Where I End and You Begin (24 page)

If I ever let it slip that my dad was in the army, people always ask if he fought in Iraq or Afghanistan, and I have to say yes, and they tell me to thank him for his service, and I want to tell them that he’s dead and so is our family and it was all bad, nothing good came of it, and if they don’t see why that’s the worst thing in the world then they are part of what killed him.

I’m a casualty,
I want to tell them, especially on holidays when they wave their stupid little flags.
I’m a casualty, too. Thank him? You know nothing at all.

Daniel is staring at me. I can tell he doesn’t know what to say. People never do. They judge him for it, too. They say they don’t, but they do.

Suicides go to hell, but no one ever mentions that at the funeral. They’re all thinking it, of course, but they don’t say it. They say shit like, “He’s in a better place now,” or “The Lord moves in mysterious ways,” or “There is more to this than we can know” which is exactly the sort of thing you say because you don’t want to tell a twelve year old that the man who gave her piggyback rides and helped her build a tree house in the old sweet gum in the backyard is now burning forever in a lake of fire.

But I’m nineteen now. I think I can handle it.

“That’s it,” I say. “That’s all there is to it.”

I see him swallow. The moonlight does startling things to him.

“No,” he says at last. “That’s not all. You told me those stories for a reason. You wanted me to hear them, but you couldn’t come out and tell me.”

I dip my head. I don’t want him looking at me. I don’t want him seeing more than I want him to see.

But it’s too late for that. “Those...those are the stories you
wanted
to be able to tell about him,” he says slowly. “Oh God... Bianca...”

“I waited,” I say, the words suddenly bubbling up and over and spilling out without my permission. “I thought, if he gave half a shit, he’d come back as a ghost. He’d play that old piano, or leave me a message on the mirror, or call for me somehow. He died a violent death. He left so much unfinished business behind. He left my mom, left
me.
If I’d ever meant anything at all to him, he should have come back. He should have come
back.”

I’m not going to cry. I am
not. I am strong. I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I swallow, hard. “But you know, no matter how late I stayed up and listened for the piano to start playing again, it never did. So. You know.”

Silence falls.

Daniel’s eyes are huge, haunted. “Know
what?”
he whispers.

I don’t want to say it. But I do.

“So I guess he left for a reason,” I tell him, and the world goes blurry, fading, blending. Boundaries are erased, and the world melts together, and then I am crying, crying so hard that my bones hurt, that my joints rattle in their sockets and threaten to fall apart.

“Bianca...”

“I’m fine,” I say between great gulping breaths for air, as the tears well up, as my whole body collapses into them. “I’m fine. I’m over it... I’m... I’m
fine...”

My sobs are so violent I hear the floor of the bell tower creak under me. Another snap. A groan.

“Bianca, please...”

From the corner of my eye I see his hand reaching for me, like the last moment of a movie, the final chance for the villain to redeem themselves. I’m no hero, but I’m not a villain, either. I can hardly see Daniel through my tears, but I know he’s there. I know if I reach out, he will catch me.

I surge upwards, pushing onto my knees, and my hand meets Daniel’s. His long, warm fingers close around my chilled skin. I don’t deserve it, but he’s there.

Maybe this is what they mean by grace,
I think.

A loud crack sounds in the cold, still air, and under my knees the floor buckles.

I stop breathing and look down.

“Don’t look,
don’t look, just come here—”
I hear the panic in Daniel’s voice. His hand is pulling me, and I slip and slide across the splintering wood, the cracking timbers. The bell tower groans and shudders, like a house hit by a wall of water.

“Bianca!”

I look up at Daniel. In the moonlight, his eyes are bright, his face pale and haunted. And I think,
I’m sorry I made you worry.
And then I think,
He heard me even when I couldn’t speak. I should just say it and save him the trouble.

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” I say.

And then the floor falls away beneath me.

T
here are many stories about near death experiences. You see a tunnel. You see a light. Your life flashes in front of your eyes.

