Lucid (33 page)

“Maggie, it’s just a washcloth. You’re scaring me.” Her little voice is so soft. I have to calm her down.

“Don’t worry. Maggie will be here soon. And you and she can walk Bella. No, it’s Boris. It’s a boy. Bella is the one with the broken leg that Dr. French rescued. She doesn’t look anything like Boris. I’m sorry.”

“Maggie?”

“She’s coming, honey. I’m her friend Sloane. Just let me finish this, and we’ll call her.” I kneel down to find those damn pins. I’ll have to make do with this little girl’s barrette. I hang the picture of Bill on the line. I’ve never noticed before, but James is in the crowd in the background. He’s staring straight at me.

The little girl is gone. I walk through her apartment, which I’ve always liked. Even though I wouldn’t give up my yard and my tree for anything. I open the front door.

“Maggie?”

I turn back. My sister, Jade, is standing there. She looks desperately upset about something. I go to her, but the closer I get, the more I can see how terrified she is. So I drop to my knees and hold out my arms. She hesitates only a heartbeat and comes into my hug, clutching me tighter than I can ever remember. Her hair smells like strawberries.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Are you?” she asks with those wide eyes.

The question catches me off guard. Why wouldn’t I be?

“Totally. But I could use one more hug.”

I get the hug. But it comes with a question. “Who’s Sloane?”

I blink. What a strange, strange thing to ask. “I don’t know,” I say. “Is it a friend of yours?”

I can feel her tense in my arms. She’s getting scared again.

“You said your name was Sloane. In the bathroom.”

I laugh. “You know, for an actress, you’d think I’d learn better diction. That is my real first name, you know. But I can’t imagine why I used it.”

“Maybe you were, like, rehearsing something.”

I can’t remember anything like that, but it seems to calm her down. So I nod as if suddenly remembering. I laugh again. “You know, I think I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on sometimes.”

“That was the scariest thing I ever saw you rehearse. Is it for a scary movie?”

“The scariest. I have to go find Andrew; will you be okay alone until Nicole gets home?”

“Boris is here. He’s our watchdog, you know. Will you tell Andrew that he owes me a spaghetti and butter sauce?”

The street is very dirty. They haven’t picked up the garbage and it’s hot out. That never happens in our little town; we’ve had the same garbageman since I was in kindergarten. Arthur. There was something about the way he would wave at me that made me uncomfortable.

This is obviously a part of town I don’t know. Which confuses me because I thought I lived here. Unless of course I’m Maggie, in which case I know this street quite well. It’s taking me to that place with the salad I like. And all the weird people who eat there and try to hide their lives from me.

The restaurant is packed because it’s raining now. Umbrellas are such odd ways of staying dry. You’d think with all the technology and everything, I mean spaceships and iPhones, somebody would have invented something a little more elegant and effective. Though I wish I had one because I’m very wet.

I have a friend in this restaurant who brings me my salad; I’m hoping he will get me dry. He sees me. I wave cheerfully since I’ve forgotten his name. He has a life partner who’s an architect and quite successful. When Andrew and I build our dream house, we’ll hire him. Bill used to paint houses in the summer. White houses are the worst. They burn your eyes. I wonder what happens to your eyeballs when you die. Sloane carries a little card with her that gives her eyeballs away to someone who needs them. She’s a good person. Better than me.

It’s a license, that card. From Connecticut. I can’t drive. I take the subway. Or the GEM. Now that Andrew is my life partner. It’s sad to have a life partner and no life. I wonder if this is how Sloane feels about Bill.

My friend the architect’s friend finds me a table. I kiss his cheek as a tip. It’s cheaper than money. I stare around at all the people pretending not to hate me. They don’t fool me. Nobody fools me. That one over there is really a criminal. If I watch her long enough, I will be able to discern her felony. I doubt that it’s violent, but contemptible nonetheless. My salad comes. It’s cold. I wish it was soup.

That woman in the blue top is a kind of hooker. A special kind. Like in Russia, where all the pretty girls make their living by being pretty. Sort of like actresses. She’s from Iowa. Where I’ve never been, although I could certainly play a girl from Iowa. Play it in my sleep. No. I laugh out loud. I play a girl from Connecticut in my sleep.

