Gods Without Men, page 40
“What about her?”
“Leave her, she’ll be OK.”
“What if she wakes up?”
“She’s got so much booze inside her, she ain’t going to move a muscle until morning.”
Why had that stuck in her memory? Had they left her? Where had they gone? How long had she been unconscious in that strange house? The trapdoor was open, the questions hatching and swarming, like maggots turning into flies. Raj had been spirited away into that teeming darkness. They’d said something about her, about Raj. What had they been saying about Raj? Shut the trapdoor. Draw the heavy bolt across it. There were places into which one shouldn’t trespass.
The call from Raj’s speech therapist came completely out of the blue. She’d met the woman, of course. She was expensive. The best. They’d been very happy with her work.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Matharu.”
“That’s quite all right. What can I do for you?”
“I’d really prefer to have this conversation face-to-face, but—well, it’s a difficult matter. I wanted to speak to you as soon as I could. Your husband came to see me.”
“Alone?”
“No. He brought Raj in for his appointment earlier today. But he asked if he could see me without Raj. Without Raj being in the room.”
“Why ever would he do that?”
“I don’t know why he chose me. Maybe because I’m—well, he may have thought I’d understand. This isn’t my area, of course. But I found what he told me—alarming. He has ideations. He seems very scared.”
“Ideations?”
“He’s got the notion that Raj isn’t your son. It’s unusual, but not totally without precedent. He told me he believes Raj—the real Raj—has been swapped for an identical double. A twin. I don’t know why he chose me to confess to, but I believe this thought has been in his mind for some time. He knows it’s not normal. He knows there’s no logical explanation. He’s very troubled by it.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I asked him how he knew about the substitution. How he’d noticed. What had changed. He told me absolutely everything was just like Raj, except it was clear to him that it wasn’t the same boy. This Raj is identical in every respect to your son, but in some essential respect he’s not the same boy.”
“But that’s crazy. It doesn’t make any sense. He really thinks this? That someone’s swapped Raj for a double?”
“Maybe, with the kidnap, the trauma …”
“You’re telling me he’s gone insane. That’s basically what you’re telling me.”
“I certainly think there are grounds for seeing a psychiatrist. Strong grounds. You’ve both—your family has undergone a great deal of stress. It’s possible that this is merely a reaction. Perhaps with rest, maybe some kind of medication, it will all be resolved. This is very tricky, Mrs. Matharu, and, as I say, I’m not qualified to make a diagnosis. You really need to see a specialist. Your husband has assured me he doesn’t want to harm Raj. He’s not hearing voices, or experiencing compulsions. He says he’s no danger to the boy.”
“Oh God! He’s out with him now. What should I do? Should I call the police?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. As I say, he claims he’s not going to harm him. Why don’t you wait and talk to him yourself? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. This must be very distressing. If you need a recommendation, maybe I can call around and get you a name.…”
Lisa sat at the kitchen counter, twisting from side to side on a high stool. She felt stalled, short-circuited. She poured out the contents of the bowl into which they habitually threw spare change. She lined up coins to make patterns and moved them about with her forefinger, a game with no clear rules. Finally, she heard Jaz opening the front door and the sound of coats and boots being removed in the hall. Raj came barreling in. She scooped him up, held him tight.
She didn’t know how to start. Jaz started chatting, asking about her day. They’d booked the sitter. They had plans to go out to the cinema. What did she want to see? He seemed completely normal. She watched him. Did he seem more tense than usual? Did he seem frightened?
“I had a call from Dr. Siddiqi.”
“Oh yes?”
“Jaz, I don’t understand. She said you’d told her Raj wasn’t our son.”
Suddenly his face collapsed. He looked hollow. She knew then that it was true. Involuntarily she put her hand up to her mouth. He was shaking his head, holding out his open palms in a gesture of pacification.
“Look,” he said. And again. “Look.”
“What’s going on?”
“I know it’s not logical. But surely you of all people should understand.”
“I should understand? Why?”
“You believe in—all this stuff.”
“All what stuff?”
“You told me you thought it was a miracle.”
“A miracle that he came back. I don’t think he’s being—what? Impersonated? I don’t even know what you think is happening. What did you tell that woman?”
“I can’t—not while he’s here. Raj, go play in the other room.”
Raj looked from one to the other, confusion flickering on his face.
“Go on, darling. Go play. Why not find your dinosaurs? You can take them to the living room.”
Raj obeyed. Jaz sank down onto a chair, put his head in his hands.
“Lisa, I know how weird this sounds.”
“You have no idea. What exactly did you say to her? She told me you need to see a psychiatrist. She told me she didn’t think you intended to harm our son. She had to say that—she didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be sure.”
“I’d never do anything to him. I swear.”
“So what’s going on? It’s Raj. Can’t you see that? There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing’s changed.”
“I can’t put a finger on it. It’s as if—as if something’s wearing his skin.”
“You’re terrifying. I can’t believe I’m hearing you say this.”
“I know how it sounds. I’m scared too, Lisa. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“You need to talk to someone.”
“A shrink?”