A loved one comes back to guide you home.

If I ever have a near death experience, I hope my father will come to me. Maybe he will smile. Maybe he will hold out his arms and move to hug me close.

And when he does, I will run to him, I will rip him to pieces, I will fall into him and hold him, I will kill him all over again with my own two hands.

I
t all happens in slow motion, just the way they say. Dying happens in slow motion, and all our lives are spent running toward it.

It only takes one mistake to die. One mistake, and everything is over.

Maybe you put a foot wrong and tumble down a mountainside. Maybe you don’t stop to look as you cross the street. Maybe you forget to wear your hardhat on the oil rig.

Maybe you sign up for the army, thinking it will give you a better life, and the next thing you know your brains are on the wall, your body hits the floor, blood gushes from your nose, and all the screaming of your wife and child can’t reach you, because you’re dead.

These things happen. Our fates have been decided. There is nothing to be done.

But me? I don’t want to die.

For a moment I hang weightless in the air, my hand still in Daniel’s. Everything is perfectly crystal clear to me. The moonlight, the cold air. The stars above us, the darkness below. The bell in the rafters like a hanged man.

Then I am falling, dust and splinters raining down with me. Flashes of light and shadow. A moment carved out of the world.

My hand slips from Daniel’s, so fast I must have let him go, not wanting to drag him down with me, and then there is dust in my eyes and I am heading straight down through the bell tower.

There is a weightless quality to falling. My hands flail outward, dreaming of being wings, and when I find a rope in my fingers I grab it, purely by instinct.

It burns through my hand, and above me I hear the bright
clang, clang, clang
of the old bell.

I’m changing,
I think.

Then I hit the ceiling of the church entrance and white hot pain lances through my leg as the ceiling gives way beneath me, too.

But it slows my descent, and when I land on my broken leg on the church floor the boards crack, but they don’t break, so I don’t die, at least not right away. And I don’t black out either, but I wish I did.

I am deafened somehow. As though the pain has short-circuited my brain. All I can hear is the ringing of the bell.

If I could laugh, I would. If I die here, I know exactly how my ghost will haunt this place.

And you can hear her still, ringing that old bell as she falls...

Then I try to breathe and I realize I can’t, and the panic sets in.

An ugly sound breaks free of my throat as I struggle to draw air. My back explodes with pain and a thousand panicked thoughts race through my mind.
Broken back, ruptured lung, bleeding out, internal injuries...

Then Daniel is kneeling beside me. “Oh
Jesus,”
he says.
“Bianca.”

I try to draw breath again, and this time it comes and I realize I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me. “I’m okay,” I tell him, and I must not sound too terrible because he gives a frustrated little scream.

“Really?” he says. “You’re going to lie here and tell me you’re okay? If you’re okay now, when are you
not
okay?

“When I’m dead?” The pain is fogging my head, making it hard to think, but it seems like my brain has detached from my skull and is floating somewhere above, still able to make jokes.

“Not acceptable,” he says, and his hand alights on my head. “Don’t move for now.” Gently, he starts to stroke my hair as the electronic beep of his dialing cell phone squeaks against my ears. The bell above us is still ringing, or maybe that’s my head.

“I have a medical emergency,” he says, and I realize he’s dialed 9-1-1.

I try to concentrate on his voice, tell how he’s feeling, and now that I’m listening for it I hear the fear in him, trembling through his words on a high silver thread, and my heart is crushed.

I never wanted anyone to feel that way about me. Never. It’s too easy for me to slip away, to die. I know how easy it is to die.

I’ve seen the strings cut. I don’t ever want anyone to have a memory like that of me. It would be easier if no one cared.

But Daniel cares. I know he does, because he followed me, even after he found out I lied, even after he figured out what I was trying to tell him.

I’m sorry I’m not good at talking,
I think.

His mouth is going a mile a minute as he talks to the person on the other end of the line, though his hand on my hair is still sweet and soft, gentle. I want to turn my face into it, but I’m afraid to move, lest I bring more pain down on myself.