The man she’s with. The man who is paying her to be pretty. I can’t even believe this. I’m sorry, he cannot be allowed to get away with this. Someone has to do something. I stand and go to their table. They look up quizzically. As if they don’t know exactly why I’m there.

“I saw, you know. I saw you slip the gun into your pocket. That’s illegal and wrong; this isn’t that kind of a restaurant.”

They stare at me with predictably dumb expressions. Unfortunately for them, they are not professional actors, and I can see right through them.

“You have to leave,” I say, “you have to leave right now.”

The man squeezes the woman’s hand across the table. She won’t look at me. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re on, but if you don’t leave us alone, I’ll have them throw you out of here.”

“I know who you are. I know why you’ve been following me. You work with Thomas. And I know what you did to Bill.”

“Waiter?!” the hooker says nervously. But the killer holds up his hand. He wants to see how much I know.

“Bill, huh? What did I do to old Bill?”

“You killed him. You left that puppy in the road. Her name was Bella. And he had to swerve, and his car swung into that tree. And he was killed. In less than a second. His neck snapped and his head smashed on the steering wheel and there was blood all over the windshield and the leather and his blue-striped sweater. Bones popped out of his skin. And his eyes were just staring open like a fish on ice. Don’t look at me like that. You know that’s how you planned it.”

He smiles.

“Just take your gun and your skanky hooker and get out of here. These are nice people.”

He stands. He’s very big. And he smells like bad cologne, which is customarily used by his type.

“Fun time is over, sweetie. Now get the hell out of this place before I call the cops.”

I stand my ground.

“Go on. Go.”

And he shoves me. It doesn’t hurt, but hard enough to make me step back into another table. Glasses and a bottle of wine crash on the floor. I look around and the world is watching. They don’t have to pretend anymore. They can hate me and I can hate them.

The architect’s life partner comes and grabs my arm. He’s against me too. I’m surprised and hurt. He starts to pull me toward the door.

“Get your hands off of me!”

But he doesn’t. Now he’s pulling me across the floor. I swing my arms and kick, but he drags me anyway. Everyone shouts.

“I need my umbrella!” I scream. But no one cares. It’s raining outside.

One of them pushes through everyone, running toward me. I’m frightened. I cover my face so he can’t hit me.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll take care of her.”

It’s him. It’s someone I know. It isn’t James, though. James is beautiful and perfect. And James would be angry. This is the other one. The one who loves me.

Andrew wraps his jacket around me. And hugs me tight as he takes me to the door. I’m grounded in my body by his touch. It’s raining harder now. He holds his jacket over my head and we go to his tiny, ridiculous car. He settles me in the passenger seat and buckles my seat belt for me as if I am Jade. He ignores the rain pounding down on him and leans close and tells me everything is going to be all right.

If he only knew.

Come to think, he probably does.

As we drive to his place, I’m not listening to his soft words. I’m wondering if he can read my mind. Since all of us are Sloane’s creation, then all of our minds are hers, and even if they can’t read my mind, they’re all following her orders, trying to make me stay. So that she can kiss Andrew instead of James. That’s not as crazy as it sounds. She dreams of Andrew because he’s the one she really wants to kiss, which she can only do through me.

We climb the steps to his apartment. I realize how cold I’ve been because now I’m shaking so hard I can’t control it. He turns on his
shower, steamy hot. He takes off all of my clothes. They are sticking to me from the rainwater. He puts me in the shower and I sit down on the tile. He sticks his hand through the curtain to hold mine. He’s never seen me naked before. I’m very naked. I think I’m crying because there’s salty water on my face.

When I’m warm and dry, I climb into his big bed, under his down comforter. I’m not naked now. He gave me a sweatshirt and sweatpants from his high school track team. They’re blue. He was a quarter miler.

He leaves the room to make me hot chocolate. I’m fine. I’m Maggie, no doubt about it. Andrew is really here and I love him. When he comes back in, I’ll tell him. I just have to be careful not to fall asleep and lose myself, because I know I won’t be coming back.

“Here, drink this,” he says. He sits next to me in the bed, on top of the covers. I don’t want the hot chocolate. But I feel bad because he made it.

