“Sorry about Kevin,” Trent said. “I didn’t mean to provoke him.”
“It’s not your fault,” Nancy said. “He’s been a bear lately. There’s something he didn’t tell you. He recently lost a patient himself–which isn’t exactly a common occurrence for an ophthalmologist.”
The next day they woke to gusty wind, a heavy mist, and a cold, driving rain. When Angela looked out the window, she cried out for David. Fearing some catastrophe, David leaped from the bed. With heavily lidded eyes he looked out. He saw the car. He saw the rain.
“What am I supposed to be seeing?” he asked sleepily.
“The trees,” Angela said. “They’re bare. There are no leaves. All the foliage has vanished in one night!”
“It must have been the wind,” David said. “It rattled the storm windows all night.” He dropped onto the bed and burrowed back under the comforter.
Angela stayed at the window, captivated by the skeletal remains of the trees. “They all look dead,” she said. “I can’t believe what a difference it makes. It’s hard not to see it as an omen. It adds to that feeling I’ve had that something bad is going to happen.”
“It’s melancholia left over from last night’s conversational requiem,” David said. “Don’t get morbidly dramatic on me. It’s too early. Come on back to bed for a few minutes.”
The next shock was the temperature. Even by nine in the morning it was still in the thirties. Winter was on its way.
The gloomy weather did not improve the general moodiness of the adults, who’d awakened with the same sullenness they’d taken to bed. The children were initially happy, although even they started to be affected by their parents’ ill humor. David and Angela were relieved to get away. As they drove down the mountain David asked Angela to remind him never to play tennis with Kevin again.
“You men can be such children with your sports,” Angela said.
“Hey!” David snapped. “I wasn’t the problem. He was the problem. He’s so competitive. I didn’t even want to play.”
“Don’t get so riled up,” Angela said.
“I resent you implying I was at fault,” David said.
“I wasn’t implying anything of the kind,” Angela said. “I was merely making a comment about men and their sports.”
“All right, I’m sorry,” David said. “I suppose I’m a bit out of sorts. It drives me crazy to be around morose people. This wasn’t the most fun weekend.”
“It’s a strange group of people,” Angela said. “They seem normal on the surface, yet underneath I’m not so sure. But at least they didn’t get into any sexual discussions or start acting out like at the lake. On the other hand they did manage to dredge up the Portland tragedy again. It’s like an obsession with Kevin.”
“Kevin’s weird,” David said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I hate to be reminded of Portland’s suicide. It makes going into my office an ordeal. Whenever he brings it up, I can’t help but picture what the wall must have looked like behind my desk, splattered with blood and brains.”
“David,” Angela said sharply. “Please! If you don’t have any concern for my sensibilities, think about Nikki’s.”
David glanced into the rearview mirror at Nikki. She was staring ahead without moving.
“You all right, Nikki?” David asked.
“My throat hurts,” Nikki said. “I don’t feel good.”
“Oh, no!” Angela said. She turned around and looked at her daughter. She reached out and put the back of her hand to Nikki’s forehead.
“And you insisted on going on this stupid trip,” Angela muttered.
David started to defend himself, but changed his mind. He didn’t want to get into an argument. He already felt irritable enough.
11
MONDAY, OCTOBER 18
Nikki did not have a good night, nor did her parents. Angela was particularly distressed. By the wee hours of morning it was clear that Nikki was becoming progressively more congested. Well before dawn Angela tried the usual postural drainage combined with percussion. When they were through, she listened to Nikki’s chest with her stethoscope. She heard rales and rhonchi, sounds that meant Nikki’s breathing tubes were becoming clogged with mucus.