Raveling by Peter Moore Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

disappeared.”
    Katherine was silent, her eyes wide.
    “It was very traumatic, and Pilot suffered—” Eric seemed about to describe something more specific, but then he said, “Well,
     he suffered.”
    “What was that particular episode like?”
    He looked away. “It wasn’t like this one, really. It was more about being dissociative. He was down on all fours, snarling
     and growling like a dog, pretending he couldn’t understand English. He was getting lost in a game of make-believe, I guess.”
    I am the wolf boy
, I wanted to say.
I’ll tear out your carotid artery with my bare hands
.
    “Were there any particular symptoms of schizophrenia then?” Katherine asked. “I mean, that you can see from your medical
     perspective now?”
    Eric ran his tongue across his teeth. “Pilot was not always very coherent in those days, and he was always drawn to the woods.”
     His eyes flickered toward the window. “I guess the early signs of psychosis were present.”
    Katherine couldn’t help but turn and look out there, too. The sky was darkening, the blue growing deeper. “May I ask what
     happened to your sister?”
    “We never found her.”
    “She was abducted?”
    “Children are abducted every day.” My brother looked at Katherine directly for the first time, it seemed. “And not all of
     them are recovered.” His head was cocked at a slight angle now. “Just buy a carton of milk.”
    “Of course.” She made her eyes soften, using them to reassure. “The only reason I’m asking is that, is that I’m wondering
     if Pilot felt somehow responsible.” She kept her eyes on him, waiting for Eric to break the gaze. “About your sister, that
     is, which might explain the dissociative—”
    “We all felt responsible.” Eric kept staring back. “But that was—” his entire tone changing “—that was twenty years ago.”
    “Have there ever been any other episodes?”
    “Not really. Not like this.”
    “Any other traumas?”
    It was a game now, their eyes playing truth or dare. He finally looked away. “Pilot has always been shaky, you know, psychologically
     speaking. He’s never had many friends. He’s had a fair amount of trouble in school, bad grades, truancy, a lot of depression.
     He was living in North Carolina until recently—”
    “How recently?”
    “Just six or seven months ago, and then he went to Los Angeles. He told our mother that he was in negotiations to sell a screenplay,
     but what we found out later was that he was just living on the beach in Santa Monica. Are you familiar with the area?”
    “Not really.”
    “There’s a lot of homelessness out there. Anyway, I had to go out and retrieve him, and ever since then he’s been living at
     home.”
    “Was there any psychotic behavior on the beach?”
    “He was drinking a lot, I think, and smoking grass.” Eric shook his head as though ashamed. “Maybe other drugs. I didn’t notice
     any deeply unusual behavior. I mean, beyond—”
    “Has he had problems with substance abuse, with alcohol?”
    “Some problems,” my brother said as if he knew. “No serious addictions, I think. But yes, some problems over the years. More
     with drugs than drinking.”
    Katherine allowed a moment to pass, artificially shifting a few pieces of paper around on her desk. She wanted Eric to know
     that she doubted him, that she didn’t believe he had all the answers. “I’m trying to put a finger,” she said finally, “on
     something environmental, a concern, a stressor, perhaps, anything that might have triggered this, this reaction.” She narrowed
     her eyes, asking, “Is everything in your family okay?”
    Too quickly, he said, “Yes.”
    “Your father, he’s deceased?”
    “My father? Oh no.” My brother flashed a loud smile. “Far from it. Our parents are divorced, that’s all. Dad lives in Florida.”
     He laughed brightly, an intense
ha
, more like a bark. “He’s retired, but he’s—well, he’s not