Grand & Humble (11 page)

The light turned green, and a red 360 Modena Ferrari peeled out right in front of Harlan. He knew he’d been to this intersection before; he just couldn’t think when. It was the corner of Grand and Humble, and Harlan was standing by the crosswalk waiting for the light to change. He’d come downtown on a Saturday to walk around a bit, and to maybe pick out a new Speedo at the swim shop up the street.

Then it hit him. This was the exact spot where he’d almost been hit by that bus the night of the Bittle Society dinner. The streets had been so foggy then that he’d stepped right out into its path. Things sure looked different in the daylight.

A lot had changed since that night. Or maybe just one thing: he’d finally stood up to his mom. It was
only one change, but it was a doozy. It meant that he was in control of his life now; he was sitting behind the wheel. So it made sense that there wasn’t any fog on these downtown streets now, that everything was bright and clear and dazzling—the fog had been swept out of his life as well. He didn’t need Marilyn Swan after all, because he knew any dark forces were well and truly gone.

Well, most of them, anyway. True, he wouldn’t have his mom telling him what to do anymore. But there was still the small matter of figuring out what he wanted to do.

Oh, that, he thought to himself.

Yeah, that.

The light changed to “Walk,” and Harlan moved to cross the street. But as he did, he felt someone tapping on his shoulder.

It was Elsa, that girl from school. She was the first person he’d told about his premonitions—that afternoon in the school theater after class.

“Oh!” Harlan said. “Hey!” He stopped right there on the corner, letting the pedestrians headed for the crosswalk pass by them on either side.

I thought it was you
! she signed excitedly.
What are you doing downtown?

He started signing to her.
Just wandering
. The
light changed to “Don’t Walk,” but that was okay.

How’s it going?
she asked. He knew she meant with the premonitions.

To tell you the truth
, he said,
it’s going great. You were right, you know. I just needed a little more control.
Harlan had signed with lots of deaf people before—the impaired kids he worked with at the YMCA, and elsewhere. But it had never felt this effortless. With Elsa, it was almost like they had their own private language.

Yeah?
Elsa signed.
That’s fantastic!

Harlan smiled.
How about you? Did you ever ask that guy out? The one you had a crush on?

What?
Elsa said.
Oh, no. Not yet
. She didn’t grimace or mug, the way Harlan would have expected her to. She blushed, flustered by the question.

And in a flash, Harlan knew: it was him.
He
was the guy Elsa had the crush on. Duh! It was so obvious! How could he have not seen it that day in the theater?

Out on the street, the light changed, and a car laid on the horn for a slow-moving pedestrian.

What about you?
Elsa signed.
Did you ever break up with Amber?

Actually, she broke up with me
, Harlan said.
Through e-mail
. It was true. She’d sent him a breakup
e-mail that was all of four words long: “Let’s break up, k?” And that was fine with Harlan.

So what are you doing downtown?
he asked.

Actually, I’m scouting locations for this movie I’m working on.

Really? What’s it about?

She slouched.
Oh, nothing. It’s stupid. It’s just this dumb video
.

Come on!
he said.

Well, it’s called
Im-Patient.
It’s about a deaf guy who waits so long at his doctor’s office that he finally goes berserk. He destroys the office, then goes running through the streets screaming
.

Harlan laughed.
Hey, that sounds great! Let me know if you need any help
.

Seriously?
she asked.

Sure, why not?

She straightened a bit.
As a matter of fact, I do need an actor. And it’s the lead
!

Really? The patient?
It took a second for Harlan to imagine himself as an actual actor. But to his surprise, the idea excited him.

“Hey,” said a voice behind Harlan. “You crossing or not?”

Harlan turned. It was a guy in a wheelchair trying to cross the street, but Harlan was standing in front
of the ramp. Across the street, the signal had changed to “Walk” again.

