“Is it a virus?”

“No, Dad.”

“Can I do this to anybody?”

“Only people on your network.”

“Hyde is on my network?”

“Technically, we’re on his.”

“How is that possible?”

“He likes fancy electronics. His router’s huge.”

“How do you know how to do this?”

“School. Joe Soulsby parked his car outside the computer lab and used his laptop to mess with people during exams. He got expelled.”

“It can’t be that easy. Don’t we need a password?”

“’Giggles0501.’ We had a pizza party for dance last month. Kayla gave the kids the router password for their laptops.”

“You have everything figured out, don’t you?”

“I pay attention. Part of being an INTJ.”

“IN what?”

“Forget it.”

“How do you know it’s true?”

“Huh?”

“How do you know this stuff about Hyde?”

“Remember when we had the snow day?”

“No.”

“We had a snow day at the end of February. The roads were so bad that even Mr. Whitaker couldn’t get to work, but by the time we had dance, they plowed. Kayla told me she’d give me a ride, so I walk over to their driveway and the car’s unlocked so I get in. Then Mr. Whitaker walks out lookin’ all sketchy. He takes out his cellphone and makes a call. He doesn’t see me in the car, so I roll down my window while he lights his cigarette and I can hear him perfectly even though he’s tryin’ to be quiet. He says words like, ‘baby-girl,’ and ‘sexy,’ and ‘I love you, sweetie,’ then he tells her he’ll be online all night.”

“That’s why you think we’ll see something tonight.”

“When Kayla finally walks out he changes his voice like it’s a business call. She gets in the car, tells me to roll up the window because it’s freezing cold so I do and Mr. Whitaker waves goodbye.”

“Un--”

“--believable. I know.”

“So now what?”

“The hard part. Are you sure you’re okay with sending your thirteen-year-old daughter to do your dirty work?”

“Don’t you like our little adventures?”

“Mom walked out after our last ‘little adventure.’”

“We’re fixing that, remember?”

“Pay attention because I’m not explaining this again.”

“Teach me, young master.”

“You’ll be able to see everything on Hyde’s screen, just like it’s your own computer. If you wanted, you could control his screen; that’s what the program is really made for. After tonight, don’t move the mouse! If you move the mouse or hit a key while he’s at his computer, he’ll see it on his screen too. To connect, click the icon in the top right corner and a big green ‘connect’ button’ll pop up. To get out of screen-sharing mode and back to your computer, don’t try to click the icon; just push ‘escape’ on your keyboard. It’s the button on the top left.”

“And he won’t be able to tell when I’m connected?”

“Normally, he’d be able to. This feature comes on most computers now, and of course it tells you when somebody’s trying to connect. But that’s why I have to download the hack on his computer. That way, when you try to connect, it won’t ask his permission. Also, the icon that tells him another computer is connected... that’ll be gone.”

“So what now then?”

“I’ll go to their house and download the hack to their computer. When I give you the secret signal--”

“What’s the secret signal?”

“I’ll flash his desk lamp twice.”

“Then what?”

“When I give you the secret signal, you push connect like I showed you. When it’s connected, move the mouse around so I can make sure you’re controlling his screen. Then as soon as I give the signal again, shut it off.”

“By pushing ‘escape.’”

“Right.”

“And after tonight, it’ll just... work?”

“After I install the hack, you’ll be able to see his screen whenever you want... unless he gets a new computer, of course.”

“You’re sure that you’re okay with this?”

Janie didn’t respond.

“Honey?”

“I’m mad at him too, you know...”

Will squeezed her shoulder. “Well, Janie Carmel... I’m glad I have you on my side.”

*  *  *

It was Thursday, not Sunday, but Kayla wanted to cook with her husband anyway. The lamb chops in the freezer would make a good excuse for the break in routine, so she told Hyde that cooking night came early this week and convinced him to grab a sprig of thyme from the market on the way home from work. The camaraderie she felt while cooking and eating was the closest feeling she had to making love. (Kayla knew it was unhealthy to fantasize over elaborate scenarios, but somewhere in the back of her mind lived the hope that she could make a dinner so tasty that it would make her husband want her again.)

