Guy--Part Ten

Splog # 27

Ten

   Arriving at the door of the house, she glanced down the road to the village. Someone was walking very slowly in her direction. At first, she didn't recognize her husband because he was alone. There was no mule plodding at his side and there were no children running around him laughing and screaming. When she did realize that it was her husband's form moving slowly down the road toward her, she was so surprised that for a moment she could only stand and stare at him. Her mind started racing through explanations of his solitary state. The mule had thrown a shoe and been left in the village at the smith's. The children had begged their father to let them stay with some other children whose father or mother would bring them back later and maybe stay for a visit. Her mind was starting to feel easy when there was another rumble of thunder. But now she realized something strange about the thunder that she had been hearing. It wasn't coming from above her head but from below her feet. She looked down at the ground in front of the door and slowly shook her head. She was behaving foolishly. Thunder, when it came, usually sounded all around you, not only overhead. The strangeness of the animals was making her act silly. She looked back to her husband for reassurance and saw that he had stopped and was just standing in the road. His arms were by his sides and he was looking straight ahead. Why had he stopped? What was he doing?

   She started walking towards him. When she had covered about half the distance, she heard another low rumble and this one was definitely coming from under the ground. She looked all around her. There was no movement of the earth, as she had heard happened during earthquakes. But the ground was emitting these long, low rumbles at uneven interludes.

   She looked back to her husband. He hadn't moved. Slowly, almost afraid of what she might encounter, she resumed walking toward him. When she reached him, he looked at her but there was no recognition in his look. There was no familiarity, no affection, no love. He just looked at her and stood there. She felt at a loss. She was sure he was in no condition to answer her questions. She looked into his face for a moment. Then she looked past him, down the road he had just walked from the village. No one. No movement. No sounds. She looked again at her husband's face. She touched his cheek with one hand. He closed his eyes for a moment. As if he was concentrating on the sensation of her fingers on his skin. Then he opened them and looked at her again.

   She took his hand and started leading him back to the house. Once he was safe at home, she would head into the village and see if she could discover what had happened. She tried to remain calm. There was no sense in panicking until she knew there was something to panic about. Of course, there was no sense in panicking then, either. Just seeing what needed to be done and then doing it.

   A couple of yards from the door, another rumble sounded from the ground. Her husband stopped walking. He didn't look around. He didn't act confused or scared. He simply stopped. Again she touched his cheek and again he closed his eyes. When he had opened them, she took his hand again and they made their way to the house.

   Once inside, she sat him in a chair near a window and brought some water and a damp cloth. When she put the cup in his hand, he held on to it but he didn't drink. So she took the cup herself and put it to his lips. She tilted it slightly and he opened his mouth and swallowed a sip. She felt his forehead and, though he didn't feel feverish, she wiped his face with the damp cloth anyway and then gave him another sip of water. She put the cup and the cloth on the sill of the window and stood looking at him for a moment. Then she knelt in front of him and took one of his hands in both of hers. "Will!" she said, clearly and firmly. (For that was his name.) He looked down at her. "Can you tell me anything? Can you tell me what happened?... Can you talk at all?" He continued looking at her as she questioned him, rather as Emily the cow had. Placid. Untroubled. Unresponsive.

   She hadn't really expected him to say anything. Calmly, she stood up and moved toward the door. She didn't want to leave him alone but she had to know that her children were safe. And he didn't seem harmed or physically ill in any way. He looked as though he would sit there until he was moved to a different place. He had turned his head and was looking out the window. But his eyes weren't moving. He was just staring at one spot.