The Leftovers

): how r u?
Jillpill123 (10:15:50 P.M. ): just chillin. u?
GRgrl405 (10:15:57 P.M. ): thinking bout u (:
Jillpill123 (10:16:04 P.M. ): me 2 (:
GRgrl405 (10:16:11 P.M. ): u shld come 4 a visit
Jillpill123 (10:16:23 P.M. ): idk …
GRgrl405 (10:16:31 P.M. ): ull like it here
Jillpill123 (10:16:47 P.M. ): what wld we do?
GRgrl405 (10:16:56 P.M. ): sleepover (:
Jillpill123 (10:17:07 P.M. ): ???!
GRgrl405 (10:17:16 P.M. ): just a night or 2—c what u think
Jillpill123 (10:17:29 P.M. ): what wd i tell my dad?
GRgrl405 (10:17:36 P.M. ): yr call
Jillpill123 (10:17:55 P.M. ): ill think about it
GRgrl405 (10:18:08 P.M. ): no pressure when ur ready
Jillpill123 (10:18:22 P.M. ): im scared
GRgrl405 (10:18:29 P.M. ): its ok 2 b scared
Jillpill123 (10:18:52 P.M. ): maybe next week?
GRgrl405 (10:18:58 P.M. ): that wd be perfect (:
     

I’M GLAD YOU’RE HERE
    TOM WAS TELLING CHRISTINE ABOUT Mapleton as he drove, trying to sell her on the idea of an extended visit with his family, rather than an overnight stopover on the way to Ohio.
    “It’s a pretty big house,” he said. “We could stay in my old room for as long as we want. I’m sure my father and sister would be happy to help with the baby.”
    This was a bit presumptuous, since his father and sister didn’t even know he was on the way, let alone that he had company. He’d meant to give them a heads-up, but things had been pretty chaotic in the past few days; he figured it made more sense to play it by ear, keep his options open until they got within striking distance. The last thing he wanted to do was get his father’s hopes up and then disappoint him, as he had so many times in the past.
    “It’s really nice there in the summer. There’s a big park a couple blocks away, and a lake where you can go swimming. One of my friends has a hot tub in his yard. And there’s a pretty good Indian restaurant downtown.”
    He was improvising now, not sure if she was even listening. This side trip to Mapleton was a Hail Mary on his part, a way to buy a little more time with Christine and the baby before they drifted out of his life.
    “I just wish my mother was still there. She’s the one who really—”
    The baby let out a wail from her bucket in the backseat. She was a tiny thing, barely a week old, and didn’t have a lot of lung power. All she could produce was a strained little mewling sound, but Tom was amazed by how viscerally it affected him, jangling his nerve endings, filling him with a sense of urgency just short of total panic. All he could do was glance at her scrunched, angry face in the rearview mirror and plead with her in a syrupy voice that was already starting to feel like a second language.
    “It’s okay, little one. Nothing to worry about. Just be patient, sweet pea. Everything’s copacetic. You go back to sleep now, okay?”
    He pressed on the gas pedal and was startled by the engine’s eager response, the heroic leap of the speedometer needle. The car would’ve been happy to go even faster, but he eased off, knowing he couldn’t afford to get pulled over in a BMW that was either borrowed or stolen, depending on how the Falks chose to look at it.
    “I think it’s about ten miles to the next rest area,” he said. “Did you see the sign a while back?”
    Christine didn’t respond. She seemed almost catatonic in the passenger seat, sitting with her feet up and her knees tucked beneath her chin, staring straight ahead with a disconcertingly placid expression. She’d been like this the whole way, acting as though the infant in the backseat were a hitchhiker Tom had picked up, an unwelcome guest with absolutely no claim on her attention.
    “Don’t cry, honey bun,” he called over his shoulder. “I know you’re hungry. We’re gonna get you a baba, okay?”
    Amazingly, the baby seemed to understand. She released a few more sobs—soft, hiccupy whimpers that sounded more like aftershocks than actual protests—and then fell back asleep. Tom glanced at Christine, hoping for a smile, or even just a nod of acknowledgment, but she seemed just as oblivious to the quiet as she’d been to the noise.
    “A nice big baba,” he murmured, more to himself than his passengers.
    *   *   *
    CHRISTINE’S INABILITY to connect with the baby had begun to frighten him. She still hadn’t given the child a name, rarely spoke to her, never touched her, and avoided looking at her whenever possible. Before leaving the hospital, she’d gotten a shot that