Dave had said, It was Cal.

Helen lost her peripheral vision. She could see a spot about the size of a dime in a field of black. She tried to focus on the surface of the kitchen table. It was a varnished pine table they’d bought at a yard sale and in that little circle she could see the grain of the wood and the glare of overhead light. She had willed the spot to open wider so she could take in the bowl with the apples and the side of the fridge and the linoleum and then the window and the garden. Her scalp was tingling and a drip of sweat ran from her hairline down her temple. Her face was damp with sweat as if she had been running.

Dave said they had bodies down there with just their ordinary clothes on and a few men who weren’t fully dressed like they’d just left their bunks and there were some who had their eyes open.

One man in particular, Dave said. Looked right at me. Draped in white sheets. He said they looked alive, those men. He half-expected them to move.

I can’t get over it, he said. Helen could only think of how frightened Cal must have been. He couldn’t swim. She had felt such a panic. She had wanted to know exactly what had happened to him. She had wanted that more than anything else.

Only twenty-two bodies, Dave said. She was in a panic as if something very bad was going to happen, but it had already happened. It was hard to take in that it had already happened. Why was she in a panic?

It was as if she had been split in half. Something bad was going to happen to her; and then there was the other her; the one that knew it had already happened. It was a mounting and useless panic and she did not want to faint. But she was being flooded with the truth. It wasn’t going to happen; it had already happened.

You don’t want to see him, Dave said. She was in the kitchen looking out the window over the backyard. She had the phone cord scrunched up in one hand and her other hand slipped a little on the arborite counter and made a squeak. The tap was dripping, sharp pings in the stainless steel sink. She pushed the faucet so the drip would hit a dishcloth. She watched the faucet shine with wetness and watched as the wetness gathered into a drop and it hung at the rim of the threaded washer and jiggled and fell and hit the cloth with absolute silence.

I wanted to catch you, her father-in-law said again. Before you left the house. Dave had called to spare her. He wanted to tell Helen there was no need for her to go. He seemed to want to talk.

I took hold of Cal’s hand, Dave said. His hand was there under the sheet. Had his wedding ring on. You’ll want that ring Helen and I’ll make sure you get it. I said to the man there, My son’s wife is going to want that ring. I took Cal’s hand and held on to it. I held on to his hand. I don’t think you want to see him Helen. I said the same thing to Meg. I said to his mother, I don’t think you should go over there. That’s all. That’s what I said to her. That’s all there is to it. Some of the bodies, I said. I said to Meg. I don’t think you want to see. The place is all a shambles. It’s orderly over there but there are a lot of bodies.