A Brief Lunacy by Cynthia Thayer Page B

relatives, doesn’t it?”

10
J ESSIE
    W HAT IF J ONAH shoots me in the heart? How will it feel, I wonder, to have a bullet pierce my chest, crack a rib, blow a hole in my left ventricle? Will I really feel anything or will it be over too soon for any awareness? While I’m wrapping the tape around Carl’s bare arm, Jonah will have to shoot me through my back. Perhaps it won’t hurt quite as much if I don’t see it coming.
    If I wrap the tape an inch at a time, press it down onto Carl’s flesh, I can prolong my time with him. What does this Jonah want, anyway? Is he just crazy and did he fall upon our house by mistake? That couldn’t be. The smell of the duct tape adhesive makes me woozy. If I keel over, will he shoot me? I think Carl is raising his arm to keep the tape loose. He’s going to escape. I know it. We’re going to get out of this.
    And what about Jonah? He says we’re relatives becauseof the fish. Is that just crazy talk or do we have some connection? Does he know our daughter? Yes. That’s who he is. It must be.
    The only sounds in the house are the quiet humming of the refrigerator and the car engine and the jerk of the duct tape each time I tug on it. I don’t know what he’s doing behind me but I sense the muzzle of the revolver pointed through my spine. Carl isn’t looking at me. He watches his own shoes. I press lightly on the tape so that it catches only the hairs on his arms, little by little across his wrists. When I kiss the top of his head, he shudders. Fear? Embarrassment? I don’t know. Both, perhaps. I run my index finger down his sad cheek to the corner of his mouth. His tongue touches the tip. I allow my finger to enter his mouth, just to the joint. He closes his lips around it. I whisper love words to him and he nods just enough for me to feel his head move. There is no sound from behind me.
    The first time he took my finger into his mouth, sucked gently as a sleeping baby would, we made love in a cemetery near my school. We huddled in the shadows behind a large stone while we undressed. That was the first time I felt the scars on his back.
    â€œDon’t,” he said when I slid my hand along his back. Squares of hard raised flesh. “Don’t. It’s from the war.”
    When I’m finished with the tape, I turn away from Carl. Jonah still sits in the chair, watching us, weeping to himself now. The gun points toward the floor. It has begun to rain, and fog obscures my rock through the window.
    â€œHe loves you,” Jonah says.
    â€œYes,” I say.
    â€œSomeone loves me, too.”
    â€œYes, Jonah. I’m sure they do.”
    He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt. The gun stays pointed down.
    â€œJess,” Carl says. I can barely hear him. “The gun.”
    I walk toward Jonah. He looks weak, frail, frightened. “Everything will be all right.” I open my arms toward him because he is like a child. Like my child. “Let me take the gun from you. It is bad.”
    â€œSit down,” he says. “On the couch.” He gestures with the gun again and I back up until I feel the cushions at the backs of my legs. I lower myself until I perch on the edge.
    â€œWhat do you want?” I ask.
    â€œI want love, too,” he says.
    â€œBut you said someone loves you.”
    â€œYes. They’re coming here.”
    â€œComing here? But what do you want from us? We don’t even know you.”
    â€œGet out,” Carl says. “Leave us alone.”
    â€œOh, my, Carl. Don’t be so angry. If you’re angry with me, you’re angry with God.”
    â€œDo you want something to eat, Jonah?” I ask.
    â€œLunch. Is it time for lunch?”
    â€œI’ll make something.”
    â€œBring it in here. If you do anything bad, I’ll shoot Mr. Carl here.”
    On the way to the kitchen, I pass within a foot of Jonah. I am frightened, but something