I spent the rest of the morning in the back garden, among the fuchsia coneflowers, yellow tickseed, and silver-green lamb’s ears. I had been neglecting the garden terribly, and it was almost beyond redemption, but it felt grounding to put in the hours. I was hidden from view by the backyard’s fences; only neighbours in their second-floor bedrooms could glimpse me, but I doubted any would be up there in the middle of the day. At one point I sank my hands into the hot earth. I closed my eyes, and I could have sworn I actually felt The Hum thrumming ever so subtly through the ground. I got lost in the sensation, and let time slowly slip past me. Worms roiled through my fingers as I sank deeper into the pulse. Bugs alighted on my neck, and scaled my arms. I let myself become their landscape. I pressed myself down into it. Merged with it. I began to feel loose, like my soul could slip right out from my skin, like a shirt sloughing off a wire hanger. But as the minutes passed, this looseness, this immaterial feeling that felt so liberating earlier in the morning began to intensify, as The Hum seemed to grow louder, until, in a quiet panic, I wondered—Was it overtaking me? Was I disappearing into it?

I walked back into the house, unsteady, and washed my hands in the kitchen sink. I tried calling Kyle, but it went straight to voicemail, which meant he still hadn’t charged his phone. Was he feeling the same sense of slippage, of disappearance? I told myself to snap out of it. I was fine. Maybe just a little overheated from the sun. I poured myself a glass of water. I gripped the kitchen counter. I found its sturdiness reassuring. I pressed my fingers against its cool surface and the sensation seemed to confirm that I was still there, corporeal, interacting as a single body within the physical world.

Once I had gathered myself, I considered walking down to the park to check in on Kyle. I even considered calling Child Services—but on behalf of a seventeen-year-old? No. That would only complicate things, and he would never forgive me for it. I debated calling Jo to ask for her guidance about Kyle’s situation, but then she would have an obligation to tell the authorities. I’d also be betraying Kyle’s confidence. If he needed me, he would be in touch. I felt hot rage when I thought of Brenda kicking him out—and after putting me through the goddamn ringer. She excoriated me for showing a bit of kindness and attention to her son, and then threw him out on the street.