlight and scream.