Innocent Bystander Read Free Page B

“Have you spoken to him about it?”
    “Dr. Rosenstein? The psych? Truth is, I haven’t seen him for a while.”
    Another thing for him to worry about—Henri was off his medications. Not merely capricious when off his medications, he could also be dangerous, though only to himself.
    “The meds, they mess with my head,” Henri said.
    “Still, maybe it’s time to pay him another visit.”
    “You know how my father feels about psychiatrists. ‘Man up and face your problem,’” he said, imitating his father’s gruff voice.
    “You need to get some sleep.”
    “I’m afraid to sleep. Last night I didn’t nod off ’til four-thirty. Half an hour later I woke up covered in sweat.”
    “Maybe it’s time to see Dr. Rosenstein again.” Burnett could see Henri had zero interest in this idea. “Remember that psychology teacher we had last year, Dr. Hofstetter? Talk to him. Maybe he can give you some insight into the dream.”
    “I’m thinking about not turning in the paper.”
    Shocked, Burnett opened his mouth to speak.
    “Don’t worry,” Henri said, cutting him off, “I’ve got a couple other ideas I could do something with.”
    “In a week?”
    “Sure.”
    Burnett knew he’d lied, not about having another topic he could develop, but about his ability to have it ready in seven days. Henri was a genius with a computer full of half-finished projects, but organized he was not.
    “I’m thinking about talking to Dr. Hofstetter myself,” Burnett said. “Been having some bad dreams, too.”
    Henri sat up rigid. “The same?”
    “Completely different.”
    His body slackened after Burnett’s lie.
    “Tomorrow?” Burnett asked.
    “Maybe.”
    “We’ll both go.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Don’t you want to know what they mean? Maybe they’re trying to tell you something.”
    “I just want them to stop. I don’t care what they mean.”
    “Why?”
    Henri lifted his arms and twisted both palms upward. “I don’t know why.” He remained silent while his hands dropped to the table. “I guess I’m afraid of what they might mean.”
    “What do you think they mean?”
    “Want me to lie on a sofa first?”
    The waiter appeared with another mug and set it down in front of Henri. Burnett curled his fingers around it and slid the beer to his side of the table. He knew his friend shouldn’t be drinking, whether he’d stopped his medications or not. He also knew Henri wasn’t telling him the whole story. Far more was going on with him, but now was not the time to press.
    Henri fidgeted in his seat. He folded his hands on the table, then jammed them into his pockets. A moment later he slapped them back onto the table. He snatched a napkin and crumpled it with his left hand. “When did it all go wrong?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The whole damn thing.”
    Burnett suspected he knew where Henri was headed but chose not to lead him. “I don’t know.”
    “I remember when everything was right.”
    Now he knew. “April twenty-third?”
    “Technically it was the twenty-fourth. Very early on the twenty-fourth.”
    Burnett offered up a sad chuckle.
    Henri sniffled. “Everything seemed possible then.”
    “I know.”
    Henri stopped squirming. As though in a trance, he stared at the tiny ball that had once been a flat napkin. “Where did it go wrong?”
    That warm April night two years ago they’d vowed one of them would write a paper that would change the world. One of them, or perhaps both, would be remembered for steering the course of history down a new path. In their crazed enthusiasm and drunken stupor, they’d even sliced their thumbs with a broken Dos Equis bottle and sealed the vow with blood.
    Though it had been Henri’s idea, Burnett still felt foolish every time he recalled the episode. He found it difficult to believe that at thirty he’d so readily agreed to something many would consider childish.
    Time had tempered the fervor of that night, at least for Burnett. Henri maintained his