WE WAIT UNTIL NIGHTFALL TO TRIP, reasoning that maybe Toby would be asleep at night and in one location. It’s possible that he’s never been far from where the initial accident took place, but maybe Sam and Costa simply couldn’t see him.
I’m edgy and walking the length of the open living area—going back and forth from the fireplace, passing the soft couches, passing the farm table where we’ve eaten dinner together every night, stopping in front of the pictures on the wall that are lit by small showcase lamps. Gorgeous pictures of the Bishop family, all in black and white, cover this wall, and I study the prints—Sam and Kelly as kids growing up in Maine, Micah and Felicia on their wedding day, the family in front of the inn during a party.
I see only one picture that makes me pause. It’s of Sam, when he was fully grown, and I know for sure that this must have been taken after Toby died and before I met him. I can see the surly, angry person he was when I first came to Maine. It’s hard to believe now how cold and shut down he was.
I’m tempted to call Felicia, but I’m afraid that she’ll hear the emotion and nerves in my voice, and I don’t want to alarm her. We’ve been in touch via text, but I haven’t spoken to her. Once Sam, Costa, and I get through this last trip, I’ll want to hear her voice. I’m nervous and fragile now though, and her love would be too much.
We need to be careful with death tripping. That’s very obvious to me. Toby is a drastic example of what can go wrong, but there are plenty of other repercussions I don’t want to even imagine.
But I’m so ready to trip. The desire in me that has been teased by all the tripping Sam’s been doing has built to such a degree that I can hardly think about anything else.
“How are we going to do it?” I ask. “The pills, right?” I turn and start walking the room again, but then I stop when I see what Costa is doing. “Oh, CJ…do you think that’s a good idea?”
He’s kneeling by the coffee table and pulling out things from a bag. I watch as he folds a fuzzy green blanket and sets it down. Then, he takes a worn teddy bear and holds it up. “Toby loves this guy. He’ll want to have him when he gets back.”
I don’t know what to say as he continues adding to the collection on the table—board books, a set of plastic blocks, some clothes. He’s included the beginnings of everything a toddler would need.
Then, he snaps his fingers and rushes to the kitchen. “Hungry. Toby’s going to be hungry.” He takes Cheerios from a cabinet. “I shouldn’t leave the yogurt out though, right? I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”
Sam is eating dinner at the table and looks up from his book. Then, he puts a finger to his lips to tell me not to bother trying to dissuade Costa.
“What did Toby call that bear?” I ask.
Costa smiles warmly. “Ba. He called the bearBaand a bottlebabaand a napbee.I have no idea where that word came from, but most of his words started with B.” He looks at the table. “I bought diapers and clothes in case he’s grown. I don’t know what he’s going to be like, how old. But…what else am I forgetting?”
Sam backs up his chair and goes to Costa. “We’ll figure it all out. And we can get anything else you need later, okay? One thing at a time.” He looks at me. “Did you eat?”
“Not really hungry.”
“You should try to get something in your stomach.”
“I’ll eat after. I want to do this. Now.”
“Okay. Costa, you all set there?”
He rubs his hands together and stands. “Yeah. Did you, uh…talk to Stella?”
I look between them. “Talk to me about what?”
The apologetic expression on Sam’s face scares me, and my edginess increases by a landslide. “What is it?”
“It’s about how we should trip. Or really, how you should trip.”
“The pills. You’ve been using them. It’s fast, easy. That’s what we’re doing, right?” I confirm. Sam gestures for me to sit down, but I shake my head and rub my hands over my arms. “Just say it. How?”
Sam has trouble answering, so it’s Costa who walks to me. “We need you at your strongest, your most reactive.”
I understand now why they both appear hesitant. “Blood,” I say. “You need me to bleed.”
“I’m so sorry, but yes,” Costa confirms. “Blood is your trigger. Without it, the death tripper in you is less responsive. With it, you’ll trip harder, and you’ll pass that to Sam. Based on the little we know, this is the smartest approach. We think…”
“It’s okay. It’s fine.” I think they’re right, but my voice is shaking horrifically, and there’s no way I can conceal my fear. Again though, underneath this is a fervent ache to get what my body is screaming for. I’m desperate to see blood. “How? Just say it. I can’t do it myself. You know that. I don’t have the willpower.”
“Knife or gun is the easiest. We need it to take a little time though, so neither can be instantaneous. You pick,” Costa says.
“Sam? Which one?” My heartbeat must be visible through my shirt. “You’re going to do it, right? You choose. I can’t. I don’t know.”
“Stella…”