“Yes, a shrink. God, you’ve been with him all this time, wheeling him around the city. Wherever it is you go. Anything could have happened.”
“I swear I’d never hurt him.”
“But you don’t even think it’s him. You think it’s something wearing his skin.”
“Lisa, I’ll see a shrink. Whatever you want. If it’s me, my mind or whatever, I’ll get it sorted out. But don’t you ever think it’s strange, the way he’s changing? He’s completely different.”
“Yes, he is. He’s better. I don’t understand why you find that so hard to accept. It’s what we’ve been praying for, and now you won’t even believe it.”
“I need to know what happened to him. I can’t stand not knowing. There’s something different about him. And yes, I don’t feel like it’s him. I can’t tell you why. Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you?”
“Looks at me?”
“At both of us. Like he’s ancient. Like he knows all our secrets.”
“He’s a little boy, Jaz. He’s just a little boy. I want you to sleep downstairs tonight. I don’t want you near us.”
“That’s ridiculous, Lisa.”
“Ridiculous. Really?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Stay away, Jaz. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. This is too weird. You have to give me space.”
“Look at him, Lisa. That’s all I ask of you. Really look at him.”
She took Raj upstairs. As she got him ready for bed, brushing his teeth and helping him into his pajamas, she could hear Jaz roaming about downstairs, slamming doors, angrily rattling about in the kitchen. After a while the sound of the TV came filtering through the floor, some cop show, the volume turned up high.
Before she went to sleep, she wedged a chair under the door.
The next morning Jaz hung around in the kitchen doorway as she phoned Karl and told him she couldn’t make it in to work.
“You don’t have to do that,” Jaz said. “I’m not some kind of maniac.”
“I’m not leaving him with you.”
“I promise, Lisa. I’ll go to a shrink. Find one. Make an appointment. I’ll go.”
That day she didn’t let Raj out of her sight. She sat at the kitchen table with her MacBook, looking up psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, therapists of various kinds. Dr. Siddiqi had e-mailed a couple of names, and in the end it was one of them she phoned. She prayed silently for guidance before she went into the study, where Jaz was lying on the floor, doing stretches.
“That couch has destroyed my back.”
“I’m sorry you had an uncomfortable night.”
“OK.”
“I need to know you’re not a danger.”
“I see.”
“I can’t take the risk.”
“I’m not—”
“I know, you’re not a danger. I found you a psychiatrist. Here’s his name, and his number. You can see him Thursday afternoon. I thought you’d prefer a guy.”
“You did? OK.”
“You want to see a woman?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll see this”—he looked at the paper—“Dr. Zuckerman.”
She was relieved. That night, she and Jaz slept in the same bed, though she pulled the dresser partway across the door, so if he got up and moved it, he’d make a noise. He looked angry.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
She shrugged. “Then you’ll wake me up.”
“OK, whatever you want.”
In the morning she phoned Karl, trying to let him know something serious was happening, without divulging details. She’d tell him. She’d already decided that. But she wanted to speak to him face-to-face, preferably over lunch. He’d be sympathetic. He might even be able to help.
“I can’t come in. It’s—a personal situation. I’m so sorry. Yes, I know about that. I’ll call him and reschedule. He can’t? I see. That’s tricky.”
Jaz was standing behind her, so close that when he spoke it made her jump.
“Come on, Lisa. You can’t do this forever. I haven’t hurt him. I won’t hurt him. I never would.”
“Jaz! I’m sorry, Karl, could you hold the line a moment? What the hell, Jaz?”
“Go to work. I’ll look after him.”
The meeting was important, and Karl seemed mystified—not annoyed exactly, but certainly not as understanding as she’d hoped. As she slid her papers into a bag, she reasoned to herself that Jaz had been with Raj several days a week for months, without any problems. It would probably be fine. As she left for work, the two of them stood on the stoop and waved her off.
It’d be fine.
At lunchtime she phoned Jaz’s cell. “Where are you?” she asked, straining to hear in case there was traffic noise in the background. She’d asked Jaz not to go out with him. Just stay home, she’d said. I’ll be back early anyway.
His voice was breezy. “Oh, we’re at home.”
“Everything OK?”
“Peachy.”
Something about his tone didn’t sound right. After she rang off, she sat at her desk for a few minutes, the wrong feeling working its way down into her chest, her gut. Without a word to Karl or Teri, who were looking at some cover designs, she grabbed her bag and went out onto First Avenue to look for a taxi.
She got back home just in time. Jaz and Raj were already outside. Raj was wearing his little yellow rain poncho. The trunk of the car was open. Jaz was stowing a bag inside. She shoved some bills through the taxi driver’s window and ran to the front of the car, placing herself between Raj and Jaz.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“I have to do this, Lisa. Don’t stop me.”
“Where are you taking him?”
“Where do you think? We have to go back there. Unless we find out what happened, we’ll never be able to move on.”
“You were just going to abduct him? Drive off, without telling me?”
“You think I’m insane. There’s no way I could explain to you.”
“You can’t take him.”
“If we don’t go today, we’ll have to go sooner or later. You can’t keep denying it forever.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“There’s every need. You’ve gone insane. You’re abducting our son.”
