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Monica came down to his level, pressing her face into his. "Can you
understand?" she said in a loud voice.
He was having trouble dealing with the cascade of odors that were now pouring
from their bodies. Their emotions seemed to run in waves, bursting forth for a
few moments, then subsiding, then coming out again. And each time they came
forth they were stronger.
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Their fear was rising, and soon it would break
them. Inside himself Bob was in turmoil. He felt so odd that he could barely
walk. It was a tremendous effort to coordinate four legs, to see through these
shape-sharpened, color-dulled eyes, to sort out the smells and sounds that
shoved and swarmed at him from all sides.
What's more, the presence of the night was oppressing him. The walls of the
room seemed almost alive, like malevolent flesh keeping him from the freedom
of the woods.
He moaned again, he couldn't help it. Cindy clapped her hands over her ears.
"Bob, are you in pain?"
"Bob " Monica took his face in her hands.
"We have to communicate with you. We have to have some means of knowing how
you feel and what you want. Now, please, try to listen to me. Tap the floor if
you hear me."
Tap the floor. Was that all that was left to him?
"He tapped! Dad, Dad, tap once if you're in pain, twice if you're okay."
What could he do? He was not in pain.
Anguish is not pain. Desperation is not pain.
He tapped twice.
"He's not in pain!"
A barrage of questions followed. Bob heard the fluttering of wings outside the
window.
When he cocked his ears, he could also hear the alien breathing of a large
bird. He was astonished to know that there were owls in the city. He could
imagine the bird skimming over the buildings, searching out the dark places
for mice. From the rapidity of its breath its busy fluttering of feathers, it
was
, working hard, and full of excitement. Then it flew on, after a faint
scuttling sound that came from the edge of the cornice.
There was a secret world out there.
"Don't even think about it," Cindy yelled. She put her arms around his neck.
"It's a six-story drop, don't you remember?"
"Close the windows. There's not much he can do but jump."
He tapped once, sharply. "Once is no," Kevin said.
"Yes, yes, we will close the windows. Bob, this is all going to be over soon.
You'll get back to normal. You'll be all right. Monica's going to do some
research and find out what's wrong with you and she's going to fix it, isn't
that right, Monica?"
"That's right."
Didn't they realize what had happened here?
A great reordering in the world had caused this. The petty ministrations of a
doctor weren't going to undo something so enormous.
But if he didn't change back, what would he do? He couldn't spend the rest of
his life in this apartment. Not the least reason was that they were due to be
evicted. What was Cindy going to do? She was desperate for money.
Now how would she get it?
The wind whispered, the wind called. It was seductive, it was insistent. And
now the wind rattled the windowpanes a little bit, tapping for him to come. He
saw himself running across the top of the wind, escaping from the maze of
prisons that was this city.
He might have wished for wings, but thought perhaps he'd better not.
He watched Monica and Cindy frantically locking the windows. He climbed up and
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dragged his paws against the glass. "Down,"
Cindy commanded. "Down, Bob!"
How dare she talk to him like he was a dog.
He wanted to tell her, to scream it out: I am a human being in here. I am a
human being!
All that escaped, though, was a very unpleasant snarl.
He had bared his teeth at her, he had raised his hackles. Terrified, she was
backing away.
"Now, now, Bob. Nice Bob." Oh, good Lord, how stupid.
Kevin came up to him. "Dad, I know you can understand everything. Look, they
don't want you near the windows, okay? So let's compromise. Let's say you stay
away from the windows and I'll get Mom to leave them open."
Bob tapped twice on the floor.
"Hear that, Mom? He does understand. Is it a deal?"
"You won't go near the windows, Bob."
Again he tapped. He was a little bit in control at least.
Then Monica went to Cindy and whispered in her ear, a whisper that Bob could
hear clearly. "Don't open the windows. He could be suicidal."
"How can we be sure? He's always been fascinated by wolves. Maybe he's having
a good time. At least he doesn't have to get out and earn a living."
"Look, Monica, how would you feel if this
this fantastic catastrophe happened to you?"
They both regarded Bob, Monica with a weak smile, Cindy sadly. "I want to turn
on the air conditioners," she said. "It's too close in here."
Lacking voice, lacking hands, all Bob could do was watch as she defied him.
A moment later the downstairs buzzer sounded. Monica picked up the handset,
spoke for a moment, then let somebody in.
She turned a shocked face to the others. "It's
Jodie O'Neill and her mother. They've got the covered-dish supper."
Cindy rushed to the door. "I don't believe it.
We can't " The doorbell rang. "Monica!"
"What can we do tell them to leave it on the stoop?"
"Say anything, say he's got AIDS. No, don't say that. All hell will break
loose at the school."
"Cindy, as far as this woman is concerned, Bob's been taken to the hospital.
You have a big dog, that's all. It's simple enough."
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