I take the lift cord in a hand. I wrap my whole fist around it. Lily and I almost never open these blinds for fear of some neighbor seeing us naked in the bath. I give the cord a gentle tug. The blinds rise by degrees, exposing the open window behind them.
The lights are still off in the bathroom. It’s pitchy, the kind of darkness you can only see in once your eyes have had time to adjust. I step carefully into the tub. I crouch down. I stand there in the large soaker tub, pressing my eyes to the part of the window that is exposed, that two-inch gap at the bottom beneath the blinds.
Though it’s dark in the bathroom, it’s exponentially darker outside. A vast nothingness. The moon and stars are nowhere to be seen.
Our bathroom window faces a neighbor’s house. The neighbor has motion activated lights.
I see absolutely no one, nothing outside.
But the neighbor’s motion activated lights are on.
Our yard and the yards around us are wooded. We’re surrounded by trees and the river. The trees bring wildlife, for food, shelter. It’s not unusual to see a deer in the backyard or a fox or a coyote walking down the middle of the street, usually at night, but at any time of the day really. Because of it, neighbors are disinclined to let their dogs, particularly little ones, out unsupervised.
I try and convince myself that something like a coyote could have set off the neighbor’s motion activated light.
But coyotes don’t wear things that beep.
I run my eyes over the backyard listening for sounds, looking for movement.
I won’t be able to sleep until I know for sure that no one is in our yard. I decide to go outside for a better look. I check on Lily first, leaning over her in bed. She’s still sound asleep, her breath rattling through her nose.
I get down on my hands and knees beside the bed. I reach under the bed before I leave, to where I keep an old baseball bat, just in case. Lily doesn’t know that it’s there. I didn’t tell her, because if I have a reason to keep a baseball bat under our bed, that means I have a reason for us to be scared.
I take the bat. I go to the bedroom door and unlock it. I pull it slowly open. I coast down the hallway and down the stairs. I’m not worried about being absolutely silent since the sound was coming from outside and there is nobody in the house but Lily and me.
When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I see the alarm’s keypad on the wall. It reads Disarmed. System Is Ready To Arm.
I do a double take. I’d bet my life I set the alarm, just as I have every day this week.
But last night was different because I was so tired when Lily and I got home from moving Jake’s car. My nerves were shredded. I chugged a beer and then, when Lily went to wash up for bed, I chugged another beer. I collapsed into bed. I don’t even know that I brushed my teeth. The yeasty taste is still in my mouth and my teeth feel like they’re wearing fuzzy little sweaters. I don’t remember falling asleep. It was as if I blinked and the next thing I knew, it was four in the morning.
It’s entirely possible I forgot to set the alarm.
I search the first floor, my hand clinging to the barrel of the bat. I played baseball in high school, but other than some adult leagues I’ve joined for fun since, I haven’t picked up a bat in years. Still, I have confidence that, if necessary, I could knock someone unconscious with a swing.
Our house is open concept with large, open spaces. Lily has said how nice it will be when the baby comes. She can cook dinner in the kitchen, while keeping an eye on our baby playing in the next room. It’s all about that continuous line of sight, which is advantageous even now because I can see clear across the house without things getting in my way.
There is no one in the house but us.
In the kitchen, I dig around in a drawer for our flashlight. I find it. I unlock and slide open the back door and step outside. Outside, it’s cold, something like forty-five degrees. I’m in a pair of pajama pants, but shirtless. I left my T-shirt upstairs and I regret it. The coldness hits like a wall. The brick paver tiles are like ice on my bare feet, but I try to ignore it.
I stand on the step, sweeping the light across the backyard. I don’t know how far outside I want to go. I creep across the back patio. It makes me nervous to be out this far, not because I’m worried about me, but because I’m worried about Lily. I don’t like putting any distance between the house and me. The back door is unlocked and Lily is in the house alone. The bedroom door is open now. Lily is asleep. She wouldn’t hear someone come in.
There is a noise off in the distance to my right. My head snaps in that direction, but it’s too dark to see anything. That doesn’t matter. Because it’s not what I see, but rather what I hear that scares me: the tread of footsteps hitting the trail, the brush of leaves.
I call out, “Who’s there?”
Nothing but the skittering of rocks. Whoever or whatever was there has started to run.
I sweep my flashlight over the yard, but the darkness only swallows up the flashlight’s beam.
Probably just stupid teenagers getting drunk and high on the trail again. I scared them off. That’s what I tell myself anyway, but we’ve never had kids screwing around in the backyard at four in the morning.
I stand there awhile, watching. But everything quiets. I don’t hear any more noise. Eventually, when I’m convinced whoever or whatever was here is gone, I back into the house. I slide the door closed and lock it. I check that all the doors on the first floor are locked. I check the windows. On the way back to the bedroom, I set the alarm. I make absolutely sure it’s set. I stand and watch and wait for the sixty seconds while it counts down, and then arms.
The rest of the night, I don’t go back to sleep. I lie awake in bed beside Lily, watching out the window as the sky turns from black to blue.
“What are the odds of you and Jake Hayes both being at that forest preserve at the same time?” I ask Lily the next morning. It’s Sunday. I slept in, mostly because, from four thirty until six thirty, I didn’t sleep, not until the sun started to rise. Only then did I lie fully down beside Lily, curling myself around her, closing my eyes and succumbing to exhaustion. I dreamed about Jake. I dreamed that he was dead and that I was happy.