Which, now that I’m thinking about it, is a pretty good metaphor for my life.

I must be going into shock,
I think, and I am far off, detached. I want to close my eyes and sleep for years. I’ve never been so tired in all my life...

“Bianca!”

“Hm?” I say. My eyes snap open.

“Can you move? Your legs and stuff, I mean?”

I give my hands experimental twitches. “Arms are fine,” I say. I curl the toes of the leg that isn’t broken. “Legs are fine.”

“Can you stretch out? You might be more comfortable that way...”

“I don’t think I will,” I say. The pain of my broken leg is now a dull roar. I swallow against the nausea. “Hold my hand?”

His hand closes around one of mine. Warm.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s going to be okay.”

I want to laugh. I really do. “That’s my line,” I tell him. My words are slurred. I might have a brain injury. How will I keep my scholarships with a brain injury?

Daniel laughs for me, though it’s thin and nervous and half-sob. “Has anyone ever told you that you have abandonment issues? And trust issues? And all sorts of other issues?”

“Kinda guessed,” I say. His hand squeezes mine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with that right now. You need to stay awake, though. Can you do that?”

“Can’t do that when I’m not injured,” I tell him.

Christ. I
am
tired.

I realize I’ve closed my eyes again and I peel the lids up. I don’t feel so hot.

“Bianca. Bianca, talk to me.”

“What ‘bout?” It’s cold. I’m cold.

“Why don’t you tell me why you ran away from me?”

Oh. Fine. Ask me that while I’m down and out.

“Or...” he says after a second. “Or your classes. Do you know how you did on your midterms?”

I frown slightly, confused by this sudden change of topic.

“Your friends,” he says then. “How are your friends? When did you get heat back in the house? Bianca,
talk to me.”

Oh,
I think.
I see now.

“I’m sorry,” I say. When in doubt, apologize.

“Why? Why are you sorry? You don’t have to be...”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I’m sorry for running away. I really wanted to be with you. I thought that was selfish. Because you’re a priest. Wanting you to choose... that was selfish.”

His hand on mine tightens fiercely. “If that was selfish, then I’m the most selfish person alive. I said I wanted to help you and instead I gave in to my temptation when you were at your most vulnerable...”

I hadn’t really thought of it like that. “Hmm,” I say. “Yeah. Maybe you’re worse.”

“Thanks,” he says.

“No problem,” I tell him.

He starts to stroke my hair again. It feels good.

I’ve been stupid, I realize. I’ve been afraid to love him, trapped in my own endless cycle of pain and need, just like a ghost of regret. Always reaching toward the past, knowing only what has gone before and unable to break free. Loving someone, instead of just being loved by someone... that’s dangerous. And scary.

I always break it off. I always break away. I don’t want to be the one left behind, because there are no happy endings even when you find love, because one of you is going to die first.

I was afraid I wouldn’t be the first. I was afraid to even put myself in that position.

Well, to be fair, I’m
still
afraid. But Daniel was right when he told me that only the dead have no fear, and I’m not quite dead yet, so perhaps I should try to fix my broken parts, make myself someone who can love him as he deserves. And if it doesn’t work...

It doesn’t matter. Borrowing trouble.

What matters is Daniel. He’s here. And warm. And real. Right
now.

I’m sick of ghosts,
I think.
Being a ghost is no fun, especially when you’re still alive.

“Thanks for sticking with me,” I mumble. Far away, I hear sirens.

His hand on my head pauses. “Bianca?”

I’m tired. So fucking tired.

His hand is on my shoulder, shaking me.

“Bianca? Bianca, stay with me!
Bianca!”

I let my eyes slide closed.

H
ow do ghost stories end? When the ghost is put to rest, of course, or their mission is completed.

Sometimes, all a ghost has to do is realize that she
is
a ghost to move on.

P
eople like to be dramatic when they come visit you in the hospital. I mean, perhaps I looked a little less than chipper with the monitors all over me, but I didn’t look
that
bad. I made Daniel promise me that I didn’t look that bad.

