Night Matters, Part 6

"You're sure I can't get you anything?"

"I'm sure."

Aaron is at the cabinet against the wall. He turns Sarah's little brass clock to its side, winding it until its nauseating tick picks up where it left off.

"Why are you here?"

"Your brother-in-law called me." He fingers the chipped finish in the cabinetry now, concentrating like a surgeon mid-operation. "He said he found you laid out in the yard this morning. You were naked?"

"That's why you're here? Because I was naked?"

"We know why I'm here."

"Maybe we do, but I'm not leaving this house."

"You're a mess. You and this house. I can't in good conscience let you stay here. Not alone, at least."

"Been doing it for some time, in case you haven't noticed. I'm staying."

"Well then until you agree to go with me, so am I."

"Do what you want."

"I want your sanity back, can't you understand that?"

"I appreciate this out of nowhere concern, Aaron, I do, but I don't need you tending me like I'm some invalid ready to die."

"You should hear yourself talk. You might as well have dementia."

"There are things people like you and Ferguson can't understand."

"Like what, grieving?" Aaron moves back to the couch. He's allowed that red indignant colour to take him over already, a souvenir of spoiled-child tirades from years ago.  "What about mom and dad, or did that only happen to you?"

"How do you win your sanity back after losing your wife? Aaron, I lost a child."

"You seem to forget, big brother. I too lost a child."