Jilly had only moments ago folded miraculously from one place to another, and now here they stood in this surreal landscape, facing a future certain to be so bizarre at times as to seem like a stubborn hallucination, and yet they were talking about something as mundane as Goldfish cheese crackers. Maybe absurdity was the quality of any experience that proved you were alive, that you weren’t dreaming or dead, because dreams were filled with enigma or terror, not with Abbott and Costello absurdity, and the afterlife wouldn’t be as chockfull of incongruity and absurdity as life, either, because if it were, there wouldn’t be any reason to have an afterlife.
‘Why are you disgusted by those little cheese Goldfish?’ Dylan asked again. ‘Is it because they’re sort of round?’
‘Shapey,’ said Shepherd.
‘They’re round and shapey, and that disgusts you.’
‘Shapey.’
‘But lots of people like Goldfish, Shep. Lots of people eat them every day.’
Shep shuddered at the thought of dedicated Goldfish fanciers.
‘Would you want to be forced to watch people eating Goldfish crackers right in front of you, Shep?’
Tilting her head down to get a better look at his face, Jilly saw Shepherd’s frown deepen into a scowl.
Dylan pressed on: ‘Even if you closed your eyes so you couldn’t see, would you like to sit between a couple people eating Goldfish and have to listen to all the crunchy, squishy sounds?’
Apparently in genuine revulsion, Shepherd gagged.
‘I like Goldfish, Shep. But because they disgust you, I don’t eat them. I eat Cheez-Its instead. Would you like it if I started eating Goldfish all the time, leaving them out where you could see them, where you could come across them when you weren’t expecting to? Would that be all right with you, Shep?’
Shepherd shook his head violently.
‘Would that be all right, Shep? Would it? Shep?’
‘No.’
‘Some things that don’t offend us may offend other people, so we have to be respectful of other people’s feelings if we want them to be respectful of ours.’
‘I know.’
‘Good! So we don’t eat Goldfish in front of certain people—’
‘No Goldfish.’
‘—and we don’t pee in public—’
‘No pee.’
‘—and we don’t fold in or out of public places.’
‘No fold.’
‘No Goldfish, no pee, no fold,’ Dylan said.
‘No Goldfish, no pee, no fold,’ Shep repeated.
Although the pained expression still clenched his face, Dylan spoke in a softer and more affectionate tone of voice, and with apparent relief: ‘I’m proud of you, Shep.’
‘No Goldfish, no pee, no fold.’
‘I’m very proud of you. And I love you, Shep. Do you know that? I love you, buddy.’ Dylan’s voice thickened, and he turned from his brother. He didn’t look at Jilly, perhaps because he couldn’t look at her and keep his composure. He solemnly studied his big hands, as if he’d done something with them that shamed him. He took several deep breaths, slow and deep, and into Shepherd’s embarrassed silence, he said again, ‘Do you know that I love you very much?’
‘Okay,’ Shep said quietly.
‘Okay,’ Dylan said. ‘Okay then.’
Shepherd mopped his sweaty face with one hand, blotted the hand on his jeans. ‘Okay.’
When Dylan at last met Jilly’s eyes, she saw how difficult part of that conversation with Shep had been for him, the bullying part, and her voice, too, thickened with emotion. ‘Now… now what?’
He checked for his wallet, found it. ‘Now we have lunch.’
‘We left the computer running back in the room.’
‘It’ll be all right. And the room’s locked. There’s a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.’
Traffic still passing in liquid ripples of sunlight. The far side of the street shimmering like a phantasm.
She expected to hear the silvery laughter of children, to smell incense, to see a woman wearing a mantilla and sitting on a pew in the parking lot, to feel the rush of wings as a river of white birds poured out of the previously birdless sky.
Then, without raising his head, Shepherd unexpectedly reached out to take her hand, and the moment became too real for visions.
They went inside. She helped Shep find his way, so he would not have to look up and risk eye contact with strangers.