She scanned the green vinyl tabletop for the other half of the dolphin’s eye. The rest of his body was assembled, but his face--the easy part with all the detail--was giving her trouble. The box lid with the complete image sat against the metal leg of the card table. She never consulted the box for help! Box lids were for ammeters. She was a puzzle master.

But the arrangement of the dolphin’s face didn’t make sense! One peek won’t hurt, she thought and picked up the lid.

No! her conscience screamed. That’s cheating!

She fought the urge and won, then flung the cardboard lid across the room.

“Watch it,” Hyde said from the recliner; his first words in an hour.

“Sorry, sweetie-pie,” she said.

Hyde bowed his head. For a split second she thought he was praying. But it was just another work text on that stupid phone. He typed the message, closed the phone, laid it on his chest and refocused on the ball game.

Kayla observed her husband’s thumb rubbing sweat beads from his third beer. Hyde’s habits bothered her more each day, but after what happened to Will and Sarah, she made a conscious decision to loosen the reigns on her own hubby while trying to appreciate his positive traits.

Business was stressful anyway. If Hyde wanted a drink or two to calm down after work, she was okay with it. The second store was booming in it’s thirteenth month which meant less time with Hydey, but more financial wiggle room.

Kayla found the dolphin’s eye. “Ah-ha!” she exclaimed. 

Someone pounded at the front door.

“Who’s that?” Hyde asked.

“I don’t know, silly. Go look.”

“Honey, I’m watchin’ the game.”

“Honey, it’s recorded. Push pause.”

“Honey, you’re doing a puzzle.”

Ding dong.

Kayla held her ground. Hyde sighed and whacked down the recliner’s footrest.

Janie stepped in before Hyde could open the door. “Can I check my email on your laptop, Mr. Whitaker? Dad’s internet is out again.”

“Come right in,” Hyde joked; Janie was already opening the French doors to the study. 

“Hey there, Janie,” Kayla said.

“Hey Kay. I’ll just be a sec.”

“Chase again?”

“Who else?”

Hyde followed Janie in the study. Kayla could still hear them.

“I’ve been telling your dad to get a new router,” he said. “You should see mine; best router money can buy.”

“I’m a girl. I don’t understand technology.”

“Wait! Hold on,” Hyde said. 

Kayla looked up from her puzzle and saw her hubby closing his own programs so Janie could work.

“Don’t click around too much,” he said. “Got a lotta work stuff open.”

“Thanks,” Janie said. “I’ll take it from here.”

Hyde sauntered back to the living room. “Should I start the chops?”

“When she leaves,” Kayla whispered. “We’ll have a fun night together.”

He shrugged and plopped back in his seat.

“How’s Dad doing?” Kayla asked loud enough for Janie to hear.

“Misses Mom,” she replied.

Kayla wasn’t sure how to respond to that and regretted asking the question.

Will and Sarah were old news. Kayla prayed for forgiveness after the Christmas craziness settled down. Now she was free of the burden. Will and Janie didn’t know the truth anyway. When Hyde finally coaxed him out to the porch, Will said that Sarah never explained her reasons for the separation.

Besides, if Will knew the truth, Kayla wouldn’t be alive.

There was a time when she feared the eye of the stage. She let the lies consume her. But something changed on the evening of Will’s “O Holy Night” gag. The stage spoke to her. It beckoned her to find strength in its walls and reassurance in her happy memories of dance. In a way, it was the stage was keeping her sane.

Sarah rarely kept in touch. Kay heard more through Janie during dance lessons than over the phone with her friend.

“Shit!” Janie said from the study.

“Watch your language, Miss Janie.”

“We’re not in your studio, Kay.”

“Watch your attitude in my home, Miss Janie.”

“Yes, Miss Kayla.”

“I’m trying to watch baseball, Miss Kayla,” added Hyde.

