Every detail of her came into stark relief—her flushed cheeks, her delicate eyelashes, her slightly tousled hair, the flyaways catching the light. He fixated on her fingers, deftly refastening the buttons of her blouse. She looked so vulnerable even as she was closing herself off, retreating. A sorrow entered him at the loss of the intimacy that had been so effortless moments before. He wanted to stop her, to wrap her up in his arms and pull her against him. But when her eyes met his with an open, quizzical expression, seeking an explanation, he swallowed hard and looked away.
Part of him wanted to explain everything. Wanted to take her into his confidence. Trust her with his secrets. Hell, even get her counsel on how to handle this. It had been so long since there was anyone he could genuinely confide in, and Ellsbeth was smart and thoughtful and sensitive and…
No. He wouldn’t know where to begin…and where to stop. Where to draw the line. So he wrapped her in his coat and kissed her good night and tried to say goodbye in a way that communicated some fraction of what he was feeling. He left his house with a visceral ache in his body. For her.
The rising whine of the engine cut through his thoughts and he checked the speedometer. On the dark, traffic-free road, he was accelerating dangerously, heedless of consequence. But the last thing he needed right now was an accident, and the way his attention had been hijacked, he knew it was a risk. He slowed down and set the cruise control at seventy-five, grateful to give over control to something else, even temporarily.
The Greene County Hospital lookedlike it had not been updated since the 1980s, with fluorescent lights that glinted on mint-green tile. He checked in at the front desk and, too impatient to wait for the elevator, took the stairs up to the ICU.
The waiting area was empty at this hour except for Lennox and her husband, Benjamin. It was strange to see the dean, who always dressed the part of an academic bureaucrat, wearing a pair of jeans. Benjaminwas wearing gray sweatpants and a Newlyn sweatshirt that looked like it had been pulled from the floor.
Lennox rose when Rawlins approached. “You didn’t have to cometonight.” She took him into a dry, perfunctory hug, punctuated by a pat on the back.
Benjamin stood to offer Rawlins a quick handshake, but he didn’t make eye contact. Rawlins coughed. “How are you doing?”
“My son tried to kill himself, Thaddeus,” Benjamin said tightly. “I’m a wreck. We both are.” He put his arm around Lennox’s shoulder, and Rawlins felt chastised for even asking.
Lennox sighed. “We appreciate you coming. Max won’t really talk to either of us. We thought, given how close you two used to be…”
She trailed off and Rawlins nodded, memories flooding back from when Max had been his student. More than a student, really. Even before the tragedy, before his arrest, Max had stopped speaking with his parents, and Rawlins had been his only confidant. It emerged as a point of tension between Rawlins and Benjamin during the trial, and apparently was still a sore spot. But clearly Lennox, at least, saw the relationship between Max and Rawlins as an opportunity to get through to her son—though she may not have been aware of how Max had been refusing prison visits from Rawlins, too.
“How…I mean, what happened?” Rawlins asked.
“They found him in his cell during a bed-check,” Lennox said. “He had slashed both of his arms with a pair of scissors. Children’s safety scissors. Apparently he works in the library, and he might’ve snuck them out and sharpened them for weeks. Did it right after lights-out, and if they hadn’t caught him, he would’ve been dead in the morning.”
“But he’s okay now,” Rawlins said, hoping the certainty in his voice would make it true.
“He lost a lot of blood,” Lennox said, trying to keep her voice even. “But they gave him a transfusion, plus the tetanus shot and antibiotics, and now he’s…stable. They might discharge him tomorrow or the next day, but he’ll be under observation for a week.”
“Did he say…anything?” he asked.
Lennox pulled herself from beneath her husband’s arms. “You know he won’t say anything to me. He hates me.”
“I’m sure he’s just…upset.”
His words were empty. They felt stiff and false even as he said them, the equivalent of hospital carnation flowers wrapped in cellophane.
“Do you want to see him?” Lennox asked. She didn’t wait for an answer before she started down the linoleum hall, beckoning Rawlins to follow with a tilt of her head. Benjamin stayed behind in the waiting room.
Lennox led the way to a patient room at the back corner of the floor, and through the glass, he could see the correctional officer on duty, sitting in a chair, engrossed in his glowing phone screen. As they approached, the CO stood, blocking the way and eyeing Rawlins. “Sorry, visitation is family only.”
“He’s family,” Lennox said decisively, a hint of warning in her voice.
The CO eyed Rawlins, then Lennox, and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble; he stepped back, allowing Rawlins inside, though apparently he was not about to leave; he sat back down on his perch by the door as Rawlins stepped into the darkened room.
Six years had passed since he had seen the boy in person—and really, now that Max was twenty-five, it was hardly appropriate to think of him as “the boy” any longer, but even so, Rawlins could not help it. Max had never been large, but now he was even leaner, his body hardened by prison, his arms and neck ropy. His cheekbones were sharp, and his dark eyes seemed to have sunken deeper in his skull. His lashes had always been dark and long. He was still beautiful, in a more haunting way than ever.
Rawlins had prepared himself on the drive over for the sight of Max in a half-reclined hospital bed. He had pictured the EKG machine beeping, IV tubes hooked up. But there were details he hadn’t prepared himself for. The boy’s forearms were wrapped in gauze, with dark spots where blood had seeped through the sutures. His wrists were bound with cuffs, secured to the side rails. His eyes hardened into a coldly hateful glare when he saw Rawlins tentatively approaching the bed.
“It’s you,” Max said. He lolled his head toward the CO. “Guess I’ve lost my right to choose my visitors.”
“You want him out of here?” the CO asked.
Max considered for a moment, then shrugged, settling back into his pillows.
“It’s good to see you, Max,” Rawlins said, his throat dry. “Even under these circumstances, it’s…” He coughed, trying to stay on track. “I know you’re angry with me, about what happened…”
Before he could form an apology, Max cut in. “Oh, I don’t worry about that anymore. I never should have trusted you in the first place. Thefamous, extraordinaryteacher. Hah.”
