Parallel Visions (16 page)

“
Yes.
”

I hesitate again.
“
Do u want to tell them where he is?
”

Jenna wrinkles her nose.
“
I don ’
t know where he is.
”

I look at her, waiting for her to put it together. I don ’
t want to push her away again.

“
Oh.
You know?
”

I nod.

“
Because of your...visions?
”

I nod again.

“
Mason said you knew I was coming. That you ’
d seen exactly what I ’
d say to him.
”
Jenna twirls the end of her hair, the way she used to do when she was anxious.
“
Okay. Tell me. I ’
ll tell the police. It ’
s the least I can do.
”

“
U sure?
”
I write.

Jenna squares her shoulders.
“
Yes. It will be a very small way I can help put this right.
”

“
U don ’
t have anything 2 put right. But he ’
s at shack in woods. His family?
”

“
Yes. I know where that is. I ’
ll tell the police, ”
Jenna says soberly.

“
He has a gun. Tell them 2 b careful, ”
I write.

“
That sounds like Mason, ”
Jenna says. She looks down at the polished linoleum floor.
“
When I found you, I thought you were dead. Your chest wasn ’
t moving. You were limp. I—”
Jenna bursts into tears.

I reach for her hand and squeeze it, the IV tugging at my skin. Jenna keeps crying.

“
That was the worst moment of my life.
”
Jenna dries her cheek with her wrist.
“
I ’
m sorry I was so mean to you. I was scared of Mason, at least when he hurt me—he can be a mean son-of-a-bitch—but afterwards he ’
d always treat me like I was the most special person on earth. He ’
d tell me it would never happen again. I wanted to believe him so badly.
”

“
Must have been so hard, ”
I write.

“
Yeah, ”
Jenna says, tears filling her eyes again.

“
Was Gil there?
”
I write.
“
When u came? I thought I heard u yell 2 him.
”

Jenna half laughs, half cries.
“
Yes. He came pounding on the door, screaming your name. He said you called him.
”

“
Where is he?
”

“
In the waiting room, I think. He wanted to see you, but they only let family in when...when someone is as sick as you were.
”

I can
’
t believe I triggered my asthma on purpose yesterday. I wanted Jenna to escape—her and her baby. But my life isn ’
t something I should take a chance with. Gil ’
s right; there are other ways to help.

“
Still mad at me?
”
I write.

“
For what, for god ’
s sake?
”
Jenna asks, swatting my shoulder.

“
For pushing u about Mason.
”

“
I needed to be pushed. You were right. Look what he did to you!
”
Jenna rubs her arms.

“
And u, ”
I write.
“
And he could have hurt the baby.
”

Jenna looks at the pad for a long time, her finger pointing to the words.
“
Yes, ”
she says finally. She keeps her gaze on me and slowly lifts up her shirt. Her ribs and stomach are covered in deep purple, brown, and yellow bruises. I shudder and she yanks her shirt back down.

“
God! Jenna. U need 2 get a dr 2 check u, ”
I write.

“
I will. I promise. I feel like I can think again, without Mason around.
”
She rests her hand on her stomach.
“
I ’
ll take care of the little one.
”
She looks at me and licks her lips.
“
You really can see things, can ’
t you? The future, I mean? And the past?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Wow, ”
Jenna says.
“
And damn. That must be hard sometimes.
”
She shoulders her purse.
“
I ’
ll let Dad and Mom know you ’
re awake. And then I ’
ll tell the police where Mason is.
”
She leans over and kisses my cheek.
“
It could have been me Mason tried to kill. It almost was.
”
Jenna chokes up.

She has no idea how close she came to actually being killed.

“
Thank you for being such a great sister, ”
she says.

Jenna hurries out of the room before I can tell her that I think she ’
s a great sister, too.

I wake to the rumble of a trolley going by. Mom and Dad are both sitting beside my bed, their skin looking washed out in the fluorescent light. The tube is still in my throat, the ventilator breathing for me with a loud, whooshing sound. I struggle to sit up more.

Mom jumps up and comes to my side.
“
You ’
re going to be okay, honey, ”
she says tearfully, stroking my head.
“
You ’
re going to be just fine now.
”

Dad comes over on my other side, and squeezes my shoulder.
“
You sure gave us a scare.
”

I look for the pad of paper and pen. Mom pulls the table over, the pad and pen on top.
“
Mason tried to kill me, ”
I write.