Janie flicked on the desk lamp. Then off. Then back on.

“Everything okay?” Kayla asked.

Then back off. “Just playing with your neat lamp.”

“Only twenty bucks,” Hyde said. “I’ll sell you one for fifteen.”

Janie ignored him. Kayla didn’t blame her.

Although she wanted Hyde to break all contact with Will, part of her did understand his longing. He had dozens of friends back in the city, but got off to a bad start in Brandywine. She had a studio and dancers and dancers’ moms for company. Hyde had employees... and Will. She tried to tell him that rekindling a friendship based on life-destroying lies was a bad idea, but finally laid off when she sensed a part of him needed the companionship.

The study light turned on again; then off and on and off.

“Janie?” Kayla said but the girl was already walking into the living room.

“All done. Thanks.”

“Anytime, little-lady,” Hyde said. “Tell your pops to invite his old friend for a porch date.”

“Dad needs his space,” Janie said.

“We’re cooking pork-chops in a bit,” Kay said, knowing Janie would refuse. “We can send a couple your way when they’re finished.”

“We’re all good, but thanks.” Janie slipped out the front door.

“Hey!” Kayla shouted, and the little head popped back in. “Thirty minutes early tomorrow. Noah needs help with her ‘Cabaret’ choreography.”

“Noah always needs help with choreography,” Janie said. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’ll be there.”

“Goodnight, silly-goose.”

“Night,” she said and closed the door.

Kayla remained seated, but lifted her head to watch the girl cross the street. “Pork-chops?” she asked Hyde.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.”

*  *  *

“Damnit.”

“What? What happened?”

“The laptop gave me an error, but I think we’re okay.” Janie barreled inside, kicked off her shoes, and stopped suddenly to reorient herself.

“I moved the piano so the computer desk could go by the window--”

“So we can watch him. Nice.” She dropped on the piano bench and the computer monitor illuminated her face in the dark room. “You didn’t try to connect again, did you?”

“I only did what you told me to do. What was the error?”

“I dunno. It just said ‘ERROR’ in all caps, then a bunch of numbers.”

“I saw it too. Have you ever seen it before?”

“No, Dad. How often do you think I do this? It popped up when you connected. I pushed ‘cancel’ and it went away. Other than that, I saw when you moved the mouse and I made sure he won't be able to tell when we’re connected. We. Are. Golden.”

“Will the error pop up every time I try to connect?”

“I don’t know. It might.”

“You don’t know?”

“Just be careful. Don’t spy too often, just in case.”

Will hovered above his daughter with hands on his hips and upper teeth chewing his lower lip. She glanced up. Her eyes glimmered like Sarah’s from this angle.

“Should we try it?” she asked.

“Nope. Get ready for bed.”

“You’ll do it without me!”

“Look,” Will pulled back the curtain. “He’s not even in his office. They’re cooking.”

Janie stood from the bench. “Fine.”

He took her place. “Take a shower, brush your teeth, do... whatever it is you do at night.”

“I think I can handle it, but thanks for trying to be a parent.”

“Get outta here.” Will whipped out his arm and tickled her side.

Janie laughed and squirmed. “I’ll hurry, I’ll hurry!” she said and ran with bounding leaps up the stairs.

Will leaned to his left and peered out the window to study the house across the street. Hyde’s office was a hexagonal appendage, hanging off the living room with a row of six-foot-tall windows that held wood grilles between the double panes of glass. The room was like a cockpit to a sci-fi spaceship; Hyde could probably control the whole house from that desk.

Will slid the chalky grit of his teeth together. You told me you’d go to marriage counseling, you traitor. You said you’d tell your wife. You said you’d wait a year. Let’s see how well you keep your promises.

Will’s stomach turned. He was hungry for the first time in months.

Janie was right. This was motivating.

He found a bag of microwave-popcorn in the kitchen and nuked it for three. No butter, so he doused the snack in vegetable oil and dumped it in a plastic bowl.