Then again, I think Daniel would have said I looked good even if I’d somehow grown a few extra nipples in the middle of my forehead. He’d stayed with me through the night, in the room where they kept me for observation. He wouldn’t stop staring at me, as though he was afraid I’d sneak off and try to die under someone’s porch. It was kind of creepy, but also sweet. Sweepy.

I like morphine.

“Annie, I am annexing your half of the room,” Tanya says as she waltzes through the door. “You are too irresponsible to have your own half of the room. From now on, I am queen of all. And you look awful. How can you look so awful?”

“My leg is in a cast,” I say.

“That must be it,” she says.

Jibril and Alice are behind her. Jibril comes over and stands by the bed, looking down at me with intense amusement. “You told
me
you didn’t think the church was safe, and then you had to go do it yourself?”

“Yeah,” I say. “But I was right. It wasn’t safe.”

“I’d slap that grin off your mouth if you weren’t in a hospital bed,” he tells me.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Alice says.

“Fine. I wouldn’t. But I’d really really want to!”

“Yeah. Well. Anyway, that was pretty dumb,” Alice agrees. “How’d you get in the church?”

“Opened the door. Shocking, I know.”

She gives me a glare. “I’m going to draw penises all over your cast,” she says. “As punishment for scaring the shit out of us.”

“Oh no. Penises.”

“I know you like penises, but you won’t like the kind of penises
I’m
going to draw.”

My nurse, who is disconnecting me from the observatory machines, tries to stifle a snicker.

I just smile. I’m glad I have someone who wants to draw on my cast. My mother has already called me and bitched about the hospital bill, but the morphine was quite helpful in bridging that divide. I felt very loving and warm, to be honest.

I’ll probably have to work to pay that money back, but that is in the future. The future I actually have. That’s probably what matters now.

“All right,” my nurse says. “Here are your crutches. You’ve already signed your discharge papers, so good luck to you.” She turns to my friends. “Make sure she takes it easy. No more crawling around condemned buildings?”

“Not until her leg is healed,” Alice says.

The nurse just rolls her eyes. “You sure you don’t want to get the royal treatment and wheel out of here?”

“No thanks,” I say. “I have an entourage.”

Daniel helps me out of bed, then gathers my things and guides me out the door while my friends flit and fly around me.

“You want something to eat?” Tanya asks me.

“Anything you need from the store?” Jibril says.

“When can I draw penises on your cast?” Alice interjects.

I just smile and shake my head. There will be time enough for all that later.

When we reach Daniel’s car, he roots around in my bag and finds my car keys. My car is still parked at the church, and it needs to be retrieved. One of these three ruffians is going to drive it back to campus for me. I don’t know whose car they borrowed to do it, and I don’t ask which one will be driving my car. It’s better not to know.

“See you back at the house,” Tanya says, then pulls me into a fierce, though awkward, hug. “I really am taking over your side of the room,” she tells me. “Prepare to be boarded.”

“That’s naughty,” Alice tells her, and then they are gone, marching off to Nompton, and I am alone with Daniel.

I look at him and he looks back at me. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he smiles before opening the car door. Awkwardly I get in, and then I wonder if I can get any mileage out of a broken leg in terms of extensions.

Probably not,
I realize. The inconvenience of breaking a leg right after midterms.

I settle my crutches next to me and put my bag on my feet, and Daniel comes around and gets in on the other side. He starts the car, and away we go.

The drive back to campus is quiet, and I’m not sure what to say, or, really, what Daniel and I actually
are,
and I don’t quite know how to ask. When at last he pulls up to the house, he parks the car and turns it off, but doesn’t get out. He turns to me instead.

“Bianca,” he says.

I look at him. I don’t think I ever want him calling me Annie. I like that I have a name just for him. “Yes?”

“What am I going to do with you?”

I shrug, feeling somewhat sheepish. “Pray for me?” I guess.

