The Cliffs, page 4
If he went to the Cliffs, he could join Anna in death. Maybe there was even a possibility he would see her again on some other spiritual plane. And of course, it was possible that Tyler was also—
This thought was so horrifying that it sent Robert running back to the bathroom to retch up the nonexistent contents of his stomach. He leaned over the toilet, gagging and sobbing. My little boy, my little boy were the words that played in a loop in his head. He flushed the toilet and stood up straight. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and was shocked by what he saw.
He seemed to have aged ten years in a single day. His complexion was gray, and his eyes were swollen and bloodshot. His face was streaked with tears and snot. On impulse, he turned on the water in the shower. Maybe standing under the spray would calm him down a little, loosen the painful knots in his shoulders. He undressed and stepped into the stall. Letting the hot jets of water pound his neck and shoulders, he felt his exhausted mind begin to wander.
Tyler’s first birthday. Knowing the joy that one-year-olds take in destruction, Robert had gotten Tyler a special “smash cake” he could destroy in addition to a larger birthday cake that Robert could slice and serve. Tyler sat in his high chair, wearing a conical paper birthday hat. When the smash cake was set before him, he cackled with delight and immediately jammed both fists into it. He brought his fists down into the cake again and again, then eventually gave one of his frosting-covered hands an experimental lick. Apparently liking what he had discovered, he dove into the cake face-first, coming up with a mouth and a face full of frosting.
Robert had filmed the whole thing, laughing.
Robert had been so happy that day. He had thought about how that day was the first of many happy birthdays for his son, the first of many birthdays he and Tyler would celebrate together.
He had been wrong.
Freddy’s words echoed in his head. Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Two years before the birthday party. Robert and Anna’s first anniversary. The official gift for the first wedding anniversary was supposed to be paper. Robert had checked out a book on origami from the library, and after a lot of failures and frustration, had learned how to make origami cranes. For weeks, he spent every spare minute he had folding pieces of paper into cranes. The night of their anniversary, they had gone to their favorite sushi restaurant, and Robert had presented Anna with a box of one hundred origami cranes, one crane, he said, for every year of happiness they would have together.
Robert had known realistically that he and Anna couldn’t possibly have one hundred years together. But in his darkest nightmares, he never would have dreamed that they had only one year left. Were some people just doomed to lose everyone they loved? Or was it just Robert’s own personal curse?
Those words again: Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Robert stood under the shower until the water ran cold and he started to shiver. He turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel. He dried himself off and put on his bathrobe, but he was still shaking, not just with cold but with sadness and fear.
How could the bear still be threatening him? Hadn’t he destroyed it? Robert remembered the line from the description on the toy’s packaging: Tag-Along Freddy is the bear who is always there.
Robert threw on an old T-shirt and a pair of shorts, then grabbed scissors from the bathroom cabinet. He ran out of the house and into the driveway. He yanked the doll out from under his car tire, laid it flat on its back on the hood of the car, and stabbed it over and over and over where its heart would be. If it had a heart.
“What do I have to do to make you go away?” Robert yelled as he kept on stabbing the little bear. “Why won’t you just die? You’re not even supposed to be alive!” The bear’s chest was slashed to ribbons. Bits of stuffing poked out from between the tears.
Robert was debating ripping out the stuffing when his wristwatch vibrated. He knew what to expect. He knew it would be awful. But the little flutter of hope from somewhere inside him whispered, “What if … ? What if it’s news about Tyler? What if I can save him?”
He took a deep breath and tapped A message from Freddy.
Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
“Why don’t—”
Robert ripped off the watch and threw it against the pavement, smashing it. Finally, the watch was silent.
He picked up the bear and looked in its blank, googly eyes. All of his rage, all of his pain had turned into a numbness that was somehow even worse. “Fine,” he said to the bear, feeling more emotionally drained than he had ever felt. “We’ll go to the Cliffs together.”
It’s the only logical thing to do, Robert thought.
Robert was empty. He was a shell, like a house that had burned so that all of its insides were destroyed. It might not look so bad from the outside, but really, there was nothing left to save. It was time to bring in the wrecking ball. The final demolition was just a formality.
He picked up the bear and went into the house. In the kitchen, he filled the cat’s food bowl until it was overflowing and put out an extra bowl of water. That should hold Bartholomew until the police discovered Robert’s body and came to search the house.
The police could turn the cat over to the animal shelter, and the shelter could find it a new home. It had never liked Robert anyway.
Robert toyed briefly with the idea of leaving a note, but who would read it? Who would care? If he had anybody left to write a note to, he wouldn’t be going to the Cliffs in the first place. He grabbed the bear and walked out the front door, leaving it unlocked to make things easier for the police when they arrived to investigate.
With Tag-Along Freddy in hand, he walked toward the Cliffs. The night sky was changing from black to an early morning gray. A neighbor whose name Robert couldn’t remember was already up for his morning run. He slowed down when he saw Robert and started jogging in place. “Any news about your son?” the man asked. The neighborhood gossip machine was apparently working as effectively as usual.
