Brent had grown up with parents who believed that bad things happened to people who had not lived right, and he said their affection for Harvey would have been compromised by that, and Shelley said, well, then she was glad they were dead, and he looked like he wanted to slap her. Even though he agreed with her, his impulse was to defend them and their old backward ways. She and Brent disagreed on so many things, like he liked that creepy Elf on the Shelf and wanted to get one so Harvey would behave better, but she said everybody needs privacy and that kind of spying is just wrong. Now the memory leaves her cold, leaves her studying the house for signs of someone watching her. She hated the way people say God is always watching you and remembers asking, “Even when I pee?” And being sent from a classroom. She is sure what she felt then is what Harvey is feeling all those times he is standing there beside the bed waiting for her to wake. “Mom? Mom?” His breath like old chocolate milk and Starburst candies.

Shelley has not always told the truth, and now it is all coming and filling her head as she watches people holding up their right hands and swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, and sometimes a word will fly in and get stuck, like fly to flypaper, lint on an album; like the way the word purchase keeps flying in, the word perhaps having a little surge in popularity, as words often do. Lately it has gotten traction. If you were someone hearing voices or reading signs, you might think this has meaning, you might think it is a sign. And she does. She does think that. Harvey has put a note in the pocket of her sweater, and it is in his little code, but she can’t take the time to study it now. Klingon. He keeps begging her to teach him shorthand. Jason told him computer coding would be much more lucrative, and she felt so proud to hear her son use such words: lucrative, coding.