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Chapter One
When Warren was ten, his grandmother became ill and came to stay in a penthouse guest room. Every day after school, Warren sat reading Bible verses to her.
One day, he showed her his new invention.
“Grandma, I know you don’t feel so good at night sometimes, so I made this for us. If you feel bad you can call me. See? You take the blue wire and tap it on the red wire like this.”
Warren touched the wires together.
“That makes the light in my room blink.”
He paused.
“And I come to see what’s the matter. Maybe you want me to read to you.”
Warren frowned, put his hand to his chin.
“I think that’s all. Grandma?” he said, moving closer to her face. “I love you.”
His grandmother’s eyes fluttered open. Her thin lips pursed.
“Warren,” she said in a clear voice, “fuck you.”
“I love you, too, Grandma.”
Her body trembled. Her eyes closed. Her breath left her in a long, thin exhale.
Warren breathed it in.
It felt cold. It tasted like rot.
He stood, turned, and closed the door behind him. He walked down the hall to the lower veranda.
His mother was sitting at a round, glass-top table, watching the steam rise from her cup of tea.
“Mother?” he said, stopping beside her. “I think Grandma died. I’m pretty sure.”
“Have you cried yet?”
“No.”
“If you need to cry, do it now before your father gets home.”
“I won’t need to.”
“You never liked her, did you?”
Warren closed his eyes.
“No, ma’am.”
