Page 22 of The Quiet Tenant

You tell him you do, but something holds him back. He kneels at your side. Brings a hand to your face and forces you to look up. He needs to see it in your eyes. That you believe him, and he can believe you in return.

“Do you know what I do for a living?”

Is he really asking? Does he really not remember that he never told you?

You try to shake your head no.

“I’m a lineman.” You give him what must be a blank stare, because he rolls his eyes and adds, “Do you know what that means?”

You think you do, but he asks with such intensity it makes you think you don’t.

“Kind of,” you say.

“I fix and maintain power lines. Never saw any of us up there, working on the overhead cables?”

You tell him yeah, that’s what you thought. It makes sense to you, this job for him. All day perched on a utility pole, only a layer of rubber between him and a deadly power.

“This is a small town,” he continues. “And when I’m working, well, it’s pretty incredible how far you can see from up there.”

He lets go of your face, gazes up, like he can see through the ceiling. You picture him, treetops in the background, birds flying past. He goes back to his phone.

This time, he shows you the results of a Google Images search. Men hanging from cables, one foot resting at the top of a forty-foot pole, the other hovering in the air. Hard hats and thick gloves. A messof pulleys and hooks. You feel his stare on you as you take it all in. He gives you a few moments, then puts the phone away.

“You can see everything, when you’re up there.” His eyes dart to the window again. “Every street. Every house. Every road. Every person.” His gaze travels back to you. “I see it all. Do you understand? Even when people can’t tell. I’m watching. I’ll always be watching.”

“I understand,” you tell him. If your voice had hands, they’d be joined in prayer right now. “I get it.”

He stares you down for a few seconds, then walks to the door.

“Wait!”

His finger flies up to his lips. You lower your voice. “My stuff.” You tug at the handcuffs to emphasize the fact that you are here and your books are over there, out of reach. He picks them up, tosses them in a pile next to you.

“Thank you.”

He checks his watch and hurries out. You hear footsteps, then his voice coming from downstairs. “Ready?”

Cecilia must nod her head yes. The front door opens and shuts. The truck starts, then the hum of the engine melts away.

Without them, the house is quiet. Not a peaceful kind of quiet. A blank silence, oppressive, as uncomfortable as sitting in a stranger’s lap. The room feels enormous and tiny at once. It’s as if its walls are sliding toward one another, the surface shrinking, the structure shutting around you.

You close your eyes. Think back to the shed, to the hardwood floor underneath your head, to your world of wooden slats. You press your palms against your eyes and move them to cover your ears. You can hear the current of air passing through you, like the rush inside a conch shell.

You are here.

You are breathing.

This morning was a test and you passed. As far as you can tell, you passed.

CHAPTER 14

Emily

After Aidan’s wife died, and her parents, for reasons unknown, kicked him out of their home, Judge Byrne offered to rent him that small house he owns in the hamlet, near the Hudson. It’s not big. From what I heard, the judge cut him a great deal on rent, the kind you can’t refuse. Classic Judge Byrne.

Judge Byrne thinks of himself as the glue that holds the town together. He has performed every wedding in a ten-mile radius since before I was born. When the going gets tough, Judge Byrne finds you. He always makes time to talk. He has your back, even when you wish he didn’t.

Which is why Judge Byrne suggested the 5K fundraiser on the town’s Facebook page three days ago. “Aidan—everyone’s favorite handyman and general good guy around town—has just lost his home and his wife, and he is still facing staggering medical bills for her care while raising a daughter by himself,” he wrote. “He’s far too proud to admit it or complain, but I know the man could use some help.”

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