“Hey, man, sorry,” Harlan said, stepping out of the way. He looked at Elsa again.
Well
, he signed,
I should probably
…

You busy now?
Elsa signed quickly.

No. Why?

Maybe we could get a cup of coffee or something
. She quickly added,
We could talk about the role?

Harlan smiled. Was she asking him out? Well, why not? Hadn’t he encouraged her to ask out the guy she had a crush on? And why shouldn’t he go? She was smart and funny. Even if it turned out there wasn’t any chemistry there, at least he might make another friend.

He bowed gallantly.
I’m all yours.

And with that, Elsa blushed and turned away from the crosswalk, leading him on down the sidewalk.

The red car right in front of Manny screeched as it took off from the intersection. He didn’t know what kind of car it was—a Ferrari?—but he knew it was expensive (and that the driver was almost certainly an asshole). On the far side of the crosswalk, the signal now read “Don’t Walk”—perfectly in focus,
Manny noticed; his eyes were never out of focus these days, and his headaches were gone too. But he wasn’t there waiting to cross the street. He’d come here, to the corner of Grand and Humble, to see the place where his adoptive parents had been killed.

This was where it had happened: where he’d been riding in a car with his onetime parents and they’d been hit by that truck. They’d died, but he’d lived. So it was also the spot where his life had peeled off in a completely different direction.

What would have happened if they hadn’t died, these parents Manny had never met—who, before a few days ago, he hadn’t even known existed? What would his life be like now if that accident hadn’t occurred—if the truck had managed to slam on its brakes or if, at the last second, his parents had somehow happened to swerve out of the way?

Across the street, the signal changed back to “Walk,” but Manny didn’t move. He couldn’t, not just yet. He saw pedestrians surge by on either side of him, caught a couple of people glancing back at him standing there, unmoving, on the sidewalk, their faces flickering with glimmers of confusion or annoyance.

Manny knew his life would be different if his adoptive parents had lived, but
how
different? He
might still live in the same city, but would he go to the same high school? Would Elsa be his best friend? And would
he
be different? Having been shaped by an entirely different set of circumstances from age three until today, would he have any of the same interests, the same sensibilities? Would he even be recognizable as the same person?

Manny couldn’t help but wonder which life would be “better.” The way things had worked out, it almost seemed that even though his life had been knocked off course by his dad’s screwup with the bathtub, things had eventually righted themselves and he’d ended up back where he was supposed to be all along—with his dad. But what if it was the other way around? What if it was the incident in the bathtub that had put his life on the “right” road with his new parents and the death of those parents had pushed him off-track again?

On the other side of the crosswalk, the light changed back to “Don’t Walk.” But the words were still flashing, so a couple of straggling pedestrians dashed out into the street in an effort to beat the light. Some ten seconds later, an Asian teenager sauntered into the crosswalk, indifferent to—or maybe taking secret satisfaction in—the fact that he was going to hold up traffic.

Manny started laughing. The teenager glanced back at him, scowling, thinking Manny was laughing at him. But it was something else that had made him laugh—a moment of absolute focus.

His life wasn’t about any
two
directions! Sure, the thing with the bathtub and the accident here at Grand and Humble had changed the course of his life. But something probably happened every day, maybe even every hour, that changed the direction of his life, turning him one way or another. Some of these events Manny might control, but most of them he didn’t; most of them were the result of random chance—or at least forces way beyond
his
control. As for all those other lives he never lived, well, some really might have been “better” than the one he was experiencing now. But Manny had no way of comparing! Because once he took a step—or was pushed—in any one direction, all those other lives faded into the gloom. All that ever existed was the here and now. The only choice Manny had was making the best of that.

“Hey,” said a voice behind him. “You crossing or not?”

“Huh?” Manny said, jumping a little. There was a guy in a wheelchair just behind him. The signal had changed to “Walk” again, but Manny was blocking
the ramp into the street. “Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

And with that, Manny stepped forward into the crosswalk and continued on to the opposite side of the street.