“Come with me.”
“You’re sick, Jaz. You need help.”
“You know you have questions. Come with me. We’ll find out together. We’ll solve this. There’s an explanation.”
They’d been raising their voices. Lisa was aware of a neighbor standing and watching them from across the street. She waved her hand, trying to look jaunty, unconcerned.
“Come inside, Jaz. Please. We can talk inside.”
“Only if you’ll agree to come with us.”
“OK, OK. Anything you say. Let’s just do this inside.”
“Raj, Mummy’s coming too! We’re going on an adventure! Isn’t it exciting?”
An hour later they were on their way to JFK, inching through the afternoon rush-hour traffic. Jaz was at the wheel. She was sitting in the back with Raj, who was strapped into his booster seat, swinging his legs and counting off the vehicles in the other lane.
“Blue car,” he said. “Red car. Red car white car black car blue car white car.”
She felt as if she were being kidnapped. Strap-hanging on the subway, she’d sometimes see another passenger reading a Bible. Usually they were black or Latino, heading in to minimum-wage jobs in the city. Cleaners, custodians. She’d always imagined their faith in God as primarily a protective thing. Warding off debt, family illness. Their Bibles were usually well thumbed, often in foreign languages. Sometimes passages were underlined or highlighted with fluorescent marker. She’d always felt not above, exactly, but far away from such people. Now she wished she had her own dog-eared, familiar book, something she could clutch in her hand as they made that terrible journey.
At the airport Jaz parked the car in the long-term parking lot and carried the cases toward the terminal. She wondered if she ought to make a run for it, perhaps find a cop. What should she say? Jaz was so determined. Unless she could have him arrested, committed to a mental hospital, there was no way of stopping him. She imagined herself carrying Raj, fleeing along a moving walkway. It was useless. Maybe, she told herself, by going along with this, she’d help him see how lost he was.
They bought tickets for Las Vegas and sat warily in the lounge, half watching TV. News commentators were arguing about the war. The withdrawal from Iraq. The ramping up of operations in Afghanistan. There were brief images of mountains, bleak sandy desert. It was like a premonition.
“Are we going on a plane, Mommy?” asked Raj.
“Yes, dear.”
“Are we going to see Grandma Patty and Grandpa Louis?”
“No, baby. We’re just going to where you were when you were away.”
“Where’s that?”
Jaz leaned forward so he could hear. “Where you were. When you went away. You weren’t with us.”
“I couldn’t see you.”
“That’s right.”
“I was asleep.”
“No, Raj. Not when you were asleep. When you didn’t see us for a long time.”
“I went night-night.”
“No, Raj.”
“Leave him, Jaz. Leave him alone.”
Secretly she’d been sending texts. SOS messages to her mom, to Esther. Jaz behaving manically. Forcing us to go back to desert. Please help. When her mom called, Jaz looked over sharply. Don’t pick it up, he said. Don’t answer.
The flight was interminable. At McCarran they waited in line to rent a car. Neither would leave the other alone with Raj, each convinced that there would be trickery, that the other would try to sneak off. She hung around outside the men’s bathroom while Jaz and Raj were inside. When she needed to pee, she insisted on taking the boy in with her, even as he complained he didn’t need to go and she was hurting his wrist.
Locked in a cubicle, she called Esther.
“Are you OK?” she asked. “Has he threatened you?”
“No, nothing like that. But he says Raj isn’t Raj. That the real Raj has been replaced by something else. He thinks if we go back to the rocks we’ll solve some kind of mystery. He’s gone crazy, Esther. I don’t know what to do.”
“Why ever did you let him get you on a plane?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It seemed simpler. I thought if I let him go through with it, he might see how crazy he’s being.”
“You might be right. Once he gets there, he’ll probably calm down. How far away is it?”
“A couple of hours’ drive.”
“Do you want me to send the police?”
“I don’t know. What will they do? Jaz can fool people into thinking he’s normal. He’ll probably have some explanation for them.”
“I could call them anyway, let them know there’s a situation. It might be easier than you just grabbing one and causing a scene.”
“OK. Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. Look, maybe we should hold off. I’ll call you when we get there. If you don’t hear from me, phone them.”
“Good luck, dear.”
“Thanks, Esther. Speak to you later.”
Jaz was waiting outside the door, suspicious, antsy.
“What took you so long?”
She didn’t reply. She fitted Raj into the booster seat, then got in and waited for Jaz to settle himself. No harm can come to you, she thought. Not in any way that matters. You’re a child of a loving, personal God, whose infinite care and wisdom surrounds you now and forever. This is the world you live in. A world infused with the spirit of God.
It was late afternoon. Vegas ebbed away into drab suburbs, then trailer parks and vacant lots, fronted by billboards advertising future developments, casinos, personal-injury lawyers, evangelical churches, strip clubs. Then the land rose up in its full intensity, white rock tinted pale yellow by the lowering sun. Jaz turned off the interstate onto a two-lane blacktop. By now the land was burnished gold, the mountains in the distance a copper-red.