He slaps a hand across his eyes and rubs his face. “Oh, please,” he says. “Don’t tease me about that.”

“About what?” I say.

“In case it isn’t obvious, I’m probably not in good standing with our Lord at the moment.”

“Join the club.”

“And in case you forgot, we made love.”

Made love.
Of course Daniel would say that. It’s so cheesy. I’m experiencing second hand embarrassment just hearing the words

“Yes...?” I say.

He clears his throat, and I realize he is nervous. “What I mean to say, is that I’m still on sabbatical. And I don’t know now if I’ll ever go back. I mean... dammit, stop staring at me!”

But he’s blushing. How can I not watch? “Sorry,” I tell him.

“I mean I want to keep seeing you,” he says in a rush. “There. I said it. Is there... is there any way you might want the same?”

I have to smile at that. “You didn’t listen to me in the church?”

“You were under a bit of duress at the time.”

I shake my head. “Yes,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot. And if I’ve done something to draw you away from your calling... not that I’m arrogant enough to believe you’d give up the priesthood for me, that’s just...”

Daniel reaches over and grabs my hand. “I was already on the way out,” he says. “A crisis of faith can go one way or another. Maybe you influenced me, maybe you didn’t. I don’t think I care.”

“But if I’ve totally derailed your life...” I begin.

“A different path,” he interrupts me. “I am looking at a crossroads. And I have to say, I don’t know what I’ll choose in the future. But I know what I want to choose now.”

He stops and takes a deep breath. “Bianca, I want to choose you. The first time I saw you, coming in late to class, it was the first time I’ve ever looked at a woman and thought,
She could be the one.
I thought that wasn’t possible. I’ve never felt anything like it before. But just one look, and you changed my life.”

“And then I threw up on the floor.”

“No, then you showed me how vulnerable you were, and I wanted to protect you. I wanted nothing more than to help you, in whatever way I could. When you yelled at me after you talked to the Dean, that hurt more than almost anything. I’ve been going through life on an even keel, just doing what was expected of me, no highs or lows, believing what I’ve been told...then poor Sicily died, and I started to wonder if what was expected was what was
right,
if what I was told was correct
.
And then you came along, completely
un
expected...”

He stops. His thumb begins to move over the back of my hand in sweet, delicious circles. “I didn’t know how to live with questions,” he says. “And then I met you, and you have nothing but questions, and you don’t even care if you get answers. Before there was you, I was in a fog, not knowing which way to go. And then there was you, and you burned it all away.

“You were my guiding light when I didn’t know what to do. I know that I have a choice. And right now, even if it’s the wrong choice, even if I go to Hell or have to start my life all over without knowing what to do with it, I still want to choose
you
.”

I can’t even look at him. He makes my chest hurt in the most wonderful of ways.

“I want to choose you, too,” I say. “I... I care about you. And I try not to care about anybody, but that just makes me love them even more, and I’m a mess and I’m sorry about that...”

“I knew you were a mess the day I first met you,” Daniel says.

I pin him with a glare. “What I mean is that... I don’t have a great track record when it comes to keeping relationships going. Not even with friends. I always think they’ll leave, one day out of the blue... just like
he
did.”

His fingers tighten on mine again and I take a deep breath. “But... I don’t want to be afraid of being thrown away any more. And I don’t want to throw people away just because I know this will all come to an end someday. Being alone, unable to speak to the people around you... Then you lose them before you have them. I don’t want to stop making memories just because they’ll make me sad when everything is gone. I don’t want to kill us off before we even start...”

I look at him. Our eyes meet, and his gaze is soft. He understands.

And that’s all anyone wants, isn’t it? To be understood?

“So I guess what I’m saying is yes?” I say after a second. “I mean, if you’re sure...”

“Bianca,” he says, “I don’t have any idea what I believe in anymore. What I
know...
is you.”

I stare at him. “Me what?” I say after a second.

He smiles. “That’s it. Just you.”

Then he kisses me, and I know him, too.