Robert couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he just shook his head no.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” the man said, which Robert knew was a lie. How could this man be so sure when the police didn’t even have any information? “Let me know if you need anything.”
Robert knew the man meant well, but really, “Let me know if you need anything” was an absurd thing to say to someone in Robert’s situation. I need my son back, Robert thought. But since the universe is too cruel to let me have that, I need to jump off the Cliffs. If you can’t help me with either of these things, then you are of no use to me. Good-bye.
The man continued his run, and Robert started running in the opposite direction. But Robert wasn’t moving like a man getting some exercise. He was running like a man pursued by demons.
He ran until he reached the Cliffs. He made a beeline for the one everybody called Jumper’s Cliff, still holding his small stuffed enemy. When he stood at the summit and looked down at the rocky ground far below, it felt like his stomach dropped into his shoes. He had always been afraid of heights but had always considered it a sensible fear. It wasn’t crazy to be afraid of something that could actually kill you. And now, even though death was his goal, he still felt afraid when he looked down.
Robert held up the teddy bear and stared at it. “This is what you want, right?” he asked.
Tears clouded Robert’s eyes as he thought of Anna dying on the operating table during what should have been the happiest occasion of their life, the birth of their son. She never would have chosen to make such an early exit from life. She wouldn’t have wanted Robert to make an early exit, either, especially when, unlike her, he had a choice.
The living Robert had been doing since Anna died wasn’t really living. Anna wouldn’t have wanted that for him, either. She wouldn’t have wanted him to shut out his friends and eat sad little sandwiches at his desk at work. She would’ve wanted him to go out with his coworkers and eat half-price sushi. She would’ve wanted him to enjoy fatherhood but also enjoy the company of other grown-ups. Anna had loved life and had loved Robert. She wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on himself.
And she wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on Tyler, either, not when there was even a small hope that he might be alive.
He thought of Tyler when he would stretch his arms up and say, “Pick me up, Daddy,” when he would giggle and say, “Daddy silly!” or when they would play Tickle Monster or the rhyming game or read books together. It was easy to get overwhelmed by the daily stresses of parenting—the effort of keeping a child clean and fed and cared for day in and day out. And it was undeniable the will of a toddler often posed a formidable challenge. But the truth was that most of the time he and Tyler spent together was great. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.
If there was just one small chance he could hear his little boy’s voice again …
Robert held up the despised bear and stared into its empty eyes. He drew back his arm and pitched the doll as hard as he could over the edge of the cliff. He spat over the ledge in defiance of what the evil toy had almost made him do. Of what he had almost let the toy make him do.
“Tyler wouldn’t want me to!” Robert screamed after the bear plummeted to the rocks below. His voice echoed—“to to to”—in the canyon.
Robert looked down at the rocks below but also up at the sky, where the dawn had turned the clouds a rosy pink, the color of a dress Anna used to wear. He always told her that dress brought out the roses in her cheeks.
Anna had wanted to live. Tyler—please let him still be alive—Robert thought—wanted to live. The two of them would want Robert to live, too.
Robert looked down at the rocky ground beneath him and then up at the pink clouds above him. Life was hard, but it could also be beautiful. The two people he loved most in the world wouldn’t want him to lose sight of that.
As the sun rose, Robert heard the early morning chirping of birds and the cry of some small animal he couldn’t identify. The mewling of a kitten, perhaps? The cries were coming from below him in one of the many holes that had created shallow miniature caverns in the rock face.
The more Robert listened to the cries, he decided they sounded almost human. Could it be—?
Robert’s heart felt as though it might pound right out of his chest. He made his way to the underside of the cliff. He had to resist the dangerous temptation to run. How embarrassing that would be—if he had decided to live and then fell off the cliff by accident? As he got closer to the caverns, the cries became more distinct, a high keening that could be a wounded animal but also could be a frightened human child.
Robert stood in front of the openings in the rock face, hoping that he would see his son and not a wounded animal that might attack him out of fear. “Tyler!” he yelled. “Tyler, is that you?”
“Daddy!” Tyler’s voice, weak from crying, came from the hole nearest Robert. “Daddy! Daddy, come get me!”
The hole wasn’t wide enough for Robert’s shoulders to fit through. “I can’t fit in that hole, buddy. You’re going to have to come to me. Come toward my voice, buddy! You can do it!”
He could hear scrabbling in the hole, and then, in what couldn’t have been more than a minute, Tyler poked his head out of the rocky opening like some kind of woodland creature. He held out his arms, and Robert scooped him up and hugged him. Tyler was dirty and sweaty from his overnight stay in the caverns, but to Robert, he still smelled sweeter than anything else in the world. “You scared me half to death, buddy,” Robert said, holding Tyler close. “Why in the world did you run off like that?”
“I saw a doggie,” Tyler said like it was the most logical answer in the world.
“So you tried to follow the doggie and got lost?”
“Uh-huh.” Tyler rested his head on Robert’s shoulder.