He paced the kitchen, bowl in hand, waiting for his daughter to finish her routine and for his friend to start his.

Will could hear Janie’s distant chatter as she tried to get her mother off the phone.

Sarah was so certain that he would lose faith when he discovered the truth about the stage... when he was honest with himself, maybe she was right. Maybe there wasn’t a God... 

But after three months of churning deliberation while swaddled in bedsheets, Will became certain of one absolute truth: if there was a God in Heaven who witnessed the year’s tragedy unfolded in his name without lifting a finger to stop it... 

...then William Carmel would make a better God.

He was kind. He was merciful. He was vengeful. And now, with Janie’s technical assistance, he was omnipresent.

Will looked out the kitchen window to the hill at the structured pile of wood, metal and concrete. If God played no part in the inspiration, construction or inhabitation of that theater... then wasn’t it Will’s theater? He designed it, built it, paid for it, controlled it... didn’t that make the three-million-dollar prank-inspired performance space his?

It was his. And he neglected it and now it was sick. Janie saw mold; now the curtain was gone. How could he have been so careless?

Maybe it was the popcorn. Maybe it was the fact that he was finally standing upright. Maybe the news about Hyde really was inspiring. Whatever the reason for his newfound clarity, William’s brain was working again.

Dance competitions began in a month; Janie was right about that too. Pauline Woodstock might pay an advance if it meant a better show, and he could use the money to tend to his theater’s wounds of neglect. He would visit the hill in the morning to make a comprehensive list of needs.

If the theater was Will’s to inhabit, then this house was merely it’s worldly counterpart. 

He would finish the remodel on time. He would conform to mortal ways. He would resist past temptations, become free of lies, and Sarah would see him for all that he was--all that he would ever be--and she would return!

Hyde’s lamp turned on.

Will moved to the window and watched his friend twirl his chair and plop down at the open laptop. Will sat down at his own computer and proceeded as Janie explained. He held the mouse with his right hand and moved the cursor to the icon in the upper right corner of the screen. He clicked it and the green “connect” button appeared. He rolled the cursor over the button and--

An invisible force jerked his hand away from the mouse. “What the...”

The string!

Will looked at the hole in his hand. He looked at the knot. He pressed his hand back to the mouse but the cord yanked it again. He pulled back harder--using his shoulder this time--but as quickly as he jerked down his hand, the string popped it back up.

Then he remembered, his left stub had no string! He twisted his shoulders and grappled at the mouse with his taloned fingers but his right hand attacked with master control and he dropped it.

“Dad!” Janie called. “Is he there yet?”

“He just sat down!” Will called back, masking the frustration in his voice.

He marched to the kitchen. He opened the junk drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. His right hand flailed in resistance so he pinched the rogue arm between his stomach and counter, then cut the string.

Janie ran down the steps at machine-gun pace.

Will dropped the scissors in the drawer, stretched his fingers, cracked his knuckles and let the loose end of the string dangle from his free hand.

“Is he still there?” Janie asked all clean and bright like the day she was born.

“Let’s check,” he said, then walked (she scampered) to the computer by the window. Janie sat down first and Will slid her pajama’d butt across the bench to make room for himself. He offered the bowl of popcorn. “I heard you on the phone. Did you talk to that boy?”

“Later.” She grabbed a kernel and peered through the window, then whispered as if Hyde could hear. “He’s on the laptop.”

“Janie,” Will lowered his tone. “Did you talk to that boy tonight?”

“Not yet.”

“Janie,” he said again, “this is our project, right?”

The “connect” button reflected big green circles in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not stupid.” 

Father and daughter remained quiet until they reached a silent understanding.

Will nodded and tussled her wet hair. “Then let’s do this.”

Janie grabbed the clunky monitor and adjusted the screen for her height. “Did you push it yet?”

“Nope,” he said. “Just waitin’ on you.” He placed his liberated hand on the mouse and moved the cursor to the button. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” she said. 

And William clicked “connect.”