The Answers Are

She woke up with a start, thinking the door had been opened in her sleep and he was standing at the edge of her bed watching her breathe. The room was dark save for the sliver of light coming through the closed bathroom door. The chain on the front door remained undisturbed.

Her son stirred in his sleep, as if aware of his mother's fear. She rubbed his back for a while and he sucked on his pacifier twice before letting it dangle between his lips.

She drew up her knees to her chin and tried to quell her racing heart. Maybe this was a mistake.

How good is he?
How warm is his heart

She badly wanted him to be the man who proposed to her on that camping trip, the man she married, the man who was so tender and careful on their first night together. That man would help her now, tell her what to do, keep her safe. The man she left tonight wouldn't even ask forgiveness for what he did, so sure is he of the righteousness of his every action.

I wake up and wait up
When anger's in fashion

Is it genetic, this much anger and irrational behavior? She stroked her sons hair and promised to bring him up differently. This one will be true, this one will be happy, this one will smile and let things go.

I wake up and wait up
It echoes through the mansions

She wished the long road ahead wouldn't be so hard. She wished she wouldn't have to run all the time, looking over her shoulder for a small glimpse of him. She wished she wouldn't have to wake up every morning and watch for signs of her son slowly transforming, growing into another him. She wanted so bad for him to different.

She wanted to go back. She wanted to be a better wife, maybe. She wanted him.

If he's truly out of sight
Is he truly out of mind?

*Fatal, words and music: Stone Gossard, Lost Dogs, 2003*