Excerpt from The Removed by Brandon Hobson, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Ernest, Sonja, and I had driven to Albuquerque to confront him. We arrived at the rental house he shared with Desiree, who was waiting for us on the front porch when we pulled into the drive. Edgar was taking a nap on the couch. When we walked in, he woke with a start and sat up. He didn't say anything, but he looked terrified. I think he knew what was happening. I sensed that Desiree had already said something to him, and that he expected us. We all sat down at the kitchen table with him and told him we were worried, his drug use out of control, he was slowly killing himself, and we didn't want to watch him die.

"You have to realize the harm you're doing to yourself," I told him. "We want you to get help before it's too late."

I thought the intervention had worked. He broke down, told us he would go to rehab as long as we paid for it. Sonja had already found a residential treatment center in Tulsa, where he agreed to check himself in the following week, but he never went. We couldn't force him to go, and his relationship with Desiree was falling apart. We had spoken to him a few times on the phone, but he mostly kept his distance from us, which surely meant he was still using. I prayed he would come home.

In the kitchen I wiped my hands on a dish towel and turned to Sonja. "Do you think there's any chance he'll show up next week?"

"He knows it's important to us," she said.

"You think so?"

"I mean, I think so."

"Tell him it's important to Ray-Ray," I said.


THAT NIGHT ERNEST WOKE ME from sleep. He was standing beside the bed with his hand on mine. I felt the coldness of his hand and sat up.

"What is it?" I said.

"There's a noise," he said. "It's coming from somewhere outside. I have to go outside and check."

"What kind of noise?"

"I don't know, a hard knock. A clanging. I heard it outside. I have to go check."

He started for the door. I didn't want him going alone, so I put on my slippers and followed him down the hall into the kitchen, where he peeked out the window. He turned on the back porch light, unlocked the door, and stepped out. I waited by the door, watching from the window while he looked around. He walked to the side of the house, then to the middle of the backyard. He stood still for a moment, as if he'd forgotten something. Then he headed to the shed, and I saw the light come on in there.

I opened the back door and walked to the shed. Once, a few years back, we kept birdfeed in large sacks out there, but that had caused a problem with mice. That was the winter Ernest was hospitalized for pneumonia, and every day when I returned home from the hospital, I found another dead mouse in a trap. We never went into the shed anymore.

"I'm looking for the rocks Edgar was talking about," Ernest said.

"What rocks?" I said.

"The colored rocks. I think he said green or red rocks."

"When?"

He hesitated, confused, so I waited for him to finish. He kept looking around. The shelves were mostly filled with old paint cans and tools. There was an old basketball trophy in the corner of the shed. Ernest picked it up and held it so that I could get a good look at it. "Edgar's trophy," he said. "Basketball from junior high. When was it?"

Things were getting more difficult at night, much worse than during the day. Sleep problems, the confusion of dreams. He had always been a deep sleeper and heavy dreamer. We used to tell each other about our dreams, laughing at the absurdity, the surreal humor, even back when the kids were still young. But now it was too difficult to watch him mumble on about things he created in his mind—hearing noises, looking for figurines.

He stared at the trophy, looking sad. It was as if he understood how confused he was. Maybe he realized the foolishness of his actions, waking up in the middle of the night and dragging us both outside to the shed. But I let him have his time.

Excerpted from The Removed by Brandon Hobson. Copyright © 2021 by Brandon Hobson. Excerpted by permission of Ecco. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.