Short Story Preview: Included
Everything else has transformed over time, even Slough. But the old songs are intact in the storage facility. There was one, after Adam died, that I knew I shouldn’t play when I was alone, but I used to put the LP on the deck, and sit and shake. Without You from Nilsson Schmilsson: an enormous hit from the year my boy started school. Between simmering verses, there’s a chorus where the loss bursts its lid. That track was how we were, together in the house, the car, the town. We talked the verses, muted and beaten – while inside, the chorus kept roaring.
When I said I wanted to move, John didn’t see the need.
“We won’t leave it behind,” he said.
I knew it meant him. John was finding the name hard to say. “Adam will be with us wherever we go,” I told him. “How could we bear anything else?”