“Well, that was really dangerous, buddy. You should never leave the yard unless I’m with you. Promise me you’ll never do that again.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Tyler said. Robert hoped he meant it.
“Good. Let’s go home.”
“Yeah, carry me,” Tyler said, and Robert could hear the tiredness in his voice.
“Okay, buddy.” Robert was tired, too, but now that he had found his son, he felt like he had the strength to carry him for a million miles.
As Robert carefully walked away from Jumper’s Cliff, Tyler said, “Daddy?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“I bet you are. We’ll get you a big cup of water as soon as we get home.”
“And can I have a peanut nana?”
“Sure.” Robert knew the kid must be starving. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. Robert was happy to have the opportunity to make Tyler his favorite snack again, sliced bananas with peanut butter to dip them in. Toddlers liked to eat things they could dip into other things. “And I’ll make my special mac and cheese for supper, okay?”
“Yummy!”
Honestly, Robert’s mac and cheese wasn’t anything special, just a mix from a blue box. But it would be special because Tyler was back and unharmed and they’d be eating it together. From now on, all their time together would be special.
A thought occurred to Robert as they reached the lower cliffs. “Hang on just a second, buddy. I want to see something.” Without getting too close to the edge, Robert peered down in the direction in which he’d thrown Tag-Along Freddy. The little bear was nowhere to be seen.
“What you see, Daddy?” Tyler asked.
“Nothing, buddy. But look how pretty the sky is. Your mommy used to have a dress the color of those clouds.” He decided he would no longer keep silent about Anna. Tyler needed to hear about his mom, just as Robert needed to talk about her. If they talked about her, if they thought about her, there was a way in which she would still be with them.
“Mommy pretty,” Tyler said.
“Yes, she was,” Robert said. “Would you like to look at some pictures of your mommy sometime soon?”
“Yeah!” Tyler said.
Tomorrow, Robert decided, he would take the photos of Anna down from the attic. He could put some on the mantel in the living room and maybe one in Tyler’s room, too. “We’ll do that tomorrow, then,” Robert said. “And I can tell you some stories about her, too. Your mommy was very pretty and smart and nice.”
“Daddy’s nice, too,” Tyler said.
It was a high compliment from a two-year-old. “Thanks, buddy. I love you,” Robert said, holding Tyler securely as he walked farther and farther away from the Cliffs.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, buddy.” Robert set Tyler down on the ground. Tyler slipped his hand into his daddy’s, and they walked together toward home.
I. Hate. Him,” Reed whispered through gritted teeth.
From across the aisle of desks, Shelly blew long dark bangs from her forehead, glanced at the back of Julius’s head, and then rolled her eyes at Reed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Reed looked at her sideways. “Just sayin’.”
Julius, as usual, had been bragging about his talents, and then he’d started complaining. Typical Julius. He was either telling everyone how he was better than they were, or he was trying to blame his problem on someone else. Too often, Reed had been on the receiving end of that blame, along with the physical bullying that came with it.
“You need to ignore him,” Shelly said.
“As if,” Reed hissed. “He’s the world’s biggest—”
“Did you have something to add to Julius’s observations?” Ms. Billings asked Reed.
Ms. Billings was the perfect teacher for this class: small and compact, a plain face generally devoid of emotion. The head of their robotics class moved in jerky, precise movements that had sparked more than one conversation about whether she was an advanced robot herself.
The first week of class, Shelly’s twin brother (and Reed’s other best friend), Pickle, had posited, “Who better to teach robotics than AI?” Pickle was convinced Ms. Billings was an android. For weeks, he’d been devising a plan to prove his hypothesis. Because, so far, the plan involved cutting into Ms. Billings, Shelly wouldn’t let Pickle go forward with it.
So, what was under the teacher’s pale skin was still a mystery.
Reed tipped his chair forward and sat up straight at his desk. In response to Ms. Billing’s question, he said, “Um, no?”
Reed couldn’t add to Julius’s observations because he hadn’t heard them. All he heard when Julius talked was the jerk’s loud, nasally twang.
Julius never said anything you wanted to hear anyway. He only spoke in insults, complaints, or brags.
Ms. Billings left her cool blue–eyed gaze on Reed long enough for him to start squirming before she shifted her attention back to the class as a whole. She flipped her long, wavy blonde hair off her shoulder as she spoke. “So let’s talk about Julius’s concern. What could Dilbert do to prevent his remote from affecting Julius’s exosuit?”
Reed knew the class discussion was going to be a rehash of IR versus RF remotes, and since it had bored him the first time, he decided not to listen a second time. Besides, it wouldn’t matter how much he listened. At this point in the semester, he knew he was going to crash and burn on his project in spite of whatever he learned or didn’t learn.
Reed looked at the midsize, partially constructed exoskeleton sitting on his desk. He’d been working on it since Ms. Billings assigned their spring semester project, but it looked like he’d just started because he seemed to have missed too much pertinent information in the class lectures. He’d tried to use the textbook to help him fill in the blanks, but he didn’t completely understand it.
