A Brief Lunacy by Cynthia Thayer Page A

you,” Jessie says. “Please. Don’t hurt us.”
    The telephone begins to ring. When I got up this morning, I turned off the answering machine because I knew we’d be right here. For a moment it appears that Jonah will answer, but he ignores it. When Jessie starts toward the ringing phone, Jonah jerks the gun to point it at her, and she backs away. Twelve, thirteen. The ringing finally stops.
    â€œWhat if it’s your girlfriend?” I say, wishing I’d thought of that when it began. “Maybe she’s delayed. Maybe she isn’t coming.”
    â€œShut up, Carl,” he says. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you love me?”
    â€œLove you? I don’t even know you.”
    â€œBut I know you. I know you, Carl. Yes sirree, I know you well. I know who you really are.”
    â€œKnow me? How? Who are you? I think I know who you are. You have to leave.”
    â€œOh, no, I don’t.”
    Once when Charlie was a small boy, he looked like this boy, defiant, scared, a lock of hair flopping on his forehead.
    â€œOh, yes, I am,” he’d said when I told him he couldn’t go ice fishing with the older boys without an adult. When he pulled his snow pants up and shoved his feet into his boots,I made no attempt to stop him. I tied his hat under his chin while he put on his mittens.
    â€œWill you make me a sandwich?” he had asked.
    â€œSure, Son. Peanut butter?”
    â€œDad, do you like fish? I’ll bring you one home.”
    â€œCharlie, I’ve told you that you can’t go ice fishing alone. You aren’t allowed. It’s too dangerous. But of course you know that, don’t you?”
    â€œJust pretend, Dad,” he said. “Not real ice fishing. Just pretend. In the backyard. I’ll bring you and Mom a pretend fish.”
    It terrified me to think he could fall through the ice into frigid water without me there to save him. I still remember the sense of relief I felt that day when I knew he wouldn’t go without permission.
    I think this boy could shoot me. Even worse, I think he could shoot my Jess. Perhaps, like my Charlie, he’ll change his mind. He’ll put the gun down and leave.
    It’s been a very long time since a gun has been pointed at me. I never thought it would happen again, certainly not in America, land of the free. Back then, guns sounded day and night, indiscriminate shots at anything that moved. Once, a new guard practiced by shooting at my feet while I danced. He wanted me to waltz around the courtyard while he tried to aim as close as possible without hitting me. I was naked and the cold stiffened my joints until I could barely lift my feet from the frozen mud. My family stood in silent columns with the others. I watched my mother try to lookbeyond me so she couldn’t see my feeble attempts at dance and view my exposed sex. But she saw. I know she saw. When the guard grazed my small toe with one of his bullets, he tossed me a violin and made me play while my uncle danced. My uncle’s genitals were shot off. We weren’t allowed to help him, of course. He froze during the night and I was conscripted into the camp orchestra to take his place. That violin saved my life.
    But all that is in the past, left in Europe. Now I live in the United States, where people don’t shoot other people and make them do things that have no dignity.
    â€œTape him. Hurry up.”
    When Jessie hesitates, Jonah holds his arm out straight toward her, the barrel of the revolver close to her heart. She pulls the duct tape off the roll and stretches it over the arm of my sweatshirt.
    â€œNo. Pull the shirt up. I want to see the fish. Pull it up. Stick the tape to his skin. Leave the fish showing. There you go. That’s right.” He doesn’t notice that I lift up my arm to keep the tape loose. “I was reborn in the belly of a fish, you know. Given another chance, you might say. That makes us