“The dream came to town, huh?”

I nod. His comforter feels like a warm cloud around me.

“You have to let go of it. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t leave me.” Now I’m crying for sure.

“You’re the one leaving me,” he says. “And I can’t stand that. So just for my sake. Please.” His hand is so gentle and big as it holds mine.

I look in his eyes. I tell him the truth.

“It’s too late.”

M
y eyes open. I’m completely disoriented. My head whirls to my right to see the clock. But it’s not there. Who took it? I turn back, and it’s on the left. But I don’t keep my clock there. Suddenly, I realize why. I’m in Andrew’s bed, of course. Where is he? And more importantly, what happened last night?

Did we have sex? We were talking. He gave me hot chocolate. He was being really sweet to me. Maybe I just fell asleep. I look around. This isn’t his room, I don’t think. Was there a tree outside his window? Maybe.

But that’s not his tree. That’s Sloane’s tree.

“Andrew?” I call out. There’s no answer.

So I sit on the edge of the bed and try to collect my thoughts. That’s Sloane’s tree, so maybe I’m dreaming now. I’m dreaming I’m Sloane. Shit, she’s late for school. No, it’s Saturday. Thank God. I’m not sure I could go through some surreal day pretending that
all those kids are real and everything in their world is real and trying to pay attention in some classroom.

But Monday will come. That’s okay. I won’t have until Monday. I’ll be gone. Emma knows. She knows that only Maggie could invent something like this, only Maggie is brilliant enough and weird enough and lonely enough. Especially lonely.

So it’s okay. I still wonder why I’m here today. And then I realize. Maggie wants me to say goodbye to everyone in her dream. I can’t really do that, can I? It would freak everybody out. But they’re not real. But it would freak Maggie out and she’d wake up and then I’d never get to say goodbye.

Not saying goodbye wouldn’t be all right with me. Whoever I am, there’s enough of me to love everyone in my life and to feel sad about losing them. I’m not sad to be losing me. I’m sad to be losing them.

I feel very calm, not like how confused and panicked I was last night when I was Maggie. Thank God for Andrew. He’ll keep me safe once I stop dreaming. Everything will get better then.

In the mirror I notice how red and puffy my eyes are. But that can’t be from last night. Maggie’s eyes are ice blue. And asleep. My eyes are puffy because Sloane was crying last night. And they’re green, like hers. And she digs her fingernails into her palms when she’s upset and my hands are cut. Maggie never does that. We made my dad so scared. And I’m sure he told Mom after he put me to bed. So Sloane will have to deal with their worry. No problem. I’ll just lie. I’ll think of something. I’m fine.

I come downstairs, and Dad is making pancakes for Max. I’ve seen this a million times when Mom is at the church doing the altar
flowers for Sunday. And now it hits me like a train running through my chest at full speed. I’ll never see this again. I’ll never see them again. Tears fill my eyes. I can’t let them see that. I turn away and wipe them quickly. I hear Dad say, “Morning, honey, I’ll be right back.”

I’m alone with Max. He looks over and says something I don’t even hear. I remember the first time I saw him at the hospital. He was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. I love him so much. I just walk over and grab his ears and give him this kiss on his syrupy mouth while he’s still talking. He squirms from the cooties and asks what do I think I’m doing.

What I think I’m doing is kissing him goodbye, but what I say is, “Just messing around. Can I have a pancake?”

“No.”

I’m going to miss this kid. But then again, will Maggie really miss any of this? Any of them? Or will my missing disappear too?

“You can have two,” Max offers. He flops them on the empty plate at my seat. The same chair where I’ve eaten seventeen years’ worth of breakfasts. Suddenly, I wish I could take it with me. As if there was a me and a somewhere.

My dad appears with his too-bright smile. Here we go. He asks to “show me something” in the yard. I play along. As soon as we get outside, he asks me how I’m feeling and how I slept last night.

“So much better, Daddy. Thank you. I’m sorry I scared you yesterday. I scared me too. I don’t know what the heck was going on. But I feel fine now.”

“Your mom and I want you to talk to someone about this. Her name is Dr. Barrows, and she’s really nice, and she wants to see you Monday morning; is that okay?”

I listen with my serious and good-daughter face.