Mom reads the pad, then hands it to Dad.
“
I know, honey, ”
she says in a choked voice.
“
But it ’
s all over now. The police are out looking for him. And he ’
s never going to hurt you again.
”

“
I ’
ll kill him first, ”
Dad says, gripping my hand so hard it hurts.

“
I hate how weak I was, ”
I write.
“
He didn ’
t have to do much. Light a few cigarettes, spray some aerosol...
”

“
You are not weak, ”
Mom says firmly.
“
You have asthma. We can ’
t change that. Yes, your triggers make you vulnerable. But you survived. You knew to try to get away. You knew to use your inhaler. You did all the right things.
”

“
And you ’
re the only one who saw Mason for who he really was, ”
Dad says.
“
You had the courage to speak up when no one else believed you. You could have kept it all to yourself but you didn ’
t. I ’
m proud of you, Katie. We both are.
”

“
I ‘
saw ’
what he did in my visions, ”
I write.

Dad reads the pad, then hands it to Mom.

Mom nods.
“
Jenna told us—everything you said was true. She just didn ’
t want to admit it. She said you even knew Mason was going to try to kill you.
”
Mom takes a deep breath.
“
I ’
m sorry we didn ’
t believe you. It ’
s a lot to wrap our heads around—that you really can see the future. It just sounds so crazy.
”

“
But you believe me now?
”
I write.

“
Yes, ”
Mom says. She hands the pad to Dad.
“
This whole thing with Jenna convinced me.
And ...
”
She breaks off, tears in her eyes.
“
I remember that girl with asthma that you said would die that day if they didn ’
t intervene. You were right. And Kathy, my co-worker, who you said was going to get hit by a drunk driver. I thought you just had a good intuition and an active imagination. But there have been too many times that you were right.
”

“
We can only say we ’
re sorry, and that we ’
ll believe you from here on out, ”
Dad says.
“
And anyone who doesn ’
t can go to hell. But...it ’
s probably not a good thing to mention to the doctors, Kate-girl. We don ’
t want them trying to figure out what ’
s wrong with you just because they don ’
t believe it.
”

“
I know, ”
I write.
“
I only tell people when I have to.
”

“
You ’
re a smart one, ”
Dad says, squeezing my hand.
“
You always were.
”

After all these years of wanting Mom and Dad to believe me, needing them to, it feels surreal that they suddenly do. Maybe it ’
s their reaction to the crisis—to me almost dying, to Jenna being beaten, to Mason on the run. I guess I ’
ll find out whether they still believe me next time I have a vision. Although maybe there ’
s something I can do to help that along.

“
Gil ’
s nana has psychic gifts, too. She ’
s a medium. Maybe you can talk to her sometime?
”
I write.

Dad reads it first, then passes it silently to Mom. Mom strokes my cheek.
“
Sure, honey. We ’
ll talk to her.
”

Dad clears his throat.
“
Why don ’
t we invite them all over for dinner when you ’
re doing better?
”

They
’
re trying. They really are.
“
Ok, ”
I write.

I shift restlessly. I hate this tube in my mouth. Hate a machine breathing for me. I want to go home. Want to feel normal again.

“
Jenna said Gil was here, ”
I write.
“
Did someone tell him I ’
m okay? Can he visit yet?
”

“
When your tube is out and you ’
re breathing on your own, ”
Mom says.
“
He can visit then.
”

“
R u ok with all the police?
”
I write.

“
Why wouldn ’
t we be?
”
Mom asks, then stops herself.
“
Oh, honey—are you talking about that time—?
”
Her voice breaks off.
“
That wasn ’
t your fault. And you were right after all.
”

But I remember the hours and hours the officers spent interrogating me, and each of my parents. The suspicion and anger that resonated off the officers, and the haunted look my parents wore for months. The articles in the newspaper about the girl from my school who was abducted—the abduction I predicted. The way the cops treated us as if we were the ones who ’
d snatched her—all because I ’
d seen pieces of it before it happened. The way even our neighbors shunned us, their eyes slitted and cold.

“
U really don ’
t blame me?
”
I write.

“
Honey, no! And if we ’
d understood sooner, and believed you, maybe it would have been different.
”

I look at Dad. He nods.
“
Everything your mother said, sweetheart.
”
He smoothes back my hair.
“
You look tired. Why don ’
t you rest?
”