Cover

Title

Hieroglyphics

A NOVEL

Jill McCorkle

ALGONQUIN BOOKS OF CHAPEL HILL 2020

Dedication

For Claudia and Rob—
there are no words or symbols that can adequately
express my love

Languages die like rivers.

Words wrapped round your tongue today

And broken to shape of thought

Between your teeth and lips speaking

Now and today

Shall be faded hieroglyphics

Ten thousand years from now.

—Carl Sandburg, “Languages”

Shelley

Lately, Shelley hears things in the middle of the night, hinges creaking and papers rustling, but it could be anything—the dog, her son, a mouse, the wind—and she forces her mind to stop right there so she doesn’t imagine possibilities that would terrify her, like a killer or a ghost. It doesn’t help that that old man rides by so often now, his green Toyota slowing in front of the house and then circling the block.

“I grew up here,” he said that first time—now over a year ago—when he parked and came up to the door. His dress shirt was damp with perspiration, and he wiped his face with a handkerchief he then tucked in his shirt pocket. “I would love to see inside if convenient. My wife, too.” He pointed to the car, where an old woman lifted her hand in a wave and smiled with what seemed the same weary patience Shelley feels when dealing with her son.

“I moved here when I was ten,” he continued. And though with tired, kind eyes he seemed harmless enough, Shelley kept the chain in place while he told her a few more things: There used to be a big sycamore tree, and the cemetery nearby was contained in the old gated part, thick with pines and magnolias, and not like now, sprawled all the way to Highway 211 where they are building a Taco Bell. He said his mother and his stepfather died in the house, which was certainly not something she wanted to hear and she certainly didn’t want Harvey to hear. But of course he did.

“People died?” Harvey asked, and stepped closer to the door. He was playing Superhero and had a beach towel around his shoulders and a Batman mask his older brother, Jason, had worn one Halloween when he was much younger.

“Long ago,” the man said, and waved his hand, clearly trying to put Harvey at ease. “They were old.”

“Were they mean?”

“Not at all.” The man looked like he was about to say something else, but Harvey ran back into the living room, where he was watching Nickelodeon while jumping on the sofa, something Shelley had given up trying to control.