Besides the two of them the room is empty, he’s well aware of that, he hasn’t lost his grip on reality so completely; and yet, and yet, he somehow, with some sense clearer than sight, sees himself walking across the floor, so vividly it must be happening – and then Albert comes back up to him, blocking the view, kneels at his side and lifts a hand to Phil’s forehead, like he was checking if he’s running a fever: oh, wouldn’t that be a nice, safe explanation? Would become an anecdote, something to laugh off in a day or two. If only. He grabs Albert by the elbow and holds on tight, until he’s assured without a doubt that he’s in his body, and it’s here, and it’s real, though it feels like it got all scrambled up inside. He coughs again; his throat is dry and there’s a metallic taste in his mouth.
“Get me a glass of water, will ya?” He releases his grip on Albert’s arm, only to, on second thought, grasp at it again.
“Hey, Albert… don’t mention any of this to Gordon, okay?”
Albert rolls his eyes. “Sure, dad, I won’t tell mom, but only if you make a damn good case for convincing me that this really is nothing, and believe me, from where you’re standing now it’s one hell of an uphill battle.”
He pats Phil’s knuckles. Whatever’s going on, they can sort it out. When Cooper had moments like this and no-one else was around, he usually asked Albert not to leave the room, so he’s not too sure how to wish a glass of water out of thin air, but they’ll get there one step at a time. And if handling Cooper is like herding cats, Jeffries is uncharted territory, a fascinating mystery, but this is just a slip, Albert tells himself. Nothing they cannot handle. He may be a little spooked out by the situation, but his confidence is genuine.
